When the maid left, I changed into my Black Knife clothes and went out the window, over the roof, and onto Tobiah’s balcony.
The lock was easy enough to pick again, and I slipped inside the dark room without resistance, pausing only a moment to let my eyes adjust. The shapes and shadows were the same as the last time I’d been here, except now there was a framed drawing of Black Knife on one wall. How scandalous.
I slipped my letter in the corner of the frame just as the dressing room door opened. A banner of light shone over the far wall as I ducked into the shadow of a bookcase. The gas lamps flickered on, dazzling me.
“Well,” said Tobiah, “you’re later than I expected.”
I leaned on the wall and let my head drop back. “Someone couldn’t just get crowned king and be done with it. I had to stay for almost the whole party after.”
He laughed as he stepped around the bookcase, clad in a loose shirt and trousers. Black, predictably.
“Dressed for bed already?” I lifted my hand to my sword hilt. “I thought you might want to get some air.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I was crowned king today and held a party that went on too long. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“Being king has changed you. You never want to have fun anymore.” With a fake pout, I slipped around him and unhooked my baldric. “But I suppose I can see why you might need to rest after dealing with all those people.”
“Speaking of all those people, what did my uncle say?”
I stopped short of laying the baldric and sheathed sword on his desk. “Nothing interesting.” My things dropped to the desk with a heavy thunk.
“Unfortunately, my uncle is rarely uninteresting.”
I shrugged and made sure my mask was on straight. “He made a request, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve already decided what to do about it.”
“And?”
“I’m going to do the worst thing one can to a man like him: ignore him. Show him that he’s nothing.” Even if I thought he’d actually release Aecor to me, betrayal was yet another method I wouldn’t use to take it back. I needed to do it honestly. “What about you? I heard a tense discussion with James. Are you all right?”
“Eavesdropping is rude.”
“And yet it’s a way of life for some of us.”
He gave an exasperated smile. “James wants to know how he healed. I’m looking into it, but mostly I’m grateful he’s still with us. Losing him would break me.”
“I feel the same about Melanie.” I shifted my weight toward him and put on my best mock-serious tone. “Did you know snake-lizard venom eats the edges of swords?”
“Wil!” He threw his hands in the air. “Consider that my final gift to you. You haven’t even had it a week and you’ve already ruined it.”
“You must have a low opinion of me, Your Majesty. I took very good care of the gown.”
“The gown?”
“Silver, with ospreys clutching swords embroidered across the bodice. They looked just like these boots, so I know you’re responsible for it.” I propped my foot up on the edge of the desk chair. Black ospreys soared around my calf, just below my knee. “Tell me, Your Highness, do you embroider?”
“Ah, that gown.” His smile faltered and memory fogged across his eyes. “The one you wore to my father’s . . .”
My breath hitched. His father’s birthday ball, when he’d argued with King Terrell about marrying Meredith, and later we’d kissed in the breezeway, maybe at the same moment Patrick was sneaking into the king’s sleeping chambers.
Tobiah slumped toward the edge of his bed and sat. His fingers clutched vaguely at his heart, as though he could rip out the pain. But it wouldn’t go away. Not ever.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to bring that up.” I was thoughtless.
He lifted his eyes to me. “No, it’s part of my life now.” Understandably, he’d think of his father now, when only hours ago he’d taken his father’s place. “I didn’t accept your help after the Inundation. It was foolish. I’d like to accept your help now, if you’re still offering,” he said.
“Of course.” Haltingly, I crossed the room and stood before him. “Of course I’m still offering.”
He reached for me, arms lifted up like hope, and suddenly we were holding each other so tight. His fingertips dug into my shoulder blades. I hated myself for ever thinking he was spoiled, having ten extra years with his father. It hurt fiercely, no matter when it happened, and there was no pain compared to that of seeing one’s father die, or finding his body.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into his hair. Neither of us could have prevented our parents’ murders, but the pain and what-if were undeniable.
I’d been a child when it happened. Innocent. Terrified. Forever changed because of what I’d seen.
He was older. Less innocent, but still terrified, because he was expected to be a king now.
Get married. Win a war. Stop the wraith from destroying everything.