The rail was solid against my hips as I leaned on it, next to Black Knife. “What happened this afternoon—it’s all I can think about.”
“Me too. And it’s the last thing I want to discuss right now. I want to go back to how it was before, even if it’s just for a few hours.”
His arm was only a hair’s breadth from mine. If I shifted my weight just so, we’d be touching. “I want that, too.”
“I don’t want to talk about the war, or what happened last night, or Meredith, either.” His shoulders hunched as he leaned forward onto the rail. “I know you’ve been spending time with her. That’s probably good.”
“Probably.” I started toward the exterior wall where I could easily rappel down the side of the palace.
“I lied.” Black Knife faced me, his mask hiding his expression. “I want to say one thing. Meredith is a wonderful and kind person. She’s beautiful, smart, generous, and everything a king should want in a queen. But I’ve always felt”—he touched his mask, as though to reassure himself it was there—“a little like a monster. There are parts of me that I hate, and I face them every day. I’m not good enough for her.”
Oh, how I knew that feeling. Easily, I recalled standing in the breezeway, Black Knife saying we were the same, but I hadn’t been able to believe it. He was just so good, while I’d spent most of my life as a criminal. “What about me?” The question was out before I could stop it.
His regard was thoughtful, searching, and a triplet of heavy moments passed between us before his posture shifted. Shoulders down, chest angled away from me: he’d discarded whatever he’d been about to say. “Sorry, nameless girl. I don’t think you’re good enough for her, either.”
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes, and a few minutes later we were on the ground and racing through the King’s Seat and Hawksbill.
Black Knife and I avoided guard patrols and climbed the Hawksbill wall, both of us scanning the city for a direction.
“Flags?” he asked, crouching low. “Or Greenstone?”
I dropped next to him, scowling at the dark city. After years of getting used to the mirrors, it would never look right without them. “Some of the shelter areas need help. The Nightmare gang was harassing one in White Flag last night. I stopped them, but they’ll be back.”
“Then let’s start there.”
“She isn’t perfect, you know,” I said before he could stand. “No one is perfect, and imagining that she’s an exception is just setting her up to disappoint you.”
“Are you cataloging her faults?”
“No. She is all those things you said: kind and generous and smart. But for all those wonderful qualities, she isn’t perfect. She loves King Tobiah. She doesn’t love Black Knife. She couldn’t accept this part of you.”
“I’m not supposed to be Black Knife anyway.”
“But Black Knife is who you are.” I shook my head. “She might be everything a queen should be . . . for a different king. The way you see her isn’t fair to either of you. She’ll never live up to the image you’ve painted, and you can’t live your life thinking you’re not good enough.”
His breath puffed out his mask.
“You’re not a monster. You never were.”
He stood and offered his hand to help me up. “Let’s go. We have work to do.”
I didn’t take his hand, but I did follow him deeper into the city.
I felt whole. Alive.
Over the next several nights, we hunted glowmen, wraith beasts, thugs, and those who used this strange, transitional time to exploit others. We followed the requests for aid painted onto walls and fences, and located missing friends or family.
It was helping. New shelters sprang up in the Flags and Greenstone, most with reputations of being friendlier toward families than the original ones.
Communities formed, with people cleaning the neighborhood, others guarding, and even more gathering food and caring for their groups.
Even the police seemed more inclined to help the homeless, rather than hunt them. They protected people. The first time we saw it, I looked at Black Knife in shock, and he just smiled beneath his mask.
“I do pay attention to what you say.” He bumped his shoulder against mine and nodded toward a glimmer in the west. “Look there.”
The glimmer resolved into a glass pane hanging on one of the western guard towers. A mirror. A bubble of laughter gathered in my throat and escaped. “You know what they’re going to call you now, right?”
“What?”
I shook my head and jumped to another roof. It was time to find our next request for help. “You’re a smart boy. You’ll figure it out.”
He leapt after me, silent and graceful with every movement. “Just tell me.”
“Come on, Black Knife. Your people need us.”
Today was a historic day.