I forced my voice neutral and chose my words carefully. “You did well tonight. I was pleased with your work, and the way you obeyed my instructions.”
A smile lit his face as we continued toward his wagon. The mirrors had been moved, too, though at the moment they were covered with sheets. He hesitated at a sliver of glass showing near the floor; I stepped in front of it.
“In you go.”
His smile returned as he went inside his wardrobe. “Do I need to hum again?”
“Only if you want. Just behave. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I cannot wait. Good night, my queen.” He remained grinning even when I closed the doors and pulled the sheets off the mirrors. The glass reflected his wardrobe from every angle, making it impossible for him to escape.
How secure was it really, though? He avoided mirrors. He acted like they hurt him. But he’d destroyed the mirrors as wraith mist. Perhaps he couldn’t anymore, now that he was a boy.
What about the rest of the wraith?
“Wil?” James touched my elbow.
I blinked and stepped back from the glass I’d been glaring into. My face was ashen with cold and exhaustion, and my eyes rimmed with red. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I was thinking about mirrors again.”
“It happens to all of us.”
The wagon guards were eyeing me, too. I drew myself up and straightened my cloak. “Don’t open the wardrobe doors for any reason. And don’t taunt him.”
Without another word, I swept out of the wagon, James at my heels.
“Do you think he can ever be useful?” James asked. “Can he learn to be more human?”
“Meredith thought so. And you saw what he did to her. There’s nothing human about him.” At James’s flinch, I softened the edge in my tone. “He’s just wraith and magic and destruction. A mistake I mean to correct. Tobiah said I can’t just bring things to life without consequences, and he was right.”
“Can you destroy them without consequences?” James shook his head as we approached my wagon. “Tobiah said that because he’s made mistakes, too. And he’s tried to correct them without thinking, and the results were even more undesirable than the original problem.”
I lifted an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “It’s not my story to tell. But I’ve said before that you two are a lot alike.”
How strange that anyone besides an Osprey might know me well enough to make a statement like that.
Oscar and Ronald stood guard at my wagon door, their red jackets buttoned tight against the cold. Black caps hid their dark hair.
“Look, it’s Wil,” said Oscar, smiling.
“That’s Queen Wil.” Ronald elbowed his brother, but didn’t smile. “There were about ten people here earlier. We told them to shove off for now.”
“Thank you.” Quickly, I gave them the same orders I had James, concerning a guard. “I need one of you to watch Patrick, too. I’m sure there are a lot of people loyal to him and I can’t risk his escape. He needs to be tried for his crimes.”
“I’ll go.” Ronald offered a quick bow before heading toward Patrick’s wagon.
“He feels bad about Quinn and Ezra still,” said Oscar, though I hadn’t asked. “He’s afraid you think it’s his fault.”
Their names stung. “It’s Patrick’s fault for sending them. Ronald did all he could.”
Oscar nodded. “I’ll tell him you said that.” He opened the wagon door to let James and me inside. The lamps were already lit, and Melanie stood on the other side, near a small bedroll where the wraith boy’s wardrobe used to be. She offered a quick greeting as James shut the door behind us.
“It’s so unsettling to see you trusting anyone,” James said.
“I’ve known them most of my life.” I’d known Patrick most of my life, too.
He took the desk chair and pulled out the blue notebook he used to communicate with Tobiah. “I need to report what happened tonight. It will give him time to prepare for the official news.”
Prince Colin’s riders would be at least two days behind James’s letter, more if snow impeded their travel.
“No doubt he’ll appreciate the warning.” I shed my cloak and hung it on a hook by the door. My hands drifted down the smooth fabric, cold and damp with bits of snow. “Tell him—”
James uncapped a jar of ink and waited.
I unhooked my sword and its sheath. My daggers. I placed all my weapons in a trunk and straightened. “Tell him I had no choice. That I haven’t forgotten what he said about authority and my status, but I had to do something.” Then, softer: “A declaration like that is hardly official. It doesn’t make it real.”
“It was real enough for Patrick,” Melanie said. “After everything, you gave him exactly what he wanted.”
“Doubtful he wanted to go to prison.”
“Wanted? Probably not. Was willing? Definitely.” She crossed the wagon and linked our arms together. “You know Patrick. Everything is part of some elaborate plan. I don’t know how being arrested figures into it, but I’m not ready to say he’s no longer a problem.”