A minute later, Melanie, Claire, and I were seated in one of the cramped offices. A desk dominated the room, papers and dirt and unidentifiable debris swept to one side; a sleeping pallet peeked out from behind. Astor arranged the chairs so that none of us had our backs to the door and the large, blown-out window on the interior wall.
Claire sat and threw one leg over the other, leaning back, her arms crossed. “Tell me what you hoped to find here.”
“You, actually.” I forced the shaking from my voice. Dawn was still hours off, so James wasn’t likely to notice us missing for a while, but we’d need to get back to the castle without being spotted. Sleep wouldn’t hurt, either. What had been a simple look-and-leave mission had grown to more than I was prepared to handle at this hour. “We wanted to see if there was anyone here. If the information was good.”
“And that’s it?”
“Then,” Melanie said, “I was going to send in the military.” She smirked and leaned back, one elbow resting on the desk. “But we can be persuaded otherwise.”
Claire scowled and eyed the door. “I won’t let you bully me.”
For a moment I feared she’d close off, but Melanie knew Claire; she knew how to handle her, I hoped.
“Well, if you cooperate, I won’t send the military in for a visit.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
Melanie shifted her posture, signaling my turn.
“I’d rather talk than fight. Don’t you agree?” I leaned forward, making myself open and approachable, but not too much. If she’d spent much time with Patrick, she would know our tricks. “How’d you end up here? In the factory. Or with Patrick.”
Claire hesitated, but when she threw a glance toward the window to check on her people, there was real concern. She was hard, but not like Patrick.
“I want to help my kingdom,” I said. “And that means learning about its people. You. Tell me how you got here.”
Suspicion gleamed in her eyes, as though she was considering all the ways I could use the information to hurt her. But at last, she softened. “My parents worked in this factory when I was a child. When Colin took over, the factory was shut down and all the flashers arrested. I survived only because my neighbors claimed I was theirs, and I never saw my parents again.” Claire’s gaze leveled on me. “Does that surprise you? That this factory was still operating before the One-Night War?”
It did, but I wouldn’t say so.
“This place provided clean water to most of the lowcity. The highcity and castle have other sources, but the lowcity relied on this factory not just for clean water, but to keep the marshes at bay. Perhaps you’ve seen the way it’s eating at the houses there.”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t had a chance to tour the city because I’ve been busy trying to stop the riots.” I pulled back and twisted my little finger at her.
“Watch it, Queen. I’ve been fighting for Aecor freedom while you were hiding in the Indigo Kingdom these last years.”
As though I’d been lazing around Skyvale Palace this whole time, coddled and turned against my own kingdom. “I’m sorry about your parents. I lost mine, too, and I’ve been fighting. Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean that isn’t the truth.”
“So I’ve been told. But you turned on Patrick.” There was something about her tone, though. Something I couldn’t quite interpret.
“I disagreed with his methods. He became an assassin for the cause. I won’t. Nor will I allow assassins to rule in my kingdom.”
“That’s either very naive or hypocritical.” Claire glanced at Melanie. “I suppose you two haven’t had a chance to catch up, but I think maybe you should carve out some time. There’s a lot you don’t know about your friend, Queen.”
Melanie scowled.
“It doesn’t matter.” I forced my tone even, but the thought of Melanie killing someone made my stomach roil. Maybe it wasn’t true. “We have a problem that needs solving. That is, I’d rather not hurt any of you, and I don’t think you’ll risk hurting me, in spite of your threats.”
Claire didn’t respond.
I crossed my legs and angled toward her. “This is the truth, Claire. I came here because I want the riots to stop.”
“Not until the demands are met.”
“What, for the Indigo Kingdom people to leave?”
“That’s right.”
“With some exceptions, the Indigo Kingdom is supportive of my claim to the vermilion throne. I’ve signed the Wraith Alliance. King Tobiah is working to remove Prince Colin. I’m taking the kingdom peacefully.” A moment stretched as she studied me. Evaluated. “Claire, you want to protect your people?”
She pressed her mouth into a line.
“I want to protect my people. From hunger, sickness, dehydration, wraith—and riots. I want to protect you and the Red Militia, too, but right now, you stand with Patrick. He and I are not on the same side.”
“He wants you on the throne.”
“I don’t need him to put me there. I’m not a puppet. When the time is right, I will be crowned queen, but Patrick will have no place with me. Soon he’ll be tried for his crimes, both here and in the Indigo Kingdom.”
“And I can go with him, or with you?” Claire asked.
“More or less.” I stood, and Melanie followed. Then Claire, her hands twitching toward weapons. “The riots must stop. There can be no negotiation on that. Nor the fact that my allies from the Indigo Kingdom will be welcome here. I told you I signed the Wraith Alliance. Do you know what that means?”
She sneered. “People like my parents are never seen again.”
“Not anymore. People like your parents—and you and me—can volunteer to help fight our real enemy, the wraith. Using magic outside of that will still be illegal, but no more flashers will vanish from the streets. Not anymore.”
“Say I believed you,” Claire said. “Say I agreed and I’m tired of watching my people get hurt every night for a man who allowed himself to be captured.”
I’d been right. She’d lured us here hoping to negotiate.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you signed the Wraith Alliance. That still means no magic, and places like the lowcity will continue rotting because they don’t have this.” She gestured around.
The factory. The water.
I’d always thought my ancestors had ceased industrialized magic a hundred years ago. Never had I imagined they might have kept such a scale of magic alive.
But it had been to help people. Everyone deserved clean water.
What a choice.
“I’ll find a way,” I said. “A nonmagical way to restore this factory.” Skyvale Palace had been renovated after the Wraith Alliance. Why couldn’t a factory?
“That’s not a very firm promise.”
“You haven’t made any promises,” I said. “Can you stop the riots?”
Her eyes were steady on mine. “I’ll find a way.”
“Then we can both get what we want.” I smiled and offered my hand. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share the names and locations of other Red Militia cells.”
“Not a chance.” Claire shook my hand, and escorted us to the exit.
“That was well done,” Melanie said.
I hoped so. Part of me wanted to send a score of police to apprehend everyone there, but I’d lose Claire’s trust. If I let her be, she could help to pacify the Red Militia.
“Mel.” I stopped at the rampart and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Wil.” She mimicked my stance.
Bitter wind cut around the wall, making me shiver. Dawn edged on the horizon and we needed to get inside, but I had to tell her first. “I’m not going to ask what Claire was talking about back there. Not because I don’t care or want to know. I do. But you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
“Same as you’ll tell me when you’re ready to talk about Black Knife.”
“It won’t be long now, I think.” I’d made de
cisions as a queen tonight. Not only an Osprey. Not only Black Knife. But Queen Wilhelmina, who was also an Osprey and Black Knife.
Being queen didn’t prevent me from missing the way things used to be—simpler, though I hadn’t realized it then—but what I’d done tonight shifted something inside me. There was a way to be true to myself and rule Aecor. I was unprepared, but I could learn. I would, just as I’d learned to fight and steal and survive after being a princess.
“It might be a long time for me.” Melanie dragged her fingers through her short hair.
“It will take however long it takes.” I pulled her into a tight hug. “But whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”
THIRTY-THREE
WINTER DEEPENED.
Icy gusts pushed through the castle. Even in my father’s office—my office now—I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter. The fireplace was on the far side of the room from my desk.
Paige sat opposite me, sifting through lists and documents. “I’ve looked into clean water for the lowcity. There are several options, but developing the right system will take time.”
“It’s urgent. People there are dying.” True to her word, Claire had made progress on the riots. There’d been no change the first night, but the following nights were quieter and quieter until last night when the streets around the castle seemed to hold their breath, waiting for a mob that never came.
This morning, I’d lifted the curfew. There’d been cheers in the streets; people thought the problem was solved.
Paige dipped her pen and wrote on clean paper. “We can pump some of our water to the lowcity—ration what the highcity and castle are allowed. People won’t like it, but if everyone gives up a little, it will go a long way to helping those in need.”
“Let’s do it. Have one of your assistants figure out the details.”
Paige glanced up after writing the final line. “I don’t have assistants.”
“You do all of this yourself?”
“Is that wrong?”
“No, it’s just too much work for one person. Hire someone. Or two someones.”
“I’ll do that.” She handed me the document she’d just written. “Please sign.”
I took a steadying breath before committing my name to ink and paper, and then gave it back to her.
“Here’s your order for mirrors.” Paige flipped to another sheet. “The plans from the Indigo Kingdom arrived. They’ve sent as many supplies as they can spare, but it isn’t much.”
“It will be better than nothing if we can get the sandcliffs covered.” That might protect Aecor City for a while, but most of Aecor was flat marsh, without natural places to put mirrors in the stretches without cities.
Updates I received from the Indigo Kingdom were not encouraging. More border villages had flooded with wraith. More refugees had moved into Skyvale.
Later in the afternoon, a knock sounded on the door, and James entered. “Wil, there’s news. A letter from Tobiah.” He handed his entangled notebook to me. “And refugees are crossing the bridge.”
I held the notebook to my chest. “Refugees? Here?”
Paige’s face was ashen as she looked between us. “Wraith refugees?”
“Yes.” James’s voice was heavy. “What should we do with them? The city isn’t big enough to support the numbers arriving, and this is just the beginning.”
“And we were just discussing water rationing,” Paige added. “We don’t have the resources. Not water, not food. Let alone the space to house many additional people.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head back. “Allow them entry. I signed the Wraith Alliance. I cannot turn them away.”
“Correct,” James said.
“Give them shelter. Make them welcome. Hopefully some brought food and other necessities.”
“There are a lot of carts and wagons.” James stood closer to the fire. “Livestock, too.”
Finally, some good news. “Let them rest here—in empty factories, if we have nowhere else. Then send them farther into Aecor. Other cities will have to take them in, but create some kind of census that will allow friends and families to follow.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Triple the police presence while the refugees are moving through. The Red Militia or malcontents might take action against them. But keep the police in small patrols. Nothing threatening.”
“‘Indigo must go,’” James muttered. “And the riots just stopped.”
“Hopefully they won’t start again, but we need to be careful.”
He nodded. “I’ll send soldiers—red and blue—to the bridge as well. They’ll keep traffic moving and prevent bottlenecking.”
“Good. Keep a lane clear so people can return to the Indigo Kingdom as well. They may go back for more people or belongings. Let them move freely. Have ships and ferries ready to take passengers, as well.”
“It will be done.” James shifted his weight. “When I’m finished, I’d like to request permission to return to the Indigo Kingdom.”
My stomach dropped at the thought of losing James.
Of course he wanted to be with his cousin, his mother, and what was left of his family. I could never deny him that, but— “You’re here by Tobiah’s orders, not mine. Have you asked him?”
“No.” James turned his eyes toward the curtained window. “I know what he’ll say.”
How difficult it must be, here because he wanted to be away from Tobiah—and because Tobiah had sent him away. There were too many questions and arguments gathering between them. But no matter their differences, they were like brothers. They needed to work this out.
“I’m sorry, James. I’ll ask on your behalf.”
He nodded and went out of the room.
Paige turned to me. “We’re finished for now. Don’t forget you have a meeting with Prince Colin before dinner, and you’ll have guests from Northland arriving tonight. Jasper and Cora Calloway.”
A count and countess, if I remembered. They—and other nobles responsible for various cities and towns across Aecor—had been in their homes during the One-Night War. It was only the high nobility in Aecor City who’d been slaughtered.
“Thank you, Paige.”
She hesitated by the door. “Do you mind if I use the white notebook to write to Theresa?”
“It’s in my quarters. Make sure everyone has a turn to write to the others.” I took James’s notebook to a chair by the fire as the door clicked shut.
Wilhelmina,
I write with the worst kind of news: West Pass Watch has fallen. The western mountains are flooded with wraith mist. My uncle Herman is dead, along with over one thousand men who’d been stationed there.
And now the west is gone. Only a narrow stretch of valley and Midvale Ridge stand between Skyvale and the wraithland. Wraith beasts wander everywhere; guards on the city walls see them roaming the forest. That means we have plenty of wraith beasts for the barrier, but I’ve heard the Flags are filled with signs begging for Black Knife to return. They’re scared. Everyone is.
Mirrors again cover every west-facing wall in the city, and all along the border, but they didn’t save West Pass Watch. There’s just so much wraith.
The barrier is still under construction. It seems unlikely we’ll complete it in time.
Many families have already left Skyvale. The Chuters, Corcorans, and Davises. My mother and aunt have gone to Hawes. Others are packing, and I don’t blame them. I worry for the ones who can’t leave, like so many in the Flags. Lakeside—near Bracken Lake in the south—has already evacuated.
People are moving east. Advisers have suggested I should, too, but how can I leave Skyvale when there are still people here, and there’s still a chance we can save it?
Tobiah
I trailed my fingers down the pages. No wonder James wanted to return.
Heart heavy, I went to my desk to respond with my condolences, as well as updates on the refugees moving into Aecor and the status of the kingdom. I a
lso added James’s request to return to the Indigo Kingdom.
Tobiah must have had the notebook open, because his writing began appearing on the next page.
Wil,
Thank you. Like no one else, you know the devastation of watching your home fall apart.
Please tell James I understand his desire to return, but I need him there.
Do you have time to write now? James and I have been drawing a line beneath our notes when we’re finished so the other can begin.
Tobiah
My heart jumped into my throat as a black line spread across the page. We’d been writing every few days, but our letters were nothing that could be called a conversation. They’d been updates and advice, nothing more.
Now he wanted to talk.
And if I didn’t respond quickly, he’d decide I wasn’t here anymore and give up.
Letting him think I’d gone would be cowardly.
I’m here, I wrote.
For a moment, I sat with my pen hovering over the paper, wondering if I should say anything else. I drew a short, flourished line instead.
I’m glad.
Oh, this was awful. I should have shut the notebook and left it for James. How could anyone converse like this—when they couldn’t hear the other’s voice or tone, or see their face and mannerisms?
But I could imagine Tobiah in his office, or room maybe. In my mind, he was wearing his typical black clothes, with his hair mussed and hanging in his face. And he, too, watched the page with those dark eyes, waiting for me to respond.
I couldn’t say what I wanted, though.
What did you need to talk about? I used my handwriting—still in development, and likely to change—adding a few flourishes to the ascenders and descenders. Maybe the question wouldn’t sound rude.
A dot appeared on his line. Then another above it. As though he’d changed his mind about how to respond.
I think we should begin referring to magic users as radiants again, rather than flashers. The latter is rude, and if the barrier works, magic may be what saves us.
A smile escaped me. That’s thoughtful of you, I wrote. I’m inclined to agree. I’ll take being called a radiant over flasher any day.