by Jodi Meadows
We stared into the gloaming, silent for a moment.
“Factories and warehouses make a line between the poor and the slightly less poor. Most people work there. Or used to, at least.” I motioned westward. “The neighborhoods grow gentler as you go uphill, until Castle Street. Everything there is very fine, but very expensive.”
“Not too expensive for the queen, surely.”
I snorted. James knew better than that. “Everything west of Castle Street is rich merchants and nobility. High nobles’ mansions stand on the cliff.” They were once-majestic buildings with glass windows and turrets and intricate ornamentation along the eaves. Now, they looked dark and dirty, neglected without their families. “Obviously, it’s been a while since I’ve seen the city. Things have changed.”
“I’ll make sure you have time for a tour.”
“Thanks.” The wagons reached the city gates as light faded. Crowds were filling the streets, pushing in the wagons’ wake. Some hefted torches into the air. Others had clubs or pipes—blunt weapons. “Look there.” I pointed at the street.
Melanie leaned over the guardrail. “They’re wearing red. The Militia. It’s happening again, just like Patrick said.”
“They’re all beasts,” said one of Prince Colin’s guards.
Screams from below drowned anything else the guards might have said. Suddenly I couldn’t see individuals, just masses of movement and shadows and pockets of red. People shoved and raised weapons.
A low cry rose up from the streets: “No more Indigo!”
“We have to stop this.” I started for the stairs down, but James blocked my way.
“I don’t want you anywhere near that mayhem.” He took my elbow. “You were lucky yesterday. Lucky, that’s all.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” The sun had fallen, but the streets were bright with torches and lamps, and a fire in one of the shops. A column of smoke spiraled into the air.
It was hard to believe the uproar had escalated so quickly.
“Indigo must go! No more Indigo!” The cries were faint, barely perceptible.
My heart thrummed. Patrick had told them to let Indigo Kingdom soldiers out, but protest the ones who were still here. And now, as the former prisoners rolled down the cliff path toward the bridge, protesting was exactly what the Red Militia was doing.
No, not protesting. Rioting.
It was hard to see from this angle but there seemed to be people throwing themselves against the gate of the castle’s inner wall. Or pushing others. Right now it was just a mass of bodies shoving and straining, but soon they’d move in time with one another. They’d get a battering ram.
“No more Indigo! Indigo must go!”
James shook my elbow. “This is my job,” he said. “I’ll stop this. Trust me to do my job.”
“Fine. Go.”
THIRTY
JAMES DISAPPEARED INTO the stairwell with a handful of guards, shouting orders as he went.
I turned my attention back to the riot, praying the violence would calm.
It grew worse. People banged on the wall with their clubs and pipes, chanting the same phrases. With the rush and roar of the fires, their words grew hard to hear, but I knew what they wanted.
We all knew.
Surrounded by his blue-clad guards, Prince Colin stood straight, his arms over his chest. A deep frown creased his face. “This is your fault.” He didn’t look at me, but there was no question where his comment was aimed. “They’re doing this because you’re here.”
“They’re doing this because you’re here with me.”
He moved away, along the edge of the overlook.
“What kind of queen hides in her castle while her people are in trouble?” I whispered to Melanie. James would be down the stairs by now. He’d tell his men where to go and what to do, and I’d watch all of it unfold from up here.
She pulled her cloak tight over her shoulders. “The kind who stays alive to help them on the other side of trouble. You can’t personally handle every situation.”
I could try. “I managed last night and the night before.”
“You had the wraith boy. Do you really want to involve him again?”
The memory of the wedding welled up like beading blood from a cut. The king and duchess, on the verge of kissing. The wraith boy, striding down the aisle with terrifying intent in his eyes.
He was still a monster. And unless I wanted to bring the castle to life—and risk killing myself with the effort—I couldn’t stop the fighting.
This was what Tobiah had meant the night I yelled about the Skyvale police: letting other people do their job didn’t mean I did nothing. “Tell me about the Red Militia. Everything you know.” Understanding the enemy was the first step to stopping it.
“It’s complicated,” she said after a minute. The wind and shrieks and thuds almost swallowed her voice, but she leaned close enough for me to hear. “The Red Militia is both an army and resistance. In addition to gathering a force large enough to move through Aecor, Patrick sent spies here to wait for his arrival.”
“Patrick wanted people on the inside to fight, too.”
She nodded. “Otherwise the Indigo regiment could keep the city for weeks, and Patrick’s army wouldn’t be able to keep up a siege for that long.”
“Everything happened so quickly.” Patrick’s plan—and mine, until a few months ago—had been to go to Aecor in the autumn and quietly raise our army until the spring, when we’d march on Aecor City and wrest it back. We’d wanted to make a statement by moving on the anniversary of the One-Night War. Instead Patrick had taken the city months early. “It’s an amazing feat.”
“You know Patrick,” she murmured. “He always manages somehow.”
I did.
“The majority of the Militia dispersed into the city once we took it. He kept enough people to move across Snowhaven Bridge, but most received orders to go into hiding until the goal was achieved.”
“And that is?” Dread coiled like a snake inside me.
“You and Patrick running the kingdom together.”
That plan hadn’t changed, then. “So these”—I motioned below—“are the people he sent here early, or sent out when the city was his.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know any of them? From the march south?”
“Some. Patrick worked hard to keep everyone as separate as possible. I knew the people he kept close and the small group I led. No one else. It was an army of hundreds of tiny divisions, none permitted to interact with others.”
That sounded like Patrick. He didn’t care about unity—not at that scale, and not with plans as big and elaborate as his, with so many variables and contingencies. He’d always been paranoid; even with the Ospreys, he’d concealed the identities of his contacts in Aecor. He’d done his best to keep us isolated in the old palace.
“We’re searching for the people we know. We are. But most are in hiding, and this is an old city with a lot of forgotten places. Our limited numbers won’t make the search any easier.”
“We must find them.”
“We will. But it won’t happen overnight.” She pointed down. “Look.”
Fires still blazed, but the crowd had thinned. There were fewer red jackets than moments before. Had James even had time to begin stopping the riot? My angle to see into the courtyard wasn’t great, but it looked as though James’s people were just now moving for the rampart.
Melanie shook her head. “He told them to incite a riot, then back off.”
The fact that he was in the dungeon didn’t make a difference. He’d have left orders that no one would disobey.
“He didn’t tell me,” she said. “He didn’t trust me.”
“He knew when I returned, you’d side with me.”
We watched as James’s teams sorted through the innocent people below, searching for the Red Militia that was long gone.
“I’ll find the Red Militia for you,” Melanie said as the crescent moon lifted
into the sky. “You have my word.”
The next day, I pushed through more of Paige’s unending lists.
“When do queens sleep?” I yawned, but according to Melanie, James, and Paige, all sitting lounging about my parlor, the day was far from over. Danie scurried about the bedroom, laying out a nightgown and lighting candles.
“Never, as far as I can tell.” Melanie leaned back and propped her heels on my desk. “If it makes you feel better, the rest of us don’t get to sleep much, either.”
“Boots off the desk,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I saw Danie scrubbing and polishing it this afternoon. I’ve never seen someone so serious about polish.”
Melanie heaved a sigh and sat normally. Perfect timing, because a moment later, Danie emerged from my bedroom and whisper-asked if I needed anything else.
“That’s all. Good night, Danie.” I put on the same warm smile I’d have worn as Lady Julianna.
The maid curtsied and hurried from my chambers.
“That is certainly not fleeing.” Melanie grinned at James, then me. “We have a bet going.”
“That she runs to escape my room?” I had a flash of memory of my Skyvale Palace maid, who never stayed longer than absolutely necessary.
“Yes.” James shrugged from his spot near the fireplace. “If you can get her to flee soon, I have plans for my winnings.”
“James thinks it’s inevitable,” Melanie said. “I think Danie has incentive to stay right where she is. It means she works in the same building as Sergeant Wallace.”
“They’re together?” I hadn’t seen them with each other, but I’d been here only a couple of days.
“Oh no.” Melanie waved a hand. “She’s far too shy to speak to him. But I think she’ll stick around so she can continue admiring him from afar.”
“Meanwhile,” James said, “I’m convinced of your ability to frighten even the most determined of maids.”
I scowled. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”
“Choose both.” He winked.
“Oh for the love of every saint. Make an effort to be nice to the staff,” Paige said, writing another item on one of her thousand lists. “I’ll continue introducing you to everyone, but they need more than that. They need to love you, too, like they couldn’t love Patrick.”
That thought sobered me. How could I make a kingdom of angry, frightened people love me? “I’ll do my best.”
“No more betting, either.” Paige shot glares at Melanie and James before she slid a paper toward me. “Now, about uniforms for the Queen’s Guard.”
Yes, after three long hours of interviews, I had a Queen’s Guard. “Uniforms? Why is this my job?”
“Because you have to look at them every day.” Paige smirked and tapped the page. “The treasury is one thing Prince Colin was careful to keep healthy. We can spare money for uniforms, especially since you refuse to hire more than just nine people.”
“It’s a lucky number.” And it was the minimum number of guards James would permit.
“Uniforms will promote a sense of unity. We’ll have a badge or pin commissioned, too. Rosanne Wallace would be a good choice for a seamstress—”
Outside, the screaming started.
“Indigo must go!”
I lurched up and stumbled toward the balcony.
“Wil, wait!” But James wasn’t fast enough.
I threw open the balcony doors and stepped outside.
Icy wind blasted from the west as I approached the rail. Dread knotted in my gut as the same violence of last night came again. The screams, the cries, the flames licking the starry sky.
“Wil, get back inside.” James pressed a hand on my shoulder. “Give me time to assess whether the balcony is safe. Remember what happened to Tobiah.”
As if I could forget.
Already, I saw castle troops moving into the city, but the truth of these riots burrowed into me. “They’re going to do this every night,” I said, letting James draw me away from the edge. “They’ll rush in and riot, then leave before you can catch them.”
At the door, Melanie nodded. “Every night, until everyone from the Indigo Kingdom is gone and you are crowned queen, with Patrick as your king. I think that’s why he took the city so early. You turned on him, and he needed to secure your dependence to him.”
“By destroying the city from the inside out?” My whole body shook as I stepped inside and James locked the balcony door. “Only Patrick would think that was a reasonable option.”
James dragged the curtain over the door. “We can’t take much more of this, especially not over the winter. If they burn supplies . . .”
Then everyone would starve. Not to mention the morale. “What do you propose?”
He leaned on the table. “You won’t like it, but I think a citywide curfew is the place to start.”
“Enacting a curfew doesn’t send a good message,” Melanie said. “Especially so early in her queenship. It says she can’t protect people from the Red Militia.”
“It says she’s willing to take measures to protect them.” James met my eyes. “They need to have confidence you’ll do what’s necessary.”
Was a curfew necessary? Taverns and inns, which made their business off late-night customers, wouldn’t be pleased. No one would.
But if there were no civilians on the streets, it might be easier to catch the Red Militia, and that was surely something we all wanted.
“Willingness to obey a curfew will only last so long,” I said after a moment. “They’ll need regular proof of our progress, as well as assurance that civilians won’t be hurt or arrested for being out, just escorted to their homes.”
James was nodding. Melanie was frowning.
“Only police will engage civilians. No military. We’re not under martial law.” Not that police were incapable of being cruel. I’d seen that much in Skyvale. “Anyone caught using violence will be brought to me.”
“Fair conditions,” James said.
The Red Militia here. The wraith in the west. Everything seemed eager to destroy my kingdom.
“If you’re going to do this,” Melanie said, “then you’ll want to make a statement about the decision and how you hope it won’t take long. Which means writing a speech. Tonight.”
So much for sleeping. “Tomorrow I want to see the city.”
“We’ll see.” James turned a chair out for me. “There’s not much time for it, and the Queen’s Guard is still untrained as a unit. Ensuring your safety on a visit to the city will take time and preparation.”
Which meant I’d see only the elite parts of Aecor City, where everyone was cleaned up and wearing their best behavior. I wouldn’t see the city as it truly was.
“Fine,” I said. “Prepare a tour for me as soon as you can.” It was certain to be a sterile, useless tour, but it might keep James from thinking too hard about the black bag under my bed.
But by the time everyone left my room, I had only four hours to sleep before I had to start another day as queen in name only.
Several more days proceeded in the same manner. I was overprotected and under-slept, and the castle walls seemed to grow closer every hour. But finally, I had a relatively early night, and a letter from Tobiah waiting in the blue notebook.
Wilhelmina,
Sorry it’s taken a few days to reply.
Here’s the truth: I’m not ready, either.
Power and responsibility don’t wait for us to feel ready; they are thrust upon us, always too soon.
Last week, I sent a contingent of soldiers to scout the wraithland border and bring back as many live beasts as possible for our barrier. The soldiers were on horseback, so it should have been a fast journey, especially now that the border is edging up into the mountains. It’s close, Wilhelmina. It’s so close.
Now I hear the soldiers are missing. Five hundred men. I made myself read their names again this morning, because I was the one who ordered a team to the wraithland. If they are
dead, then the weight of their lives is on me.
My father often talked about this kind of responsibility, but I never understood it until now.
You’re not ready. I’m not ready. How can anyone be ready to take responsibility for an entire kingdom’s safety?
More than anything, I want to escape into the city and be Black Knife for a few hours. But I can’t. Not anymore.
Tobiah
I closed the notebook without replying. There was nothing reassuring there. If he’d spent his life preparing for rulership and he wasn’t ready, how could I be?
Well, visiting my city was a start. And not James’s as-yet-unscheduled sanitized visit.
I hauled the Black Knife bag from its hiding place.
It was time to see my people.
THIRTY-ONE
IN SPITE OF the cold wind, it was embarrassingly easy to climb off my balcony.
The courtyard was quiet. Smooth, white flagstones glowed in the faint torchlight, but I kept to deep pockets of darkness as I crept toward the high rampart, which separated the main keep from the rest of the city.
I let my hands breeze over my tools and weapons. Sword, daggers, crossbow, grapple and line, and a dozen other small things I’d yet to find a need for—but Black Knife was always prepared. To an empty pouch I’d added Connor’s small silver mirror, a reminder of my friends still far away.
Footfalls sounded, and I held my position in the shadows of a silent blacksmith shop.
A pair of guards marched their patrol route, holding a torch aloft. One wore red, and the other blue. That had been my idea, keeping Prince Colin’s men and mine working together. Most merely tolerated the arrangement, but these two held a low, friendly conversation.
When they were gone, I hurried to the wall and tossed my hook over the ledge. The parapet made the throw tricky, but my aim was true. Climbing was easier; my boots gripped the stone securely.
At the top, I hopped the parapet and knelt to coil my line.
The city’s gas lamps had been turned off for the night, leaving only the occasional torch on a wall or candle in a window for light. The streets were black rivers of silence. Faintly, I could hear water crashing on the cliffs, and birds roosting on the ledges. The keen of wind smothered everything else.