by Jodi Meadows
Paige hurried up to me, panic in her eyes. “Where will we put them? All the best rooms are already taken.”
I resisted the urge to groan. “See if anyone is willing to cede their rooms to those with higher rank. Others will have to double up or go to inns, with apologies, but there’s no other way.”
She nodded and scanned the newcomers, already sorting them in her mind. “The rooms you had as a child haven’t been taken. Would it cause offense if I offered them to the queen mother?”
“Probably, but they are rooms reserved for royalty. It may be helpful to remind her of that.”
“I will. And shall I remove Prince Colin from his room for King Tobiah? I know that will cause problems, but Prince Colin may tolerate it for his nephew.”
Problems indeed. I scanned for Prince Colin in the chaos. He was standing with his arms crossed and glaring around the throne room. Our eyes met, maybe for only a second, but it was more than enough time to communicate deep, boiling rage.
I turned back to Paige. “Put Tobiah in the king’s chambers.”
“Very good.” She hurried off to set the room assignments in motion, and I moved to call a council meeting in one hour.
Quickly, my crown was taken back to its vault, not to be seen until the next event worthy of its attendance, and Melanie and Theresa joined me in the queen’s chambers. I sent Theresa to the washroom to clean up; it’d be faster than waiting for her own rooms to become available.
Thumps and voices in the adjoining room indicated maids’ presence—cleaning and dusting and preparing for King Tobiah’s arrival.
“Tell me about Danie,” I said.
Melanie stilled. “Danie and a handful of other castle staff are missing. A valet and two other maids. They’ve fled. Patrick is still where we left him, at least.”
That was a relief.
“Whatever their plans are,” she said, beginning to unclip the cape from the rest of my gown, “they don’t want to interfere with your coronation.”
“Patrick wouldn’t.”
A deep voice came from the next room, as familiar as the sound of my own breath. He thanked the maids and the door shut. Then, Tobiah and James began a low conversation, the captain no doubt apprising his king of everything that had happened.
Melanie drew my gaze from the doors between the king’s and queen’s chambers, both locked for propriety’s sake. “That night at Snowhaven Bridge, James wasn’t joking when he said you liked Tobiah.” She gave me a long, appraising look.
“Was it obvious?”
She smirked and swept the cape away in a ripple of velvet and silk. “You two nearly started a fire in there. I thought the whole castle would combust when he took your hand.”
“Scandalous lies.”
“You put on that uniform every week and prowl the city like a vigilante queen. You said you missed that menace, and you had this look I’ve never seen on you before. And then when King Tobiah came in this afternoon . . .”
“Well, aren’t you the head of secret intelligence?” I closed my eyes and exhaled, long and slow.
“Saints,” she whispered. “I never imagined those two might be the same. Tobiah was Black Knife all along?”
“Until I took over.” Cool air slithered against my skin as we began unbuttoning the heavy gown. “I never imagined either, though. I’d barely wondered who he was. Part of me didn’t want to know.”
“And now he’s living in the next room.” Melanie loosened the corset. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. Chrysalis killed Meredith. At the wedding. Just as the ceremony was almost finished. When he turned to me and said Tobiah was mine now, I knew he never would be.”
He never had been mine.
“That’s—” Melanie shook her head. “Awful. But now it makes sense. The rumors about what Chrysalis said. The way you choked on Tobiah’s name, though I could tell you loved Black Knife.”
“I didn’t know how to talk about it. Or if I should. It would have meant admitting so many uncomfortable things about my time in Skyvale.”
“You can tell me anything. Even if it’s that two of the people we used to hate the most are actually the same person and you’re in love with him.” She tilted her head. “Or just one of them.”
“It doesn’t matter, thanks to the aforementioned murder.” I stepped out of the gown, only a petticoat covering my skin. “And right now we have more important issues to discuss. The council meeting begins soon.”
The council chamber was full.
From my father’s seat, I twisted to face Tobiah while he told everyone about the events in Skyvale.
“Once West Pass Watch fell, we realized the barrier wouldn’t work—not for the whole kingdom. So we packed the pieces into crates and shipped them east.”
“You shipped me east, too.” Francesca feigned annoyance. “Many of the ladies and I went to Hawes at the same time, the barrier among our belongings. Tobiah was concerned that if people realized what was being transported, the pieces would be taken and improperly assembled. Wasted before we knew whether they worked.”
“You guarded them well, Mother.” He took her hand and smiled. “I tried to make those four”—he gestured at the Skyvale Ospreys—“leave for Hawes, too, but they insisted they could be useful. And they were. They were instrumental in getting people to evacuation routes, killing wraith beasts, and finding supplies for the journey. Without the Ospreys, we’d have lost thousands more.”
The praise made Connor blush, while Carl and Kevin sat up a little taller. Theresa just stared at the table, her jaw clenched tight.
Later, I’d hug them and scold them for not writing to let me know they were alive, but for now I said, “I’m so proud of you. If I had medals to pin on you, I would.”
“After we set up the barrier,” said Carl. “I’m sure you’ll find something by then— Ow!” He glared at Connor. “If you’re going to kick me, don’t aim for the bruises.”
“Let’s talk about your award ceremonies another time.” I turned back to Tobiah. “Please, tell us what happened when the wraith arrived.”
He kept his posture solid and stiff, but I could see the urge to wilt at the reminder. “At first, it was as though the wraith splashed up against the eastern mountains and stayed contained in the valley. Many evacuees went straight east along the old rail lines, aimed here, but I went south to Two Rivers City, stopping in the towns and villages in between to make sure people were ready to leave.”
“Were they?” Paige asked.
“Some.” Tobiah’s gaze strayed toward the window. “Others had never left their villages, and had no plans to leave now.”
“Even if it meant—” Paige pressed her hands over her mouth. “Really?”
He nodded. “I spent a lot of time trying to persuade them before I realized they were more afraid of leaving than they were of the wraith.”
How could someone be afraid to leave if it meant they’d live? But maybe there was no way I could understand.
Tobiah turned back to the council. “Most of Lakeside had already evacuated to Two Rivers City, so they were aware of the situation. Still, everyone thought they had several more months, maybe years. After all our projections and careful tracking, no one expected this.”
All around the table, people lowered their eyes.
“From there,” said the queen mother, “he came to Hawes, where we continued preparing the kingdom for evacuation.”
“Our riders never heard from you,” I said to Tobiah. “After your communications ended, we sent people to search for you.”
“I was forced to disguise my identity much of the time. Traveling as the king meant I was in constant danger from people who believed I could single-handedly stop the wraith.” He turned his palms upward, as though wishing for that ability. “When the wraith began crossing the piedmont, I realized Hawes wouldn’t be safe much longer, so we headed for Snowhaven Bridge—which was collapsed partway across, unfortunately.”
“Then it
was whole,” said someone from the back of the room. “We all saw it from the throne room.”
“Indeed.” Tobiah gazed around the table until he met my eyes. “We took advantage of that and rode across as quickly as possible. Then we came here to find out I’d died and you’d become Queen of Aecor.”
“I’ve never been gladder for false information.” My knee touched his and I held there so he’d know . . . what? That I still loved him? Meredith was still between us, her death not that long ago—because of me.
“Me too.” Tobiah pressed back, making my breath hitch. “We brought as many supplies as we could, including food, livestock, and building materials.”
“Thank you. We can go over the specifics tomorrow, when you’re recovered from your journey.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Perhaps we should hold off on tonight’s ball so our guests can rest.” We didn’t really need a ball to celebrate my coronation. If some believed building a barrier against the wraith was a waste of resources, surely a ball was completely useless.
“I think the ball should go as planned,” Prince Colin said. “The preparations are already made. It would be awful to waste the food and hard work people have already put into it.”
The food could be given to people in the city, but the hard work was already done.
“I think you should have it,” murmured Tobiah. “We can rest tomorrow.”
When I glanced around the table, the Ospreys all looked hopeful—for most, this would be their first ball, and Paige had put so much work into it—and even some of the Indigo Kingdom people appeared interested.
“All right.”
“That said”—Prince Colin leaned forward—“we should consider what His Majesty’s arrival means for Wilhelmina’s queenship. As I recall, the Wraith Alliance granted Wilhelmina her queenship only because the sovereign of the Indigo Kingdom was dead. Much to my delight, my nephew is alive.”
Silence fell around the table.
“Again, by some miracle.” Prince Colin never looked away from Tobiah. “When Patrick Lien shot you, you recovered so quickly, just like your cousin.”
Connor slouched into his chair, and James’s jaw tightened.
“What are you implying?” A frown pulled at Tobiah’s mouth—a reminder of his princely mask. “I’ve had a long journey and I’m not in the mood to untangle your paranoia.”
Prince Colin’s voice was steady. “I’m implying that it’s convenient you were declared dead, Wilhelmina was crowned queen, and then you arrived immediately after.”
Oh, saints. I opened my mouth to tell him to shut it, but Tobiah got there first.
“You think this was convenient?” Tobiah stood and looked down on his uncle. “You think I planned for the wraith to destroy my city? My home? Thousands of my people? You think I planned to have to abandon everything and trek across the wraith-flooded kingdom to seek refuge in the land I was kidnapped to as a child? You think I planned my numerous brushes with death, and having to persuade everyone that coming to Aecor was our only hope of survival? All so that Wilhelmina could be crowned queen?”
No one moved. Not even Prince Colin.
“Even if that had all been planned—which would make me both a mass murderer and capable of seeing into the future—do you think I’d have timed my arrival to look so suspicious? There is nothing convenient about today.” Tobiah let that linger, and then he sat down again.
Well. Now that Tobiah had that out of the way. “Prince Colin,” I said, “you are dismissed.”
He shook his head. “I want to talk about the bridge.”
I allowed my voice to dip lower, dangerous. “You are dismissed. James, please help Prince Colin to the door.”
James stepped away from his place by the wall, but Prince Colin was already up and moving. He paused at the door, taking a heartbeat to glare at Tobiah, and then at me. “Isn’t it alarming how quickly King Tobiah recovered from the death of his bride, and now he rises to support the queen who commands the creature that killed our dear Meredith?”
As members of the council glanced at one another, some with disgust or surprise, Prince Colin disappeared down the hall.
Tobiah motioned to one of his guards. “Watch him.”
The man bowed and left the room.
“Now,” I said, “there’s a ball to prepare for. Everyone has one minute to leave the room.”
As the council chamber emptied, leaving Tobiah, Melanie, James, and me alone, I drifted to the window from where Melanie and I had watched the bridge explode.
“He had a point about the bridge,” Melanie said. “The Red Militia was thorough when they collapsed it. Forty-seven people died.”
“I didn’t think we’d see anyone else from the Indigo Kingdom. At least not for a long time.” Outside, the bridge was jagged and broken once more. Gulls circled the dust plumes and remnants. “It was obviously a powerful flasher who made the bridge whole while you came across. All that magic contributed to the wraith, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t care. I’m just happy to see you again. All of you.”
“Radiants,” Tobiah said. “I thought we agreed radiants.”
Through the notebook. “Yes. We did.” I wanted to ask why he’d stopped writing and if he’d seen all the letters I sent after, but when I glanced at him, his eyes were still on the bridge. Muscles tensed in his jaw and neck and shoulders.
He’d survived war and loss and now the wraith.
This morning I’d believed he was dead. Now I faced days or months or years with only a door between us at night, but it might as well have been a kingdom. That door was Meredith and the wraith boy, and the never-fading memory of what he’d done to her.
I understood now what I hadn’t before: Chrysalis wasn’t good or bad; he was simply power. He wasn’t human, but he was part of me, a reflection of my desperate wants.
Last autumn, Black Knife and I had talked about flashers and their magic, and why they might use it even knowing the wraith was coming. I’d said they were desperate, and their desperation made them dangerous.
Chrysalis was my desperate danger.
I’d created him. I was responsible for him. And though I hadn’t wanted him to bring down the cathedral or kill Meredith, I’d wanted to be somewhere else and see the night sky, and I’d wanted Tobiah not to marry Meredith.
I understood, now, and how it might be unforgivable.
FORTY
THE BALLROOM WAS heavy with the beat of music, but the dancing hadn’t yet begun.
I lingered on the threshold, watching everyone mingle. Though I recognized people from both kingdoms, they weren’t as separated as I’d thought they’d be. Francesca spoke with Jasper and Cora Calloway. Lady Chey flirted with Kevin, who watched his tutor, Alana Todd, as she sipped from a glass of wine. Sergeant Ferris smiled at Paige.
The two kingdoms merged into one right before my eyes.
One figure stood apart. He wore solid black, with high, elegant boots and long tailcoats. The way he moved around the room was just like Black Knife: fluid and focused. When a soldier came up to him and spoke into his ear, he offered only a clipped nod and quick dismissal.
“Your Majesty?” The herald lifted an eyebrow, and I stepped forward. He turned to the ballroom to announce me: Her Royal Majesty Queen Wilhelmina Ileen Elizabeth Korte.
I forced myself to smile as the music seemed to swell and every eye focused on me. I was impossible to miss, dressed in another gown of Aecorian red silk that glittered when I moved. The style was more modern than the coronation gown, but the designs across the bodice and sleeves were similar. This gown, too, boasted a useless cape, but it was shorter and lighter, made of a flowing layer of tiny-beaded silk.
Now that everyone was staring, I made myself look over the crowd appraisingly, as though I’d just arrived and hadn’t been watching everyone for an entire minute. I met eyes, smiled warmly, and thanked people for coming tonight.
I said the things a queen would. I walked
the way a queen should. As I greeted people by name, I ignored the discomfort knotting in the back of my thoughts. It was too late to change my mind. I’d gotten what I always wanted, and now I had to live with it.
A tall, dark figure stepped in front of me. “Dance?” Tobiah’s tone was somewhere between exhausted and annoyed, but when I met his eyes there was something else. There was something desperate and starving in his gaze, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe with the way he was looking at me.
He hadn’t moved; he was a still shadow of a king, so striking and familiar, but foreign all the same. His face had barely shifted from the cool mask of a monarch, but I’d seen it. Like I’d learned to see behind the Black Knife mask, I could see through this one, too.
“I would love to dance.” My heart pounded in my throat as I took his offered hand, and together we made our way to the center of the floor. The music shifted, and people cleared away.
The dance took us in measured steps around each other, like two predators circling. We couldn’t speak about anything important, not with so many people watching us, but our eyes stayed locked.
To others, it must have looked fierce, like there was a battle between us, but the reality was deeper: I saw straight into his grief.
This was a king who’d lost everything. His father. His fiancée. His kingdom. His home. He’d been helpless to stop it; it was all so much bigger than him.
As the dance brought us closer, I whispered, “I understand.”
The tension around his mouth relaxed as the music faded. “I knew you would,” he murmured. “Better than anyone, I knew you would.”
“You know me.” My life, my secrets, my faults.
“I know you.” A faint smile pulled at his lips. “Curtsy, Wilhelmina.”
We’d stood a moment too long. I stepped back and dipped into a curtsy, while he bowed, and the guests applauded as though we’d saved the whole world from the wraith right there.
I held up a hand and the noise died. “I’m not going to make a speech tonight. I think we’ve had enough speeches for one day—for the year, perhaps—and we’d all like to see more action.”