by Jodi Meadows
That seemed unlikely to happen. Not when I was invading their world.
“Lady Julianna has done what few of us have dared: she’s traveled through the wraithland and survived. Her knowledge will be invaluable and her determination to put a stop to the wraith problem is no less than ours.”
Part of me wondered if those praises should make me feel guilty. But while I hadn’t trekked through the wraithland, I had lived through something horrific, and I did want the wraith problem solved.
But more immediately, I had those four tasks: information, misdirection, rescue, and map.
“I’ll make quick introductions, and then we’ll catch up Lady Julianna on our efforts.” Tobiah sat—the rest of the men followed—and gestured around the table. “This isn’t the full committee; some members have been called away recently. But I’ll start with Captain Clint Chuter, House of the Sea.”
“I remember. We were seated close together at the engagement ball.” I nodded toward the captain, who looked a little abashed by his staring earlier. He sent a faint, apologetic smile.
“General Adam Goldberg, General Fredrick Goldberg, both House of the Sun. Adam commands the Indigo Order, while Fredrick oversees the Indigo Army.”
The generals, brothers presumably, were both solid-built men with thinning hair. They eyed me warily.
I put on a shy, hopeful smile. “I’m afraid I’m not clear on the difference between the two divisions. The Order and the Army: they’re both military, yes?” I knew, of course, but Lady Julianna probably wouldn’t. Men like these enjoyed explaining things. They liked being helpful, so I would put them at ease.
Adam cleared his throat. “The Order is a highly selective military branch. We accept only highborn soldiers.”
I nodded toward Tobiah’s bodyguard on the other side of the room, standing stoically. “Like James?”
“Lieutenant Rayner is one of many young men trained to guard the King’s Seat and the royal family, as well as deal with anyone practicing magic in the city. Lieutenant Rayner’s scores on the Academy final examination, as well as a recommendation from His Highness, earned him this position.” The general sat back. “It’s a small, elite army, since there are so many qualifications.”
It hadn’t been the Indigo Order that had come through Aecor nearly ten years ago, unless Tobiah’s previous bodyguard had followed. They were dangerous for an entirely different reason. No doubt they had whole divisions dedicated to ruining the lives of anyone caught using magic.
I turned to Fredrick. “And the Indigo Army?” Which had been there. Maybe even this man. I pressed my hands to my knees.
“We accept anyone, so long as the young man has all his limbs, though, like the Order, we do comb through the records at Bome Boys’ Academy for the highest-scoring students to be considered for officer positions.” He shot his brother a wry look, an indication of a long-standing argument that might never be won. “It’s not as prestigious, but my soldiers and officers have an opportunity to travel. We have men at West Pass Watch, under the command of Prince Herman Pierce, and all along the western border of the Indigo Kingdom, protecting people from the wraith.”
Along with men from Aecor?
I bowed my head solemnly. “Both seem like selfless pursuits. I’m sure your people must be grateful for both the Order and the Army.”
“Isn’t she delightful?” Clint asked the others, as though I were a secret he was finally allowed to share.
I’d never been called delightful before.
After a bored shake of his head, Tobiah turned to the last man in the room. Though he wore a uniform of the Indigo Order, the buttons strained, and he appeared to have seen little fighting in the last decade. “Finally, my uncle, Prince Colin Pierce, House of the Dragon, Duke of Skyvale, and Overlord of Aecor Territory.”
I blanched. Overlord of Aecor.
Overlord of my kingdom.
“My lady?”
My breath was too short; I could feel it, but I couldn’t fix it. Men leaned forward, studying me. Someone said something about me not being fit for this type of work, but his voice came from far away.
The prince pushed himself up and started around the table. “James, call for a physician.”
“No. It’s all right. I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine, but my ailment wasn’t anything a physician could cure. I forced my expression into something resembling calmness, struggling to recapture the mask of Lady Julianna before I ruined everything.
Tobiah rounded the table toward me and crouched at my side, pressing one hand flat against my spine, an incredible breech in manners. “Are you certain?” He touched two fingers to my throat. Our eyes met for a heartbeat before his gaze shifted to somewhere over my shoulder. “Your pulse is racing.”
“I’m fine.” I reached for an explanation. Anything. “I’m afraid I haven’t fully recovered from my journey through the wraithland. I suppose I was thinking too much about the necessity for this committee.” I needed to control myself better. Even now, the men exchanged unimpressed glances.
James hesitated by the doorway. “Your Highness?”
The moments lengthened, but at last the prince stood and waved James back to his position. “Let’s continue. If the lady says she’s fine, we won’t disrespect her by calling the physician against her wishes.” His polite words didn’t quite disguise the withering look he gave me.
James returned to the corner where he’d been standing, but his eyes, filled with concern, stayed on me. As though I needed his protection.
Tobiah took his seat and slid a pile of papers across the table to me. “I thought you might like to study these. In addition to statistics and reports from West Pass Watch, they detail the different ways members of the Wraith Alliance have attempted to mitigate or halt the wraith, as well as the varying levels of success reached.”
None of the attempts had been truly successful, though. Like Liadia, some countries held off the wraith for a few months or a year, but eventually, it broke through. “I appreciate this, Your Highness.”
“What can you tell us of your time in the wraithland?” Fredrick’s tone turned patronizing. “If discussing it won’t be too difficult.”
Clint cleared his throat. “We do realize you’ve only just escaped. The horrors you must have endured would mark anyone. But we learn so much every time we speak to a survivor. If it weren’t so dangerous, we’d send more teams to study it. That you survived something that many trained men haven’t—that speaks very highly of you.”
It was nice of him to try to stick up for me, but I’d already made myself look weak. I’d have to rectify that.
Everyone listened, taking notes as I described the same events I had for King Terrell and Prince Tobiah my first day here. I kept my voice strong, letting it slip only when I spoke of the harrowing escape from my home—Julianna’s home—and nights in the wilderness with beasts prowling all around us. I needed my performance to be realistic and inspiring.
“We’ve heard reports of violent storms,” Tobiah said. “Did you notice an increase in activity after the wraith came through?”
I nodded. It was better to confirm these things. Everyone knew the wraith was terrible, and that it was coming. I didn’t want to give them a reason to underestimate it. “Before it arrived, summers steadily grew hotter, and winters colder. I’m sure you’ve noticed the same changes here. When the wraith hit the barrier and halted, we didn’t notice a drastic change, but when the barrier collapsed, the night immediately grew hotter.” I laced my fingers together and allowed my expression to harden, like armor against memories. “I couldn’t sleep much during the journey here. The howling. And it was so, so hot. But it snowed sometimes, too. Flakes as big as your hands. They melted as they hit the ground.”
That was one of the more uncommon rumors about the wraithland, but I’d heard it from a few different groups of refugees. It was legitimate enough for me.
They asked about other phenomena in the wraithland, questioning the same det
ails multiple times from different angles. Each time I gave the same answers, biting back frustration over the repetition. They were only trying to be thorough, to coax out details I might not be aware I’d overlooked. Their questioning would have been more useful if I’d actually been to the wraithland.
At last, they were satisfied I knew nothing more.
I sipped the wine someone had set in front of me, then leafed through the papers from Tobiah. “The wraith began after centuries of industrialized magic, correct?” That was what my parents had taught me, and what I’d taught the younger Ospreys when it came time for them to learn.
“That’s the theory,” Clint said. “The overuse of magic triggered a cataclysmic reaction we haven’t been able to reverse.”
“But it has slowed,” Tobiah added. “If you put out the fire, it stops producing smoke. Maybe not immediately, but given time . . .”
“Hasn’t magic use ceased, though? The Wraith Alliance has been in effect for a hundred years, after all.” I pushed away the memory of my hand pressed against an old crate, magic on my lips as I bade it awaken. Any wraith created would have been minuscule.
Tobiah shook his head and gazed out the window for a moment. “When I was younger, I met a girl who told me that it was safe to use magic for emergencies.”
Me. He meant me.
“She’d grown up in Aecor, where people used to believe it was only great amounts of magic that contributed to the wraith problem. I was young, about eight, and curious. I became obsessed with learning all I could about wraith. I spent hours in the library, studying. Over the next few years, I met with every expert on magic and wraith in the kingdom, but they all said the same thing: all magic contributes to the wraith problem, even a little bit. And they all agree that magic is still being used. Today. Now.” He glanced at the men around the table, who nodded. Then, to me: “Ten years ago, Aecor was an independent kingdom in the east, not just a territory of the Indigo Kingdom.”
I held my breath.
“It wasn’t part of the Wraith Alliance. Then, though people were cautioned to use only small amounts, most didn’t listen. There were no consequences, so they used what they wanted.”
No, that wasn’t what I’d been taught. That wasn’t what I’d done.
“With Aecorians using magic as they wished, the wraith approached quickly. But since we conquered Aecor, the laws there have changed. Magic is forbidden, just as it is everywhere else.” Tobiah glanced at his uncle, the shadow of a frown flashing across his face. “And the wraith has slowed its approach. It has measurably slowed.”
My voice was hoarse. “This fact is confirmed?”
Everyone at the table nodded.
“That’s why the Indigo Kingdom is doing better than it has in almost a century,” said Colin. “There’s hope that the wraith will stop. The economy is stabilizing. There’s less violence.”
If there was hope, I hadn’t seen it. The Skyvale I’d always known was dirty, hungry, and flooded with refugees. And that didn’t seem to be changing.
“How are you measuring its movement?” I asked.
Clint rose and revealed a large wall map of unfamiliar landscape, with hashes of colored ink in bands across the plains. “Here. Once a month, we send a rider to place a marker at the edge of the wraithland. We track its progress on maps like this.”
Ah, now I recognized the land. There was the Indigo Kingdom’s western reaches—West Pass Watch—and Liadia and other fallen kingdoms covering most of the paper. The bands of hashes were twelve different colors, one for every month of the year, presumably. “The bands get narrower.”
The captain tapped the map. “Because the wraith’s progress has slowed. It doesn’t cover as much new ground every month as it did previously.”
I dragged my gaze over the colored ink. There were small scribbles on the northwestern end of Liadia, hard to read from this distance. “What’s that in Liadia?”
“Unfounded rumors.” Clint returned to his seat. “Nothing you need to worry about, Your Grace.”
The crown prince glared at the map a moment longer before he continued his earlier lecture, as though I’d never interrupted. “There are pockets of magic use in Skyvale and the rest of the Indigo Kingdom. They’re why the wraith magic still creeps toward us. They’re why it hasn’t halted its approach. But if those pockets were stopped—well, smoke eventually dissipates.”
“Dissipates, yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s vanished. Like magic, it cannot be destroyed.”
He regarded me with a carefully neutral expression. “That is true. However, we have no reason to believe the wraith won’t settle or ease, and the world will be safe to live in again. The fact remains that magic use will only draw the wraith closer until the Indigo Kingdom is the wraithland.”
Could that be true? It seemed unlikely wraith would ever just go away, but could halting all magic really allow the wraith to settle enough so the world became livable? It was hard to believe there was anything but darkness in our future.
“Not everyone with magic will want to stop using it,” I said, and the others nodded agreement.
Some people couldn’t stop. Though it sometimes took all my will to avoid using my power selfishly, there were others compelled to use their abilities selflessly—to help and heal. Surely, healing couldn’t be wrong.
“That’s why they’re arrested when they’re caught,” said Clint. “Because they won’t stop.”
My voice came as thin as silk. “What happens to them?”
Silence fluttered through the room.
“They’re dealt with.” General Adam Goldberg’s voice was gruff. “Let’s move on.”
I drew a shaky breath. “Beyond putting a stop to magic use, what is being done to combat the wraith? General”—I turned to Fredrick—“you said you have men at West Pass Watch and all along the western border.”
He nodded. “Brave men from all over the Indigo Kingdom.”
“Supplemented,” added Colin Pierce, “with draftees from Aecor Territory.”
My mouth went dry. Patrick had been right. “They’re taken against their will?”
If my question offended him, Colin didn’t show it. “Aecor was responsible for so much wraith. If they’d joined the Wraith Alliance when it formed one hundred years ago, Liadia might still be here.”
I couldn’t speak. Lady Julianna wouldn’t be able to, either. But for such different reasons.
My fingernails dug into the seat of my chair, aching.
“We’re giving Aecorians a chance to redeem themselves. We’re giving them a chance to help keep the Indigo Kingdom—and Aecor, of course—safe.”
Dizziness pressed inside my head. Hearing the horrifying rumor confirmed made me sick. My people. Thrown onto the front lines to be slaughtered.
“My lady?”
I held up a hand, but couldn’t speak. Angry tears crowded my throat, and I had to look down before someone saw them threatening in my eyes.
The prince stood. “We’ll adjourn until next week. I’m certain by then Lady Julianna will feel more able to withstand these talks.”
There was grumbling, but a few minutes later, the generals, Colin, and Clint filed out of the room; the last paused just before laying his hand on my shoulder, like he thought better of it at the last moment.
Finally, the room was empty, except for the prince, his bodyguard, and me.
Tobiah didn’t move from his place. His tone was hard and unimpressed. “I invited you here because I believed you could handle the discussion.”
I mustered my voice, because I had to give some kind of excuse for my reaction. “It will never be safe.” The words came roughly. “Not the Indigo Kingdom. Not Aecor. Liadia has already shown that kind of faith to be a lie.”
Tobiah and James exchanged a look, and finally Tobiah said, “I know how difficult it can be to move beyond traumatic points in your life.”
“Not everyone has the luxury of being able to move beyond them,” I rasped.
Oh yes. I knew. But Tobiah had had a family to return home to. He’d lost nothing beyond his innocence of what people could do to one another, and that innocence had only fallen away on the ledge with me while we watched his people massacre mine.
“It isn’t something I speak of often, but it left a mark. I don’t know that we ever fully move past that kind of trauma.”
I pushed myself up, palms flat against the table. “I think I should retire to my quarters for now.”
The prince gave a curt nod, and James stepped away from the wall. Both of them watched me, one annoyed, and one wary. “Shall I escort you back?” Tobiah asked, making it clear that he didn’t want to.
“I can make it on my own.” I gave a small curtsy and gathered up the papers he’d given me earlier. On my way out, I glanced again at the wall map, and the mysterious scribbles on the western border of Liadia.
They read confidential and debated.
What did that mean?
TEN
HALFWAY BACK TO my rooms, my head still full of confidential and debated, I ran into Lady Chey.
She was as resplendent as ever in a yellow gown, a fashionable split down the middle of the top layer and an intricately embroidered pattern at the bottom. With a quick curtsy, she said, “Oh, Lady Julianna! I hope you were on your way to the ladies’ solar. We were all gathering for needlework.”
“How kind of you to invite me. But I’m afraid I don’t have anything to work on.” The very last thing I wanted to do was join Chey and all her friends for needlework.
Chey shook her head and tutted. “Don’t be silly. We’ll find something for you.”
Before I could escape, she’d hooked her arm around mine and begun guiding me through the palace. Mirrors flashed in the edges of my vision, lit by sunlight streaming through windows.
Chey was a fountain of chatter as we walked, listing upcoming celebrations and balls she was excited to attend, and what she would wear to each of them. “There are several plays coming to the Saint Shumway Theater. You should try to attend a few.” At last, she paused to breathe. “Here we are.”