by Jodi Meadows
No wonder the prince’s wraith mitigation committee wanted to keep that place on the map confidential.
Liadia had broken the Wraith Alliance, but did anyone even know what the results were, let alone what they meant?
It seemed no one was interested enough to find out.
No one but me.
EIGHTEEN
PALACE SOCIAL LIFE kept me engaged most days, but a few times I managed to disguise myself and sneak into the city to secure travel aboard a caravan to West Pass Watch. But for my plan to succeed, I needed Melanie’s help.
It had been a week that we’d been avoiding each other since the incident in the Peacock Inn, and I’d seen only traces of Melanie’s existence: food eaten, notes lying on the table, invitations sorted. Once, we’d run into each other in the sitting room and stared as though we were strangers, until we awkwardly edged around the perimeter and went opposite ways.
I couldn’t let that happen now. I had to catch her. I had to speak with her.
With twenty minutes until a maid came to finish preparing us for dinner—one we both had to attend—I sneaked into her room and waited.
“We need to talk,” I said as she pushed opened the bedroom door.
Her room was half the size of mine, dominated by a large canopied bed and wardrobe. Light streamed in through the window, reflecting in a handful of mirrors. Melanie crossed the room quickly and sat on her bed.
She pushed aside a few books about the origins of the Houses and didn’t once make eye contact with me. “I’ve already had the drop location changed.” Her tone was stiff.
“That wasn’t what I—Wait, when?” I gripped the split outer layer of my day dress. “When you went out of the room and spoke with Patrick last week?”
She stacked the books onto her nightstand and lined up the corners. “No. The other night.” Her chin tilted up a hair. “After you left the room, I left, too. I went where I always go.”
My breath caught. After weeks of avoiding the truth, was she finally going to tell me where she’d been going after delivering reports? “And where is that?”
Melanie stood, long, black hair framing her face and delicate features, now pulled down with distaste. “It’s Patrick. We meet at the inn.”
“You and Patrick?”
“Why not?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Do you think he doesn’t get lonely?”
“I never even considered it.” He was always so practical and calculating. That was why so many Ospreys followed him without question.
“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes, tilting her head back. “I doubt you’ve ever considered he might be capable of feelings, or that anyone could see through the armor he wears every day. You’ve probably never considered that someone might actually love him.”
Love?
My mouth hung open. My best friend had been falling in love—with Patrick—and I’d missed it.
“It’s that impossible for you to even comprehend?” She twisted her little finger at me and started out the door, but then looked back, her eyes hard. “And after all of that, he decided he should be your king. Oh, we could still have a relationship, but we’d have to keep it discreet, because he wouldn’t embarrass you by having a public mistress.”
“Mel, I had no idea—”
“We can’t really be together because of you.” Her knuckles were white where she gripped the door handle. “Because he needs you on the throne, and he needs to stand by you to keep the kingdom strong. Everything he does is for you.”
She stalked out, slamming the door shut behind her.
I followed and reached for her shoulder just as she was rounding the sitting room table. “Melanie. Wait.”
She shook me off, tears shining in her eyes. “After everything he’s done for you, all that he’s sacrificed, you said no to him. You might as well have told him he wasn’t good enough, just like his father always did.”
My heart thudded. I wanted to be nothing like General Lien. “I’m sorry.”
“Your rejection won’t stop him, you know. He’s determined to see Aecor rise as the glorious kingdom it once was. Your manipulation won’t change any of that.”
“My manipulation?”
She threw her hands up. “You changed my report. You tried to hide important information from him.” Her shoulders curled in and her expression set into a frown. “All he cares about is you and Aecor and putting the kingdom right again. That’s the only things he cares about. And me. A little. Not as much as he cares about you.”
“Patrick makes his own decisions,” I said. “Don’t blame me for anything he’s done, because I never asked it of him.”
“But you never said no.”
“I said no at the inn.”
Melanie closed her eyes. “You did. And it hurt him.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt him.”
“He’s done so much for you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“It does,” I said. “I care about Patrick. And you’re right: he’s done so much for me—for all the Ospreys. But I won’t marry someone I don’t want to marry, and Patrick shouldn’t, either. If you love each other, then you should be together. You don’t have to hide that from me.”
Her words came soft. Pinched. “He told me to hide it.”
Maybe Patrick did love her—I couldn’t know his heart—but demanding their love stay a secret seemed unfair to both of them. “I’m sorry,” I said at last. I should have seen what she was going through, rather than stew in my suspicions.
She held my gaze for a minute, followed by a slow nod. “All right.”
I twitched the corner of my mouth upward into a hopeful smile. “I was actually hiding in your room for a reason. I needed to talk to you about something. Why don’t you sit?” I pulled out one of the chairs and patted the back.
She took the very edge of the chair, sitting stiffly as she smoothed the layers of her dress down her thighs. “Talk.”
My heart thundered as I struggled to find the words. “The list of resistance groups . . .”
Her frown deepened. “Yes?”
“I wanted to hide the list from Patrick because I thought he was going to pull us from the palace once he had it. I didn’t expect”—I couldn’t hide the scowl—“his other mission.”
“You mean to kill someone?” She said it neutrally.
“Right.” I swallowed hard, not sure I really wanted to ask. “Do you know who the target is?”
“No. He didn’t tell me.” She shifted, but her discomfort seemed to be from not knowing, not because she was lying.
I leaned against the table, focusing on the floor for a moment while I collected my thoughts. “The truth is, I’m not ready to leave Skyvale yet. Not because of any of this.” I gestured around the sitting room, opulent with all the silk curtains and books and portraits. “I’ve learned about something that could be important to Aecor’s future.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m going to the wraithland.”
“Why?”
“There’s a lake in Liadia. If the rumors about it are true, parts of the Liadian barrier fell into it. And the barrier—Mel, it was made with magic.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Liadia broke the treaty?”
“Yes. And there are a million rumors about what the magical barrier did to the lake. Whatever happened there could help solve the wraith problem before the Indigo Kingdom and Aecor fall.”
“And you have to be the one to go look?”
“Who else is going to do it?”
“Anyone else!” She slapped the table and leaned forward. “Don’t be stupid, Wil. This isn’t worth your life.”
“No doubt that’s most people’s attitude. And that’s why I have to do it.” I held up a hand, forestalling more questions. “I don’t want Patrick to know. This is for Aecor, but he wouldn’t understand.”
“He might!”
“Would he let me go?”
“No, and with good reason.”
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I crossed my arms. “Mel, I know you want to defend him, but listen to what you just said. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t think the wraith is a problem yet, and he wants to put off dealing with it until after we take back Aecor. But by then, we’ll be occupied with stabilizing the kingdom and fighting off the Indigo Army. And Colin Pierce is going to want Aecor back, of course. By the time we have Aecor under control, it could be too late to do anything about the wraith. We have to do something now, whether or not Patrick approves. And since I’m going to be queen, it’s my responsibility. If I’m not willing to take risks for my people’s well-being, I don’t deserve to be queen.”
“Isn’t it your responsibility to stay alive? Where will Aecor be if you die?”
I didn’t want to think about that. “I’m sure Patrick would come up with some way to cope.”
She heaved a sigh. “So what are you going to do? What do you need me for, besides keeping your secret from Patrick?”
“Will you keep my secret?”
“I haven’t decided.” She inclined her head toward my open bedroom door, to where tonight’s gowns hung. “We don’t have long before dinner, so just tell me your plan.”
“All right.” I took a seat and met her eyes. “I need you to cover for me while I’m away. With Patrick, but also with the palace.”
“I thought as much.”
“I’ve already gathered supplies and gotten myself on as a guard in a merchant caravan heading to West Pass Watch. It leaves in the morning. Tonight, I’m going to fall very ill. I will need you to bribe or otherwise persuade a physician to claim he’s seen me.”
The familiar light of mischief shone in her eyes as she nodded. “I’ll turn down all of our invitations, make excuses for you, deliver reports, and finish our map. But I don’t want to lie to Patrick.”
“I know.” I squeezed her hands, urging her to understand. “But I need to do this. I need to do everything in my power to put a stop to the wraith before it gets to Aecor. The Indigo Kingdom isn’t any closer to stopping it, and they won’t be between it and Aecor forever.”
“Are you sure you can’t find answers here?”
“I tried. I’ve searched every office and records room, but nothing tells about the lake, or whether all the things we think we’ve learned about the wraith are actually true. I have to know. I have to see for myself.”
“Wilhelmina, what makes you think you have a chance where everyone else has failed?”
The truth balanced on the tip of my tongue, but I’d kept my magic a secret so long that the words died there on my breath. Anyway, I wasn’t even sure whether confessing my ability would be an explanation for why I thought I had a chance to do something about the wraith.
Before my hesitation stretched too long, the maid knocked and entered the sitting room, tutting about how little time we had before dinner with the Pierce family, Lady Meredith, and several other members of the royal household.
It would have been a great honor to be invited, if we’d truly been Liadian refugees.
But for us, it was simply an opportunity to study the Pierces and their extended family, and sow seeds for my upcoming deception.
“Time to work.”
“Say it again,” she said, and offered a tiny salute.
Throughout dinner, I coughed into my napkin and pretended to have trouble focusing, as though faint. My apparent condition grew worse over each course, and I forced myself to eat very little, though the food was delicious and it was all I could do not to devour every scrap of roasted duck.
“Lady Julianna?” James leaned forward, his voice low while the others discussed how the Saint Shumway Theater had been designed for magical effects, and what a shame it would be to remodel the building now.
“We didn’t rip up the palace and start over when crisis struck.” Meredith shook her head. “We should respect such a historic building.”
“My great-grandfather didn’t tear down the palace,” Tobiah said, “because all of the original fixtures could be renovated for nonmagical use. Besides, building the palace nearly bankrupted the kingdom, thanks to Kelvin Geary. Can you imagine the riots if the Pierce family constructed another palace, after the Geary fiasco?”
Meredith sniffed. “That doesn’t mean—”
James touched my hand, drawing my attention again. “Lady Julianna, are you well?”
“I’m fine,” I breathed.
“Don’t fib, my lady.” Melanie frowned and felt my forehead and cheeks. “You’ve been holding back that cough for a week now, and you’re flushed. If you don’t get some rest, you’re sure to develop a fever.”
Tobiah glanced over, wearing an odd mix of boredom and concern. Meredith abandoned her defense of the theater and began inquiring whether I was getting enough rest.
By dessert—the most delicious-looking torte with cream and raspberries that I wasn’t allowed to eat, thanks to my condition—I gazed around listlessly until Melanie begged an excuse for us, and after a round of good nights and get wells, she helped me back to our apartments.
A few hours before dawn, I got up to finish packing.
Melanie plaited my hair, pinning and tucking it so that the length could be hidden beneath a cap. A tight tube of silk to flatten my chest and a borrowed jacket later, I was William Cole, a young guard hoping to pay his way into Bome Boys’ Academy; I was reaching above my station, no doubt.
“You look very handsome,” Melanie said, adjusting my hat once more. “All the ladies will swoon.”
“I don’t think ladies are allowed on this trip.” I checked myself in a mirror. The only thing missing was a sword, but I knew where to get one. “Just don’t tell Patrick where I am, right?”
“I won’t. I promise.” Melanie hugged me. “You’d better come back on time, or I’m going after you.”
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t want you to enter the wraithland or risk revealing yourself here.”
“But—”
I shook my head. “Swear you won’t.”
She let out a small sigh. “All right. I won’t.”
It was still dark when I hefted my pack onto my shoulders and climbed out the window, leaving Melanie staring after me.
I hoped I’d been right to trust her.
NINETEEN
IN THE PREDAWN hours, the caravan clattered into movement. Guardsmen shouted and vendors cheered as horse hooves clopped the packed dirt. The larger wagon wheels had been folded up, allowing the smaller set to run along the grooves of the old railroads. A deep, metallic hum filled the air.
Trains, of course, hadn’t been used in one hundred years—not since magic was banned—but the Indigo Kingdom had found a way to make the old tracks useful anyway. The route curved around the Midvale Ridge; autumn washed down from those heights, all red and gold and russet. On foot, the journey to West Pass Watch took two days, with an extra half day added for the wagons.
I was assigned to the rear guard, following in the caravan’s dust. Lovely. But I kept my silence and mimicked the way the men walked, one hand on my stolen sword as though I could cut down anyone if they dared threaten the merchandise. The sword wasn’t my best weapon, but it was a requirement for this job.
The other men chatted amicably as morning wore on, discussing the rations they’d brought and the previous guard work they’d done. Many, it seemed, had made a habit of working as hired guards, and knew one another well. It paid better than the Indigo Army; that much I knew.
“What brought you here, boy?” one of the men asked.
I shrugged and let my voice fall deeper—but not so much that it sounded like I was a girl pretending to be a boy. “It’s work.” The words rattled around in my chest as I adjusted my stride.
“Is this your first job?” he asked.
“It is.”
“Huh. You hold those weapons like it isn’t.” He eyed my belt, heavy with my daggers as well as my sword. My pockets and hidden compartments in my pack were filled with my usual equipment.
I shrugged again.
“Get in lots of fights back home?”
I shot him an annoyed glare. “Are you here to make friends or do your job? I’d rather not die in a refugee ambush, so kindly shut up.”
One man flicked his little finger at me, and the others grumbled among themselves for a moment before one said, “There was a caravan ambushed by refugees not two weeks ago. It was a caravan heading east, and they killed several merchants and guards. Refugees died, too, at least.”
Revulsion washed through me. Those hadn’t been refugees. Those had been Ospreys, posing as guards.
Just like me.
They must have been so frightened when the other guards brought down their swords.
I pushed away thoughts of Quinn and Ezra. Right now, I needed to work.
Eventually, the men lost interest in me, letting me lag behind. I kept close watch on the trees, listening for any sounds out of the ordinary. Ospreys practiced stealth in the woods as much as in the city, keeping to the shadows, keeping our voices low, and keeping alert because anything could happen to a handful of children—now teenagers—alone in the woods.
In contrast, the caravan was noisy with the hum of wheels on steel, hooves striking dirt, and the voices of men unworried about attack. The forest animals had gone quiet with our passing and would be no use as indicators of anything else.
Our shadows shortened before us and we paused to eat rations and let the horses drink from a stream that ran down from the mountains.
“There are caverns that way.” One of the men sat next to me and pointed northward. “Black as pitch in there, but if you bring a good light and mirrors, you might have a chance of seeing some amazing structures. You’d think a sculptor went in there first. Air’s so clean, too, it almost hurts to breathe when you come back out.”
“Don’t tell him about that one, Josh,” said another man. “There’s better ones north of Skyvale. Some of the stalagmites are hollow tubes, and you can blow over them like flutes. Those are better.”