by Jodi Meadows
He said it as though he’d tried to do me a favor by asking me to kill someone.
“You intended to assassinate King Terrell all this time,” I whispered.
“I intended for you to do it, but when you betrayed the Ospreys that night in the Peacock Inn—”
“You killed someone, Patrick.” My heart pounded in my ears, deafening, and my fists ached at my sides. “You went behind my back to kill someone because you knew I didn’t approve. You hid the truth because you knew it was wrong.”
“You should be happy.” He made his voice a growl. “Terrell was responsible for the fall of Aecor, and now the Indigo Kingdom will be in chaos while the throne changes hands. This is the perfect time for us to reclaim Aecor. The Indigo Kingdom is in ruins: one ruler murdered in his sleep, and now a city on the verge of collapse. I’ve seen the refugees fleeing. They say a wraith beast is coming, that it’s shouting your name.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“How did that happen, Wil?”
As if I would ever tell him anything again.
“Regardless, we can use this to our advantage. Imagine what they’ll say now.” Patrick advanced, his glare unwavering. “Even the wraith knows of Wilhelmina Korte’s right to the throne. Even the wraith wants the Indigo Kingdom punished for what they did to her.” He drew a deep and steadying breath. “Wilhelmina, your army is waiting for you.”
Wind tore at the castle; somewhere above, a loose board creaked and banged.
“We’ll leave Skyvale tonight,” said Patrick. “All of us. We’ll return to Aecor and gather our army. We’ll strike the Indigo Kingdom when they’re most vulnerable.”
I relaxed my hands at my sides, let the tension fall from my shoulders as I strode across the room toward the dark windows.
“For almost ten years, the only thing I’ve wanted was Aecor. Patrick”—I turned to find him watching me, confidence shining in his eyes—“you made me believe that Aecor would be returned to us one day. You inspired me to work hard, to become something no queen has been before: a warrior. And for all these years, I thought I’d be willing to do anything to take back my kingdom.”
The eight other Ospreys around the room shifted, looking between Patrick and me with wide, round eyes. I couldn’t remember ever fighting with Patrick in front of them—at least not before the night in the Peacock Inn when he told me Quinn and Ezra had died. Only Theresa, Connor, and Melanie had been present then. Now, all that remained of the Ospreys watched.
I addressed all of them, too. “Recent events have opened my eyes. I’ve become aware of lines I will not cross, not even to take the vermilion throne.” I drew a shaky breath and pulled myself straighter. “I will not murder. I will not sacrifice my own people for a mission. I will not use people and let them suffer the consequences of something I did; I will take responsibility for my own actions.”
Patrick stepped forward. “Wilhelmina—”
I lifted a hand, cutting him off. “Patrick Lien, you have given us years of service. You rescued us from the orphanage. You found food and shelter for us. You trained us. But your methods can’t be ours. You lead rebellions, not kingdoms. Leadership of the Ospreys must shift.”
Rustling and whispers sounded around the others, but Patrick just stared at me without expression. “What do you propose?”
“From now on, the Ospreys do things differently. When we take action, it will be to help people, not hurt them.”
“How will you take back your kingdom like that?” he asked. “War is inevitable. War has casualties.”
I swept past him to where my bag waited in the doorway. “If we Ospreys are to be good leaders of a resurrected Aecor, we must reclaim the kingdom in a way that doesn’t involve war or casualties.”
“And I suppose you’re just going to ask for the kingdom?” Patrick shook his head. “Don’t be naive. They will never hand it over to you.”
No, they wouldn’t just hand it to me. I’d have to work for it. Earn it. “I’ll sign the Wraith Alliance.”
“And ban magic in Aecor?” Connor asked, his voice tiny.
I touched his shoulder. “Magic is already banned in Aecor. It has been for almost ten years.” Thunder rolled in the west, rattling the windows in their frames. “I know my parents wouldn’t sign it, but it makes no difference to me anymore. I’ve been to the wraithland. I’ve seen firsthand what kind of danger it poses, not just to the Indigo Kingdom, but to us. Unless the wraith is stopped, the Indigo Kingdom won’t be here to shield us from it forever.”
Patrick shook his head. “If you think you can peacefully take back Aecor, you’re delusional. It’s not going to happen. People there have lived under the tyranny of a false king and overlord for a decade. Our men have been sent to the wraithland to fight battles not theirs. But this battle is theirs: they want to fight for you.”
“They won’t have to.” I lifted my chin and addressed the Ospreys. “Come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe while I negotiate for our kingdom.”
“There’s a monster down there,” said Paige. “It’ll be in Skyvale soon, if it’s not already. We could just let the city burn.”
I closed my eyes, remembering the drawings on walls and fences: charcoal-colored knives with messages written beneath them, begging for help, or gratitude for a life. I remembered the refugees outside the city, pleading to be saved from the beast that must have followed me here.
I remembered the fiddler I’d rescued, the neighborhood I’d protected by killing the wraith cat, and the nights spent wearing Black Knife’s mask as the two of us helped everyone we could find. I remembered how right it felt to help them, to give them hope.
“No,” I said. “We can’t just let the city burn. There are good people there, and they don’t deserve to die simply because they aren’t our people.”
“We can’t stop a monster, though.” Melanie glanced from me to Patrick, and back. “We shouldn’t have to.”
No, the Ospreys shouldn’t have to, but I did. I’d have to face what I created—and soon. “I don’t expect you to stop it. I expect you to get to safety and help others there, as well. Skyvale has two armies and a police force, and tonight, they’ll have me. I’ve been to the wraithland. I’ve killed wraith beasts before. I can help with this one.”
“This one is screaming for you,” Melanie said. “It’ll kill you.”
“Maybe. That’s a chance I’m willing to take, in order to enter peaceful negotiations to reclaim Aecor.”
“I can’t allow you to do this.” Patrick narrowed his eyes; the scar over his eyebrow stood out white in the flickering light.
I turned my still-bruised cheek toward him. “Will you hit me again to stop me?”
Patrick flinched. It was small, only for a moment, but the other Ospreys saw it, and they gasped. Connor and Theresa edged toward me.
“You’re my princess,” Patrick said. “My future queen. No matter what you do, I will never again strike you.”
“Will you follow me tonight?” I forced myself to breathe evenly, to not show the way my heart pounded and my head spun with terror. I was challenging Patrick. Asking him to bow to me for once.
“Not tonight,” he said. “Not when I know you’re wrong.”
“I’ll follow you.” Connor’s voice was small, frightened, but he stood at my side with his chin high.
“So will I.” Theresa closed the distance between us, and a moment later, Carl and Kevin joined them. The Ospreys were voting.
Oscar, Ronald, and Paige crossed the room to stand by Patrick, leaving Melanie in the middle, pale and still.
“What will you do, Melanie?” I kept my voice soft, and our eyes met for a heartbeat. “Whatever you feel is right.”
Melanie gave a slight nod. “Thanks.” And with hesitating steps, she walked toward Patrick.
“Mel,” I breathed, shivering against the chill of all the blood draining from my face.
“Sorry.” She took Patrick’s hand and kept my eyes. “I just think h
e’s right. There’s no peaceful way for you to get your throne back. I know you’re going to try, and they’ll protect you when you need it.” She nodded at Connor, Theresa, Carl, and Kevin. “And while you try it your way, we’ll build your army.”
Tension snapped between the ten of us, the Ospreys split down the middle.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Theresa whispered.
I touched her hand. “It’s all right.” I cleared my throat and spoke louder. “It’s all right. Be safe on your way to Aecor. Put a cushion on the vermilion throne for me.”
Patrick’s eyes were steel on mine, a sword or knife or thundercloud sky. “Until we meet again, my princess.”
With that, I gathered my half of the Ospreys, and hurried them out the door.
THIRTY-THREE
I RUSHED MY Ospreys through the old palace, into their rooms to grab their jump bags—packs filled with a change of clothes and all their most important possessions: notebooks, childhood toys, or miniatures of their parents.
There was only one thing I needed to find: a signet ring, far too small for my finger now. My father had given it to me on my seventh birthday, after I’d made a few too many attempts to take his much larger one. I’d been wearing it when I’d awakened that night, and since then I’d kept it on a chain, hidden among my most personal belongings.
I squeezed the small ring in my hand, the ridges sharp even through my leather gloves, and then looped the chain over my head. The ring thumped on my breastbone. “Let’s go!” I called.
Rain misted across the bailey as we lit candles and tucked them inside rusted old lanterns. As quickly as we dared in the dark, in the storm, we hurried down the mountain and raced toward Skyvale below.
On a ridge overlooking the city, I halted, breath steaming in the cold air. The other four stopped at my sides. Hands fell into mine as they gasped. Theresa let out a sob.
Flames lit the western sky, all red and orange and gold as they reached toward the swirling clouds. Sparks scattered like stars. The forest was burning, whipped into a blaze under the shrieking wind. Heat billowed over the valley, brushing the mountainside, bringing with it the stink of smoke and wraith, a miasma that coiled up the back of my nose and made my head spin. Even from here, I could hear the roar of the fire, and the screams that wouldn’t be drowned out.
Every streetlamp glowed in the city below, as though it, too, had been set alight. Though the mirrors of Skyvale faced away from us, the glow of the fire’s reflected light shone all around them like a halo. Streams of people flowed from the city gates, pouring into the refugee camps and toward the mountains.
“What’s happening?” Connor shielded his face with his forearm.
“They’re fleeing.” I urged the Ospreys onward. “I need to hurry. You four don’t have to go with me. You can help people to safety in the woods. Try to organize them and find others who can help you. I’ll find you after it’s over.”
“After what’s over?” asked Kevin. “Are you going to fight the wraith beast?”
I glanced at the lit city, the palace, the clock tower, the darker patches of the Flags and Greenstone. “I’m going to find it, anyway. It’s calling my name. I’m the only one who needs to go.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” said Connor. “What if you get hurt?”
I squeezed his shoulder. “It’s all right. Help people. I’ll find you at one of our usual spots in the city. You know them, Rees?”
Theresa nodded. Smoke, or something else, made tears glimmer in her eyes. “Be safe.”
I hugged each of my friends and left my bag with them; I wore my weapons on my hips, my notebook in my pocket, and my ring around my neck. Black Knife’s mask waited in a belt loop.
Gravity pulled me down the mountain. I ran as fast as I could until I hit the first wave of refugees—they were all refugees now—and stopped to point them toward where I’d left my Ospreys.
“There are people who can help you find shelter.” I had to shout over the wind and rain and roar of fire devouring the forest beyond the city. How long would this side be safe? Even the driving rain wasn’t dousing the fire with the wind stirring everything so thoroughly.
Wet and shivering, the refugees thanked me and pulled one another farther up the ancient road.
I ran, pausing to urge people onward, promise them hope waited just above.
The minutes stretched longer. My flight down the mountain seemed to take twice as long as the hike up, but every time I spurred myself faster, my feet caught roots and tangles of brush, as though the mountain conspired to keep me up here.
“Wilhelmina!” The unearthly voice boomed from somewhere below, louder than thunder. “Wilhelmina Korte!”
The sound of the wraith screaming my name made me shudder, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t slow. I didn’t let anything break my stride until I finally reached the base of the mountain where a thick mass of people pushed and shoved their way into the forest.
Babies and children wailed as their parents pulled them along, urging them not to look up or behind, or anywhere but the road straight ahead. People carried baskets and bags of clothes and supplies. Others attempted to herd horses and cows with little success. Screams and sobbing blended into the terrible cacophony of Skyvale falling apart.
“Stay on the road!” I cupped my hands around my mouth as I moved along the edge of the crowd. “There’s help on the mountain. There’s shelter. But stay on the road.”
My shouts were hardly worth it. No one listened. People pushed and shoved, trampling one another to reach the safety of the mountains. What could I do? I had to get into the city, but this exodus was on the verge of becoming a riot. But who was I? No one to them.
Unless I was Black Knife.
I pulled his mask over my head, immediately enveloped in the soft musky scent of boy. With my sword out, I stepped into a shard of light.
Someone pointed. “It’s Black Knife!”
Immediately, people began to crowd me, reach for me, and touch me as they had before, but I shouted for them to back up and brandished my sword.
“You, you, and you.” I pointed to a handful of people who looked my age. “Gather everyone you know and get this crowd under control. Get people back on their feet. And you four”—I nodded at a clutch of children, maybe Connor’s age—“tell everyone that Black Knife is promising safety in the mountain, but they must stop fighting one another. No one dies tonight.”
The children and teenagers ran off, and I moved down the mob of people, giving others the same instructions. I couldn’t tell whether the crowd was calming, and I couldn’t hear much over the din of voices and fire and roaring thunder, but I hoped with everything inside me that the people I’d recruited to help would be successful.
At last I reached the city wall. The gate was blocked, too many people trying to escape, so I hurled my grappling hook over the parapets and climbed up.
“Wilhelmina!” The deep voice came from everywhere, rumbling through my head until it pulsed behind my eyes.
I gasped as I grabbed hold of the stone parapet, hooked a leg over, and finally rolled onto the walkway.
There was no time to catch my breath. I scrambled to my feet and looped my climbing line, and once it was secure, I began to run along the edge of the city. Guard tower doors hung open, leaving my path unblocked.
My sword in one hand, a stolen torch in the other, I rounded the easternmost district, sparing only glances for the chaos that waited inside.
Red Flag burned, homes and shops and inns. Wraith wolves and bears lumbered through the streets, fighting, chasing people as they ran toward the city gates. People cried out for help, splashing through blood in the streets. A wraith cat yowled and pounced on a fleeing man, who threw his young son out before him. The boy tumbled to the ground, froze, and reached for his father, already half disappeared into the beast’s jaws.
I hesitated, struggling to decide whether to leap down and help, but this was far from the only horror
happening in the city. Somewhere, my wraith creature screamed for me.
Trumpets stole the decision. Indigo-coated men raced into the street, brandishing swords and crossbows and torches. They fell on the wraith beasts without mercy, slicing and stabbing the howling creatures. A few men hurried to pull the boy away from his father’s corpse.
I continued onward, uncertain where I was going. Somewhere high. Somewhere I could defend myself.
Rain poured down my face and neck, making the mask stick to my skin. I pushed myself faster through the wet night, coughing against the smoke and stink of wraith.
“Wilhelmina Korte!” The voice came from deeper within the city, and I pursued it through the drowning city of mirrors. Glass gleamed and glowed with the blaze to the west, illuminating the city as surely as sunlight. My heart was thunder in my ears, matched by the beat of my boots on the stone ramparts. My sword weighed me down, bouncing on my thigh, but I didn’t throw it off; I might still need it.
Who knew what waited for me down there?
I kept running.
More gruesome scenes played within neighborhoods below, people fleeing the prowling wraith beasts. Glowmen ran rampant through the city, urging the beasts onward. Several buildings were gutted, hollowed out by something rampaging through them. Stone and wood and bricks littered the cracked streets. Here and there, it looked as though the pieces crept toward one another, as though to reassemble; but that might have been the mist and rain playing tricks on my eyes.
“Wilhelmina!” The keening that followed pierced the noise of fire and screams and rain. Pitched higher and higher, the voice shrieked and rang in my ears.
From Hawksbill out, every mirror in the city shattered. Glass blew from windows and frames and walls, and rained into Skyvale in gold-glittering shards.
I threw my torch in front of me and collapsed into a ball on the walkway, covering the back of my neck with my linked hands. Sparks of pain flew across my back and hands and head, coming from the mirror I’d been standing next to. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, clenching my jaw against the fire of glass slicing open my skin. My gloves and clothes took the worst of it, though; I was lucky.