The Orphan Queen

by Jodi Meadows

  Moments of deafening silence chased the ear-numbing scream. The clatter of glass hitting the ground was faint, faraway.

  My skin felt on fire as I grabbed my torch and sat up. The flame wavered in the rain, but didn’t die.

  All around me was a shining field of glass shards, bright in the firelight. The blaze in the west blew closer, billowing heat and sparks.

  Aching, I climbed back to my feet and ran through the glass, which crunched under my boots, making me slip where slivers lodged into the soles. A few times, I had to stop and pry out pieces that sliced through, scraping my feet. My fingers throbbed from the pressure it took to remove the glass.

  Finally, I found a good place to leave the city wall. A wash line had been stretched from a cheap housing building to the wall—illegal, but not enough of a problem anyone cared to do anything about. I tested the line’s strength—it would hold—and held my sheathed sword above my head, over the line. I abandoned my torch and zipped downward, onto the eastern side of a building.

  I sprinted toward Hawksbill, gasping at the reek of fire and smoke and wraith. The odor only grew stronger as I leapt from rooftop to rooftop through Thornton. Everywhere in the streets, I saw bloodied people carrying one another to safety. The Indigo Army was spread thin, but there were always at least two indigo-coated men in sight. Though many of those men now lay dead in the streets.

  The Hawksbill wall stretched before me, lamps still burning even with the windshields blown out. I took my usual route onto the wall, wincing when glass cut through my gloves and trouser knees as I reached the top.

  I couldn’t see much farther than the mansions nearest the wall, thanks to smoke and mist, but I had enough visibility to tell that the rich district had been devastated. Blackened gardens, shattered glass, toppled statues: that was only the beginning. Nothing was how I’d left it just hours ago.

  “Wilhelmina!” It came from so close now. Hot wind cut through the rain, and I couldn’t help but imagine it was the beast’s breath on my cheek.

  “I’m coming!” The words ripped from my throat before I could consider the wisdom. But maybe if it knew I was here, it would stop this destruction.

  Wind tore at my mask and pushed between my fingers; if I lifted up my arms, I might be able to fly.

  Tendrils of heavy, white mist wove around the cracked columns and statues of a nearby mansion, and the screaming became a whisper. My name fell into the cracks of other sounds: between the splashes of a fountain, the crackles of the fire, and the gasps of my breath.

  “Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina.”

  The whole world was calling my name.

  No, not the whole world—just the wraith I’d brought to life.

  All this mist was here from the wraithland, and it was alive. Sentient. I hadn’t created a beast, but living wraith. It stank, sharp and acrid and toxic, and even as I watched, the stone statues twitched and began to move, while rose beds—those that hadn’t yet burned—began to petrify.

  Wraith was everywhere in this city, and it had come to find me.

  I stretched out my hands to encompass the whole area, just as I had in the wraithland. “Go back to sleep.”

  “No.” The world spiraled into a thousand voices. “Please. We’ll die.”

  It was going to argue with me?

  But even as I was about to give the order again, feathers of mist began to break off and sink to the ground, lifeless but still toxic.

  No—no, this was a bad plan.

  “Stop!” I shouted. “Wake up! Stay awake.”

  The air shimmered and thunder struck, and life crackled down the tendrils of wraith.

  “Become solid!”

  The odor of wraith seared my nose so that my eyes watered and I couldn’t see straight, but when I wiped at my eyes, the white mist was coalescing in the street. Heavy, pained groaning came from the wraith as wisps of mist flew at it from all over the city.

  “Wilhelmina.” Its voice grew less wild, more contained as the wraith amalgamated into a single, solid mass.

  Head spinning, I hooked my grappling hook onto the wall and began descending to the street. If this corporeal thing was just as destructive as the incorporeal, I needed to be ready to command it—or fight it.

  Powdered glass crunched under my boots when I landed and took a few tentative strides toward the swirling mist. My hand stayed on my sword. My glare stayed on the wraith. Distant were the sounds of flames and screams and thunder; my focus tunneled on the pitiful cries the wraith made, the desperate way it said my name as though I’d save it from this torture.

  The last of the mist sucked into the new form, and I gasped.

  It was a boy.

  A corporeal, wraith-white boy who shivered in the rain and wind. His wiry body was hairless, unclothed, and when he looked up, his eyes were wide and round and as blue as the midday sea.

  He climbed to his feet and turned a complete circle, inspecting the demolished area. Shattered fountains. Statues in a terrifying state of almost-movement. “Where is Wilhelmina Korte?” Glass dug at his bare feet, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I must find Wilhelmina Korte.”

  I ripped off my mask and drew my sword. “I am Wilhelmina Korte.”

  The wraith boy stared for a heartbeat, then dropped to one knee. His body folded like a sheet of paper. “My queen.”

  I squeezed the hilt of my sword and took a step toward the boy. He was real. Alive. A person. Wind tugged at the mask in my left hand, a small black banner. “You’re what saved me in the wraithland,” I said.

  The boy looked up and met my eyes. His body didn’t move, though. His shoulders stayed curled toward the ground, so the way he lifted his face made it look as though his neck were broken. “You commanded me, Queen Wilhelmina. You commanded me, and I will do anything you desire.”

  Cold spiraled through me, freezing every sliver of awe I’d held only a moment ago. He wasn’t a person. What had I made?

  “But there will be consequences.” His teeth shone when he smiled wickedly. “There are always consequences.”

  “What are you?”

  “Yours to command, Queen Wilhelmina Korte.”

  A quiet gasp alerted me of an audience. Lights in the windows of the surrounding mansions brightened and dimmed as people pressed to see us, staring down at the wraith boy and me. They’d seen what I’d done. Who I was.

  “Wil?” The voice made my heart pound. “Wilhelmina?”

  I turned to find Crown Prince Tobiah in an Indigo Order uniform, James at his side, and an army at their backs. My name rippled down the ranks.

  “The lost Princess of Aecor is Black Knife,” someone said. “Wilhelmina Korte.”

  “Wil?” Tobiah stepped forward.

  At once, the wraith boy was on his feet. His fingers elongated, his spine lengthened, and he lunged for Tobiah with uncannily strong, fast legs.

  “No!” I took off at a run, several paces behind. “Stop!”

  Tobiah and James whipped their swords up to guard, and the men at their back echoed the motion, but it wasn’t necessary.

  At my cry, the wraith boy halted and spun to face me, his body back to normal proportions.

  The prince’s army wasn’t so easily stopped, though. Dozens of men rushed toward the wraith boy, their boots stomping the street like drums. They were going to kill him.

  I threw myself in front of the boy, my arms out wide, my sword pointed at the ground. “Don’t!”

  In the space of a breath, Tobiah’s expression shifted from confusion to fear, and he stepped in front of me, his sword lifted to defend me. James hurried to protect Tobiah.

  The army stopped; the men wouldn’t lift their swords against their prince. Ragged breathing filled the air.

  “Killing him will only release the wraith again.”

  Only as I spoke did I realize the wind had died and the thunder had faded. Steady rain thrummed down on the city, and on the fire in the west. The blaze was slowly retreating. Even the screams in othe
r parts of the city had fallen silent, as though all the wraith from those beasts had been sucked into this boy.

  What were they now? Confused deer in the streets? Panicked kittens? Or were the beasts all dead?

  Tobiah moved first. “Stand down. Lower your swords. No one will harm Princess Wilhelmina.” If anyone else noticed the way his voice trembled over my name, they didn’t show it.

  “How do we know she’s Princess Wilhelmina?” one of the soldiers asked.

  I pulled the signet ring from around my neck and handed it to Tobiah.

  He held the ring up to the light, inspecting the engravings in the metal. “Two ospreys in flight. The Korte crest.” He offered the ring back to me. “She is who she claims to be.”

  “She might have stolen it,” muttered a soldier I half recognized. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “No.” Tobiah’s throat jumped when he swallowed, and he turned to face me. Our eyes met, memories filling the space between us. “This is Princess Wilhelmina of Aecor. I remember her from the night she saved my life.” His voice softened. “Wil. Of course.”

  “And this . . . creature?” asked one of the men. “What is it?”

  I stepped aside to regard the wraith boy. He stood there, looking mild and awaiting instructions.

  I could almost see the consequences of his creation buzzing around him like gnats. The way he smiled sent shivers through me, but I held myself tall. Of all people—and things—he seemed the most dangerous to reveal fear to. That he was mine to command meant nothing; he was dangerous.

  Tobiah shrugged off his coat and shoved it at the boy. “Put this on.”

  The boy glanced at me, and accepted the coat only when I nodded. He was naked. Heat rushed up my throat and cheeks.

  “It was wraith before,” said James. “I saw it change.”

  I tried to smooth the shaking out of my voice, but shivers wouldn’t quite let me. “He’s human now. He’s still wraith, but he’s human now, too.”

  “What do we do with him?” asked a guard.

  I didn’t know. Pressure pounded through my head; I didn’t know what I’d done, how I’d made him, or why he followed me here. I didn’t know anything, let alone what to do with him.

  The wraith boy leaned close to me and whispered in my ear: “Come to the changing lands with me. Come back with me.”

  No, no, no. I shifted away from him.

  “More important,” said another man, “what do we do with a princess who just used magic?”

  Everyone looked at Tobiah.

  His voice perfectly even, Tobiah said, “I’m well aware of Her Highness’s ability. She and I have been experimenting with magic to—” He staggered back as James shoved him aside.

  The lieutenant’s face crumpled with pain as he clutched his stomach, where a crossbow bolt protruded. Blood soaked his shirt and jacket.

  “James!” I grabbed under his shoulders as he began to drop.

  Men shouted, scanning the area. “There!” Someone pointed at a dark figure leaping off the Hawksbill wall, into Thornton. The silhouette was familiar and moved with mountain lion grace.

  “Go!” Tobiah pointed toward the wall. “Find him.”

  A handful of guards raced toward the would-be assassin, while others jostled me aside to tend to James. Someone helped him lie down; another checked his back to see whether the bolt had gone all the way through. A few ran for the palace, bellowing for a physician.

  I stepped back and turned to the wraith boy. “Find whoever shot James. Then bring them to me. Alive.”

  With a too-wide smile, the wraith boy dashed into the night, outpacing the soldiers within moments. I watched him as he leapt the wall without trouble, and then I dropped to my knees beside James.

  Sweat streaked the lieutenant’s face, and his breaths were harsh gasps. “Tobiah?”

  “I’m here.” The prince knelt next to me. “I’ll make sure you get help.”

  “Your Highness,” one of the guards said. “We need to get you indoors. The assassin could return.”

  Tobiah touched James’s shoulder and stood. “Very well. I want Lieutenant Rayner taken to my guest quarters, once he’s stabilized. And Princess Wilhelmina assigned new apartments. Make sure—”

  “Your Highness!”

  There was no more discussion. A guard took my elbow and hauled me after the prince and the guards dragging him.

  I took one last look at James on the ground, but he hadn’t moved.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  RAIN DROWNED THE fires in a matter of hours, leaving plumes of heavy smoke rising in the west for days after.

  The city was in ruins, buildings gutted and forever changed by the presence of the wraith. Every glass mirror on the west-facing walls had shattered. Sweepers filled the streets as dawn broke, steadily removing the dangerous shards that glittered in the banners of gold sunlight.

  Maybe mirrors weren’t so useless after all, if the wraith had broken every single one in the city.

  When paths opened in the streets, bodies were gathered, identified, and buried. Dead wraith beasts were burned. People returned to the city and began restoring their homes and shops, and searching for missing loved ones.

  Restoration of Skyvale would be a long, slow process, especially with winter closing in. Even the food stores in Greenstone had been demolished. But the Indigo Army was called in to help, as well as men from all of the surrounding cities and towns, and they brought food and blankets and clean water. A more than fair compensation had been promised for their assistance.

  I wasn’t allowed out of my new apartments, and I was permitted no visitors. In the days following the battle, the only person I saw was a young maid who was terrified of me.

  I was not a prisoner, but neither was I a guest.

  I’d been writing in my notebook to calm my nerves, when a boy knocked and offered a card with a note written in unfamiliar handwriting.

  Her Highness Princess Wilhelmina Korte,

  Please join me at James’s bedside, located in the guest quarters of my suite. I require your assistance. Come at your quickest.

  In hopeful friendship,

  Tobiah Pierce

  What did that mean? Was James better? Worse?

  Dead?

  I abandoned my open ink jars and left my pens on the desk, uncleaned. With only my notebook in hand, I hurried after the boy. My silver gown swished around my ankles, hampering my strides. But as visiting—or captive—royalty, and being lately identified as Black Knife, I wasn’t permitted to sneak about in trousers and a belt full of daggers. I wasn’t even given knives at mealtimes.

  My new apartments were in the Dragon Wing, not far from Tobiah’s quarters, as it turned out. They must have wanted to keep a very close eye on me, if I’d been placed in the most guarded area of the palace.

  The young escort knocked on a door, and when I was given entrance, he vanished down the hall.

  The crown prince’s suite was expansive, with a parlor, a music room, and a private dining room. These were inhabited only by guards now, indigo-coated men with grim expressions and hard eyes they trained on me, as though I’d been the one to attempt to assassinate their prince. As though all this were my fault.

  In a way it was.

  Tobiah met me in the parlor. He wore his mourning suit, all gray, and dark circles hung under his eyes. “Your Highness.” He offered a slight bow and motioned me toward a closed door. “Please join me.”

  I followed him. “How is James?”

  “See for yourself.” He turned on the gas lamp, even though light shone through the window.

  My ridiculous dress swished as I approached the bed where James lay on his back, breathing regularly. His eyes were closed, as though he were sleeping. I looked up at Tobiah.

  “His healing is miraculous.” Tobiah offered a chair, but I shook my head. “The bolt hit his gut, but the wound is gone. No scar, even. None of the physicians can explain it.”

  I frowned. “Can you explain
it?”

  “How could I?” There he was—the prince I disliked so much. But immediately, Tobiah’s countenance softened. He tilted his head and gazed at his friend. “I’m sorry. No, I can’t explain it. I have suspicions, but I’d rather not say right now.”

  “I see. You said you needed my help.”

  “Yes.” He took a long, steadying breath. “You have every reason to dislike me. I behaved as though I had no prior obligations, and I will never be able to make up for my indiscretion. Not to you, and not to Meredith. I am thoroughly embarrassed by my actions.”

  Our time in the breezeway was the last thing I wanted to discuss. “You said you needed my help,” I repeated, colder.

  He flinched, but nodded. “James hasn’t . . . He’s healed, but he hasn’t awakened. I was hoping you might use your power of animation. I remember seeing you use it when we were children. You said, ‘Wake up,’ and the rope immediately came to life.”

  The room grew very quiet between us.

  “You know I can’t.” My words came like chips of ice. “Even if my power brought true life, it would have no effect on a living man.”

  Tobiah closed his eyes.

  “Second, you heard the wraith boy. There will be consequences for what I did to him—consequences I can’t even imagine. Don’t you think it would be even worse if I tried to use my power on James? He’s already real. Alive.”

  “Wil—”

  I held my fists at my sides, barely keeping hold of my notebook. “You’ve ignored me for days, trapping me in apartments that feel smaller every hour. You’ve permitted me no visitors. You didn’t even come to me yourself and find out what I know. And when you do want to see me, it’s for something you know I cannot do. Will not. I won’t use my magic again.”

  Tobiah glanced down at my hands; they were shaking. “Wil.” His voice was soft, almost like Black Knife’s. “What happened in the wraithland? Where did all that wraith come from? Why did it come for you?”

  “Now you ask? It’s been days since the battle, since we knew each other’s identities. You could have asked me anytime.”