The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(10)

“I didn’t know that about him.”

“It’s not exactly material for polite discussion these days.” James checked the bed, but there was no change. “Tobiah hides a lot of who he is. You can understand, I’m sure.”

“You’re very perceptive, Captain.”

He indicated a stack of framed ink drawings leaning against the bookcase, waiting to be hung. They must have been delivered this morning. “I finally got to see some of your artwork.” He pulled out a drawing of Black Knife, sword in hand.

My heart thumped as my eyes followed the lines of ink, remembering the way my pen had slid across the paper without instruction from my head. I’d hated Black Knife when I’d started that, but he’d recently saved Connor from a glowman, and our following encounters had been . . . not bad.

“You’re talented.” James put the drawing into the stack again, hiding it between flowers and landscapes—other things that were more appropriate for a young lady to have spent her time creating. “Which I knew, having inspected your forged residency documents.”

Connor gasped and stepped away from the prince. “That’s it.” He blinked a few times, as though to clear his vision from whatever he’d been seeing. “That’s all I can do.”

“Thank you, Connor.” I stuffed down my disappointment; there was no change in the prince’s appearance. “James, is there somewhere for Connor and the other three to stay? I left them in the front hall under guard, but who knows what they’ve done by now.”

He heaved a sigh. “For the sake of my security teams, are they all like you?”

Able to sneak in and out of guarded buildings, fight opponents twice their size, and pocket valuables without anyone noticing? “I helped train them.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Connor,” I said, “you can trust Captain Rayner. He’s a friend.”

After James and Connor left, I paced the room for a few minutes, trying not to check Tobiah for signs of life. Finally, I sat at his writing desk and dug through his pens and ink and paper. I settled on a stiff nib, heavy blue ink, and plain palace stationery.

Tobiah,

Thank you for the letter you so quickly left in my room. In response to your request for forgiveness: there’s nothing to forgive.

We had masks and secret lives, and it was so easy to forget our obligations while we both wore black and met in the dark. Wherever our futures are, you’ve helped shape mine for the better.

With gratitude,

Wil

Postscript: What do you think about this handwriting? I found it on a man in Thornton who was copying valuable books and selling them as though they were originals. You might want to have someone look into that, if he lived through the Inundation.

Quick and light. That was all I could manage with him barely breathing mere feet away.

The boy I loved existed beyond his black mask, a fact I hadn’t fully reconciled. But no matter my muddled feelings, he was meant for someone else. She didn’t love the part of him that was Black Knife—she didn’t know—but she cared for the prince; he’d been warm toward her.

I wanted Black Knife. She wanted Tobiah.

He’d decided who he needed to be.

While the letter dried, I cleaned the pen and organized his jars of ink by color and shade. James returned just as I folded the letter and tucked it under the golden spyglass on the bookcase. “They’re settled in?” I asked.

“Yes. They ate everything in sight and had the silverware in their pockets before anyone noticed. You’re sure this is a wise idea? I will have to answer to the queen regent about their presence.”

“They’re all that’s left of Aecorian high nobility.” We both glanced at Tobiah, still pale, but his breath was more even and deep, as though he slept easier. “They’ve fought all their lives to reclaim Aecor and this”—I gestured around the room—“sort of world that was taken from them. There’s bound to be an adjustment period. They will learn.”

“I’m assigning guards on them at all times.”

“That’s probably not a bad idea.”

“You didn’t tell me you gave Ferris the location of Patrick Lien and the others.”

In my haste to get Connor to Tobiah, I’d forgotten to bring it up. “Was he arrested?”

James shook his head. “Fisher’s Mouth was empty. If he was there, he left no trace. Where’d you get your information?”

“Same place I got my knife.” I touched the handle. Had Melanie told Patrick we’d spoken? Or had he left Fisher’s Mouth so quickly because he was paranoid? I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment while James described how many soldiers and police officers had been pulled from other duties to chase this lead, probably giving Patrick and his half of the Ospreys space to slip out of the city.

“You should go to bed.” James motioned toward the door. “You look exhausted.”

And I was exhausted, but I wasn’t leaving. I marched across the room and took the chair near Tobiah’s bed. I’d tried to make two things right tonight, and already failed at one. If I’d gone after Patrick myself . . . but I’d made a choice.

I had to see it through.





FIVE


“WAKE UP, NAMELESS girl.”