The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(104)

Or it could be guilt.

“No, Sergeant, thank you.”

This uncertainty was awful. I should be able to trust the people under my command. It was one of the lessons Tobiah had been most insistent I learn. And I was trying, but if one of these people was a traitor . . .

When Sergeant Hudson brought another handful of folders to me, I flipped through and pulled out the ones dated since Patrick’s incarceration. I gave the remaining folders back to him and turned to Melanie. “Ready?”

She gave a clipped nod, but her eyes spoke differently. Was anyone ever ready to interrogate someone like Patrick?

Not just someone like Patrick, but the man she’d been in love with? The man she’d thought she could redeem?

The man who turned out to be a murderer?

As we entered the cell block, I took her hand in mine. “I’m counting on you. You know him better than anyone.”

“I’ll do my best.” She pulled back to straighten her clothes and run her fingers through her hair. Then we strode down the hall, between the cells holding almost a hundred Red Militia members.

Most of them ignored us, but a few jeered, some called me “Indigo whore,” while others called out that Queen Wilhelmina was here, and everyone should behave. I didn’t look directly at any of them, just kept my head high as Melanie and I made our way to Patrick’s cell at the far end of the hall.

He was sitting, elbows on his knees and hands clasped before him. His short hair had grown a few finger lengths, and stubble covered his chin and throat, but when he looked up, his expression was as hard as ever.

“Wilhelmina.” He didn’t blink as he assessed my appearance. “You should get more sleep. You look exhausted.”

“I’ve been too busy chasing your Red Militia.”

“And after all that work seizing your kingdom for you.” The words were flip, but there was no humor in his tone. “You should show some gratitude.”

“There was an explosion on Snowhaven Bridge earlier. Did you organize that?”

He gestured around his cell. “I’ve been in here, Wilhelmina. Tell me how I could do anything.”

“How are you communicating with the Red Militia?”

Silence.

“The Red Militia is coming together again. What is the purpose?”

Nothing.

“Who is your informant here?”

For an hour, I attacked from different angles, but he’d stopped talking whatsoever, and I had a flash of what it must have been like for James when he’d questioned me about King Terrell’s murder.

Melanie waited at my side, her arms crossed and all her weight to one hip as she studied Patrick’s manner. When I shot her a small, questioning look, she shook her head.

Even to the people who’d once believed they knew Patrick best, he was unreadable.

We pressed for another half hour before I backed off and ushered Melanie down the hall. “He’s useless. Let’s go.”

Her face was tight; he hadn’t even acknowledged her.

Just as we were out of his sight, Patrick cleared his throat.

I held a hand up for Melanie to stay, and then took a single step to see inside his cell.

He’d stood, hands behind his back and shoulders straight, and watched me with the same intense gaze he’d always worn: carefully crafted neutrality. He’d perfected it over the years. “Congratulations, Wilhelmina. You’re really going to be queen tomorrow. It’s just what I always wanted for you.”

My own facade slipped. “How did you hear about that?”

“I hear everything.” His eyes never left mine as a terrible, threatening smile formed. “Be mindful of Colin. No doubt you’ve made a real enemy out of him.”

That was as much as I’d get.

“What do you think?” Melanie asked once we were on our way to my rooms.

I handed the visitor logs to her. “Perhaps we can find our traitor in here.”

“Yes, hopefully our traitor is stupid enough to sign in under their real name.” But she took the folders. Back in my rooms, we ordered dinner.

While we waited, we organized the logs and compared names and frequency of visits. A few people stood out for visiting every week, but were quickly explained. One had a cousin in prison, while another had an uncle. Of course, just because they said they were visiting relatives didn’t mean they weren’t actually visiting Patrick, but surely one of the guards would have noticed.

None of the listings specified they were visiting Patrick.

“Did any of the guards look suspicious to you?”

Melanie finished reading the last page of visitors and shook her head. “I’m the head of your secret intelligence. Everyone looks suspicious to me.” She flashed a smile, but it didn’t diminish the seriousness of her words. “I’d be shocked if it were any of the blues. It’s possible, but unlikely. There are a number of reds who work in the prison, including Sergeant Wallace—”

The parlor door opened and Danie came in with a tray. Her cheeks were flushed. “Pardon,” she whispered, and began to set up our dinner while we hurried to clear space on the table. “Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?”

I started to tell her no, but maybe there was something she could help with. “How much do you know about Sergeant Wallace?”