The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(118)

Sergeant Ferris dipped his head. “Yes, Your Majesty. The Red Militia is also attacking.”

“Saints.” That was just what I needed—both enemies attacking my city at once. “Let them fight it out for a while, but clear the civilians. Move them into the castle if you need to. Fill the ballrooms and staterooms. Just get people to safety. Coordinate with Captain Rayner.” I frowned at Ferris’s and Oscar’s uniforms side by side. “I suppose Patrick’s people are wearing red, and Prince Colin’s are wearing blue?”

Sergeant Ferris nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

For ten years, my world had been red against blue, but I could no longer tell my enemies by the colors they wore. “We need something,” I said. “Something that’s just ours.”

“Not ospreys, then?” Oscar crossed his arms.

“No. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Red Militia is using that. We need something else.” I hesitated, but it was the only thing. “Black knives. Use paint, ink, pitch—I don’t care. Put them on the fronts, backs, and sleeves of all of our people’s uniforms. We need to identify our friends.”

Sergeant Ferris’s eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. “Your Majesty—”

“When we first met, you asked if I was Black Knife.” Noise from the ongoing ball punctuated my pause. “Yes. I am Black Knife. And so is your king.”

Oscar’s mouth had dropped open, and Sergeant Ferris turned ashen.

“You have your orders, Sergeant. Live through this and you can change that to lieutenant. I know the queen and king.”

“And Black Knife, apparently,” Oscar said as Sergeant Ferris ran through the hall. “What do we do next?”

“I need you to gather the Ospreys and get them ready for what they do best. Paige can prepare the castle. Connor and Ronald need to be in triage to help the physicians. Put the others where you see fit. Some should help paint knives on our army so we’re ready.”

“I should stay with you. I’m your bodyguard tonight.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oscar Gray. I have taken care of myself for ten years. I’ve let you and others follow me around for the last few months because that’s what queens do, but right now you’re needed elsewhere.”

He scowled. “What will you be doing?”

“I’m going to talk to Patrick. He knew Prince Colin was going to attack tonight. I’m going to find out what else he knows.”

“I’ll send someone for you when I can.”

“Don’t you dare!”

But Oscar was already trotting away.

With the skirt of my gown hiked up, I ran for the prison.

Patrick had answers.

I shouldn’t have put off his warning.

I could apologize. Admit he’d been right. Anything to make him tell me everything he knew about Prince Colin’s plans.

As I descended the stairs, a sense of wrongness crept around me. I slowed and listened.

The prison was quiet. No guards grumbling that they were missing the ball. No prisoners muttering that they were being mistreated. Just the faint acrid scent of wraith and blood.

When I reached the lower stairs, the copper stench grew stronger. I swallowed a few times to keep everything down.

And then I stepped off the final stair and into the guard room.

Sergeant Wallace and two others were slumped over their desks, blood dripping onto the floor. It came from their fingers, their desks, their hair. No one moved. I hardly breathed as I scanned the room, but nothing else was out of order.

Just the three dead men.

The door to the cell block hung open, only relative darkness waiting beyond.

I kept one eye on the door as I moved from guard to guard, checking for pulses I knew I wouldn’t find. They’d all been stabbed in the back of the neck with some kind of large, messy weapon. They hadn’t had time to call for help or defend themselves.

I’d have to tell Theodore Wallace’s mother.

I blinked away a tear as I slipped into the cell block, lit only by half-empty oil lamps. Listening hard for movement, I pulled two lamps off the wall and held them away from my body. They weren’t much of a weapon, but if there was someone here, I could do some damage.

But every cell I passed was empty. The rustle of my dress was the only sound.

And then, a gasp. “My queen! You’re here!”

The shock made me reach for a dagger that wasn’t on me, and I dropped my lamp. Oil gushed from the broken glass, and flame whooshed up and around me.

Chrysalis erupted from Patrick’s cell and scooped me away from the fire. The other lamp shattered as I tried to scramble away.

“Be careful,” Chrysalis scolded as he released me in the guard station. Then he noticed the bodies. “Did you do this?” His tone fit somewhere between alarmed and impressed.

“No.” I shoved him away and moved toward the stairwell. Heat bloomed from the back of the cell block. The fire was contained there for now, but it would grow if I didn’t find someone to extinguish it. “I was going to ask you if you’d killed them.”

“No!” He looked offended. “You don’t like it when I kill people, so I’m trying to stop.”

“Then what are you doing here?” I gestured around the room. “Three dead guards. Empty prison cells. What happened? Where’s Patrick?”