The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(120)

After a few weak attempts to open the door, I put on a show of giving up, and then moved deeper into the queen’s suite, making my own inspections inside the wardrobes, under the bed, and up the chimney. There was no one, but sending someone to keep me occupied wouldn’t be beyond Patrick.

I shimmied out of my silk ball gown, piece by piece. Cape, bodice, skirt. The whole thing puddled on the floor like blood. Next, my hair came out of the bun, and went into a plain, tight braid.

Finally, I dragged my bag from under the bed and put on the only color I wanted to wear tonight: black.

The soft fabric slid cool over my skin, familiar and comfortable. Stockings, trousers, and knee-high boots followed. I put on my belt and baldric, and secured the sword on my back.

This felt right. I felt like myself. Like Black Knife.

Mask and gloves in hand, I strode toward the balcony door. And stopped short.

The doors between the king’s and queen’s suites were open, and Black Knife stood there with his sword across his back and his mask tucked into his belt.

“It’s like looking into a mirror,” he said.

“Except I comb my hair occasionally.”

He smirked and brushed a dark strand from his eyes. “Are you going somewhere? And do you want company?”

“It might be awkward that we’re wearing the same outfit.”

“These are my best clothes.”

“I agree. As nice as you looked earlier this evening, I prefer you like this. Much handsomer. You’re invited.”

His lower lip pushed out in a pout. “You only like me because of my sense of fashion.”

“Now that doesn’t sound like Optimistic Knife.” Tension eased inside me. I’d missed this. I’d missed him. “I guess you heard about the pair of armies down there”—I waved toward the balcony—“and immediately got sent to your room.”

“Hundreds of years ago, kings and queens rode into battle with their people. Now when there’s danger, monarchs are shuffled away, too precious to risk breaking. But what makes us leaders if we don’t lead?” He strode to the balcony and pulled open the door. Cool wind whipped inside. I ducked out first.

“Did you find James?”

His tone darkened. “No. I’m not sure where he is.”

“Probably securing the castle against invasion. The good news is that I think you made him invincible.”

“Perhaps. As long as he has you to awaken him.” Tobiah paused. “And both of us to keep him alive. I don’t know what happens to him if either of us dies. Maybe he’d drop lifeless, or disappear completely.”

I opened my mouth, but there was nothing to say. I didn’t know about Tobiah’s power, but I knew what happened to animated objects when their masters died.

I busied myself putting on my gloves.

“Do you remember the last time we were up here together?” Tobiah slipped past me and stood at the balcony rail. Being Black Knife gave him strength and focus.

I knew, because it did the same for me.

“I remember,” I said.

“You had just saved my life.”

“And you were about to save mine.”

“We were so young.” Black Knife—Tobiah—leaned toward me. His arm brushed mine.

With both of us dressed like this, it was so easy to forget that we weren’t still friends trying to pretend we were enemies. It would have been so easy to think of myself as a thief with a flair for forgery, and him as the annoying vigilante who’d done me the biggest favor in the world.

He dropped his eyes to our hands, black gloves on stone, our small fingers barely touching. “This feels like ten years ago. Both of us up here. My people down there, fighting yours. I hate this, our lives coming back to what people will do for a prince, or a queen.”

“Or just someone they love, no titles necessary.” I couldn’t imagine Patrick actually loving anyone, let alone me, but the wraith boy possessed terrifying devotion. Where was he now?

Aecor City spread below, lights blazing under the cold starlight. People surged through the streets and castle courtyard, but not to fight. They wanted refuge.

“We have to go down there,” I said. “We have to stop the fighting.”

He faced me, one hand on the mask tucked into his belt. “This is your city. Where do we start?”

“The lowcity. There.” I pointed toward the marshes in the east. “That’s all the information I managed to get. You said Prince Colin had about five thousand men. It’s hard to guess at the Red Militia’s numbers, unless we find Claire.”

“Your Militia informant.”

“That’s right. She was to join the Queen’s Guard this afternoon, but—”

“I showed up. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I wanted to say more, but no words would come. Not when our relationship was so uncertain. “Let’s start near the lowcity gate. There are several courtyards and parks in that area, appearing every time old buildings collapse. The ground is too unstable to support new buildings without magic.”

“A likely battleground.” He slipped his mask from his belt and started to put it on.

“I should warn you,” I said. “Four armies. Two colors. I needed a way to identify our people, so I told Sergeant Ferris to paint the same symbol on all of his soldiers’ fronts, backs, and sleeves.”