The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(15)

I halted in the middle of the hallway and studied her guileless face. She deserved a true answer. Not the whole truth, but some truth, nonetheless. “It’s my rank that’s part of the problem.” Saints, I wished Melanie were here. “The last thing he expected when I was unmasked, so to speak, was to discover the heir to the vermilion throne. He’s already dealing with the wraith problem and his ascension to the throne. I complicate everything.”

“Still,” she said. “It’s no excuse for his poor behavior.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Lady Meredith.”

Sergeant Ferris followed me. Was he a bodyguard? Spy? Did it even matter? His sidelong looks were skepticism and distrust, with a dash of superiority. He was who he claimed to be, while I exchanged one identity for another, as quickly as changing clothes.

I doubted Sergeant Ferris would judge his crown prince so harshly.

But with the death of King Terrell, Black Knife would never go out again. If I didn’t know his identity, I wouldn’t know why he’d disappeared. I’d have looked for him a few more times, and accepted that he’d been called to do something else. He would have remained a mystery, a dark and lovely memory who haunted my dreams.

Forgive me, his note had said. Forgive me.

“Your Highness.” Sergeant Ferris hauled open the door to my suite, as though I didn’t have the strength to do it myself. “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

I ignored him and went into my room.

The wraith boy was exactly where I’d ordered him: under my bed, his pale face peeking out from beneath the blankets hanging over the sides. His chest was pressed against the hardwood floor, not quite on the nearby rug of lamb’s wool that warmed my feet every morning.

“You’re still here.”

“You told me to wait for you.” His voice was like wind, hollow and ageless, and dangerously powerful.

“I know, but—” Saying I’d hoped he would have left didn’t seem wise. “Well, get out from under the bed.”

He shimmied out and jumped to his feet, as though spending the night under my bed hadn’t left his limbs stiff or his muscles sore. The tattered indigo jacket hung on his lean frame, not quite covering enough.

We stood there a moment, both of us waiting for my next command. I couldn’t look away from him, this strange creature in my quarters. He was wraith, part of the toxic cloud smothering the continent in a white mist that changed the fundamental laws of nature. I’d seen trees growing upside down, and roads rising in the air with nothing to hold them aloft. I’d seen people and beasts that couldn’t maintain a size or shape. I’d seen innocents trapped in something clear and solid, just heartbeats away from escape.

Wraith was terrible stuff, of that I had no doubt. But in the shape of a boy, with a voice and a consciousness, was it any different?

I had no idea what to do with him.

But I had to start somewhere. A pile of men’s clothing had been delivered; it waited on a cedar chest near the door.

I grabbed underclothes, a shirt, and trousers, and strode across the room, not taking my eyes off his. “What’s your name?”

His shrug was a too-fluid ripple. “Do things name themselves in your world?” He cocked his head, lizard-like. Though he’d been completely hairless the night of the Inundation, when I ordered the white mist invading the city to become solid, he now had a fine white fuzz covering his skull. He was somewhere between comical and cute, at least until I remembered his feral grin and the way his fingers elongated into claws when he attacked. But now, his tone was soft. The way he hunched his shoulders, like a child enduring punishment, was almost sweet and sad. “I had hoped you would name me. You gave me life.”

A frown pulled at me. “I didn’t intend it.”

“Didn’t you?”

Definitely not. My magic wasn’t supposed to work like that. Animating objects wasn’t the same as giving them life. This had never happened before, so why now? “What are you?”

“I don’t know.” The wraith boy shrank a little. “Do I have to put on those pants?”

“Yes.” As if being Black Knife, the lost Princess of Aecor, and a known flasher wasn’t damaging enough to my reputation. I couldn’t have a half-naked boy in my suite. “Here.” I shoved the bundle at his elbow. “Don’t put them on in here. Go into the music room to dress.”

He took the clothes and sighed, but I couldn’t tell whether it was the thought of putting on pants or the need to leave the room to do it that exasperated him so much. Beneath his borrowed jacket, his shoulders slumped. “I am a mystery, my queen.”

Chills swept through me. I retreated to the table and lowered myself into the nearest chair. “Explain.”

The wraith boy tugged at his jacket, as though it suddenly wasn’t big enough. “You gave me life, but you’re unsatisfied. In the changing place, you asked me to save you. And I did. I smothered the locusts. Then I followed you because I wanted to be with you, but you ran. You hid behind the reflections, so I went around. At last I discovered where you had been. I could feel your presence all through the city, but couldn’t find you. Not with the mirrors. So I broke them. And then you came and ordered me to become solid. I hoped to please you. But again, you seemed unsatisfied.”