The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(17)

“This”—the wraith boy bared his teeth at James—“man is not what he says he is. He’s deceiving you, my queen. He’s not real.”

I moved inside the room and stood beside James. Splinters of wood caught in my day dress, scraping the floor. “James is my friend, and he’s in charge of palace security. If he sees you as a threat, he will not hesitate to force you to leave.”

The wraith boy sniffed. “Only my queen commands me.”

“And I would agree with him. Behave.” I spun and exited the room, head high, but my heart thudded painfully against my ribs.

James closed the door after him, softly. “This is a problem. No one bothered him last night once he hid under your bed, but what if they had? What would he have done?”

“I don’t know.” My head buzzed with adrenaline. “What do you think he meant about you? You’re not who you say you are? As far as I can see, you’re the only one of us who is exactly what he says.”

“I wish I knew.” Worry and confusion crossed his eyes, but he said nothing more. I wasn’t his confidante, after all. “Give me a moment while I have the hall cleared. Then let’s get this over with.”





SEVEN


DEAD QUIET. THE hallway through the Dragon Wing had never known such silence.

Men wearing Indigo Order uniforms lined the walls, their faces hard and drawn. Swords gleamed in the bright light, every blade lifted and angled in a guarded stance. The steel was polished to a mirror finish, and none of the men so much as moved as James, the wraith boy, and I strode down the hall. Sergeant Ferris came behind us.

A canvas sack covered the wraith boy’s pale head, since some of the soldiers were superstitious about his eyes.

They were too unreal, too wraithy.

One look and he could turn you into a wraith beast, or a glowman.

If your eyes met his, you’d go blind.

James had related all the rumors while we prepared the wraith boy for transfer, and now we walked on either side of him, daggers pressed against his throat. Of course, the daggers were just for show because I had no idea if being cut or stabbed would hinder him at all. He wasn’t human.

“One, two, three, four . . .” The numbers were muffled under the wraith boy’s sack.

“Stop it.” I elbowed the wraith boy.

“I’m counting the weapons,” he murmured, as though it were completely natural.

“Do it silently.” It wasn’t as if he could see the weapons through the sack, right?

He sighed, but was quiet as we continued through the hall.

Twenty paces ahead, a pair of guards opened a plain, almost hidden door. They waited with their hands on their swords, expressions stoic.

Seventeen paces to go. A soft, breathy noise came from under the sack, like someone exhaling in quick bursts. Like smothered laughter.

Fourteen paces.

“Not real.” The sack twisted as though the wraith boy was looking at James. “Not real.”

Ten paces.

“Shall I order you to stop speaking?” I asked.

The wraith boy gasped and fell silent again, but a bubble of tension formed around him, an almost physical force.

Six paces.

The wraith boy’s knuckles were white at his sides. Tendons stuck out along his hands and wrists. He was a thing of tightening fury, growing denser before he exploded.

Two paces.

James signaled the soldiers to back away from the door, then glanced at me behind the wraith boy, his eyebrow lifted. I nodded, and he stayed put as I took the last step to the storage room.

It wasn’t much of a space, just a narrow area that used to hold cleaning supplies or linens—something maids or servants might need to fetch quickly for the royal family.

“In you go.” I lowered my dagger and touched one hand to the back of the wraith boy’s jacket, not firmly. Still, the tension in the wraith boy’s hands and shoulders unwound, and he stepped into the room without protest.

He stayed right by the door, just on the other side of the threshold, and didn’t move.

“You can take off the sack. Leave your clothes on.”

He reached around and up and plucked the sack off his head, then held it at arm’s length as though it were a filthy thing. The canvas sloughed on the floor where he dropped it.

“You are to remain in this room. If you leave, there will be consequences.”

“There are already consequences.” The wraith boy pulled forward like a cat exploring a new territory: cautious but confident.

“Do you need to eat?”

“My nourishment comes from your affection, my queen.” He knelt at the back of the room, his face just a breath away from the wall. “I found a secret. Oh, I like it.”

What?

No, maybe not knowing was better. As long as he was happy. “There will be guards outside your door. They won’t bother you, but if you yell or bang on the walls or do anything I won’t like, I’ll tie up your hands and put the sack on you, and order you to stillness and silence. Understand?”

The wraith boy looked over his shoulder and smiled. “I understand, my queen. I’ll see you soon.”

I moved out of the way as James shut the door. As soon as it latched and he turned the key to lock it, the anxious air whooshed out of the hall, as though a door and lock could keep the wraith boy contained.