The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(19)

Carl shook his head. “I hate patience.”

“That seems foolish,” Kevin muttered. “Delaying truce negotiations. Patrick’s going to start a revolution in Aecor.”

“It is, but Skyvale and Aecor are far apart. It’s not as much of a concern for most people here. And in spite of the Inundation, the Indigo Kingdom is still in a much stronger position than Aecor. Whatever troops Patrick manages to mount will be nothing compared to the might of the Indigo Army.”

Theresa bit her lip. “You make Aecorian independence sound impossible. Was there ever any hope?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Patrick made it sound inevitable. But he has that inevitability about him, doesn’t he?”

“I miss it,” she said. “That certainty of knowing we were right and we would take back our kingdom because of our rightness—that was comforting. Now everything seems so gray.”

“It’s awful.” I forced a minuscule smile. “I’m going to hire a tutor for the four of you. They should be able to help you understand any confusing parts of the document, in addition to instilling some courtly manners into you barbarians. Maybe help with the grayness of everything, too.”

“A tutor.” Carl made a face.

Kevin looked up from his pacing, and the list he’d been studying. “The crown prince will allow for magical experimentation to help solve the wraith crisis?”

“He’s desperate. The Liadian refugees have left Skyvale, probably heading for Aecor. Already the southwestern edges of the Indigo Kingdom have fallen to the wraith. Soon, everyone will begin looking east.”

“Who will be using magic? All the flashers in Skyvale get captured. Or—” Kevin cocked his head. “Are the rumors about you true?”

A sinking feeling washed over me. I’d intended to tell them, but his tone of betrayal was cutting. “Some of the rumors are true.”

“What do you mean?” Connor whispered.

“I am a flasher. I’ve always been, but I’ve kept it hidden. I try not to use my power.”

All around the sitting room, jaws dropped as I told them about the locust attack in the wraithland, what I’d done there, and how the wraith became a boy.

Theresa covered her frown with a fist. “I’m not sure where to start asking questions.”

“I know.” I sank back into a chair and sighed. “There’s a lot to take in.”

“Will we get to meet the wraith boy?” Carl asked.

“You don’t want to.” If I could, I’d keep him locked in his room forever. “I just wanted you to know the truth—from me, not from rumors.”

“That’s why Tobiah is willing to amend the Wraith Alliance.” Kevin dropped to a chair again, knees banging the table. “Because even if it’s just rumors, your power is public now, and if he wants you as an ally, he has to justify it by making sure magic is allowed under special circumstances.”

“Can it work?” Connor asked. “Could your magic help stop the wraith?”

I rubbed a spot of tension from my neck. “Maybe. I don’t know. What I did before—it was messy. Uncontrolled. I had no idea what I was doing because it was too big. And while I could try it again, I don’t know if I should. How much more wraith did I create by doing that?”

Of course, they had no answers.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with them, showing them around the public areas of the palace, warning them of who to avoid angering. Sergeant Ferris and another guard trailed after us, not quite invisible as I familiarized my friends with the library, ballrooms, and training rooms.

A copy of the Wraith Alliance had already been delivered by the time we returned to their suite, so I bade them good evening and happy studying. Only Kevin looked truly chipper at that.

At the door, I turned back to the small group and forced cheer into my voice. “Remember, we’re here as ourselves—not to steal valuables—but be guarded, too. Secrets remain secrets.”

They all nodded.

“Remember your lessons.”

“Our lessons on eating the fastest?” Kevin asked.

“Or picking pockets without being detected?” Theresa offered a sly smile.

“Or,” Carl mused, “do you mean the lesson we all learned when you and Mel threw knives at us and we had to be faster?”

“They were wooden knives. They wouldn’t have hurt you. Much.” But I smiled, just a little, even though Melanie’s name hurt. “Your lessons on manners.” With an utterly false grin, I left the suite and hurried back to my own quarters, Sergeant Ferris close on my heels.

Maybe Tobiah and his mother had been right: I should have gone after Patrick when I had the chance.

In my bedroom, I tore open the bag of Black Knife supplies. The clothes and boots were my size, the latter with black ospreys embroidered around the top, invisible except to those looking closely. The belt—black, obviously—accommodated several weapons and tools, including my daggers that had been taken, my grappling hook and line, and a pouch with coiled silk cords. There was also a tiny handheld crossbow and a black-handled sword, meant to fit in a baldric strapped across my back.

Though several of my own tools were included—I recognized the worn parts on my lock picks—everything else was just like Black Knife’s, the size adjusted to fit me.