The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(28)

“It’s nothing.” If he’d ordered the mandatory evacuation of Greenstone, he wouldn’t appreciate what I’d done last night. “Ask your police what’s going on.”

“Ah. What did you see?” When I didn’t respond, his tone shifted toward practiced patience, the same as a prince would use to handle a hysterical subject. “I’ve seen police abuse power, and I’ve always made sure they’re removed from their duties. That’s one of the reasons I kept on as Black Knife. I wanted to help people.”

“And then you came back here to your palace and safety. You haven’t lived with that fear. Not really. Last night, I saved a girl from a fused wraith monster—both a lizard and a snake—and if I hadn’t been there, she would have died. There are people squatting in Greenstone, hungry and more afraid than ever, and the police won’t let them stay.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, thought better of his words, and bowed his head. “I will investigate. Although when I do, I expect to see a report saying Black Knife made an appearance?”

“No one saw me directly. It’ll be rumor only.”

“I’ll deal with it.” Tobiah closed his eyes and blew out a sigh. “Teach me about this life, the one you say I don’t understand. I care about my people and I want the best for them, if it’s in my power to give it to them.”

“Of course it’s in your power.”

“If only that were true.” He took my shoulders, gentle but firm. “I’ll learn, but you need to learn, too. You’re going to be queen one day, and you’ll crash straight into the limits of your power if you’re not careful. I put on the mask because of those limits, and I can see you doing the same thing right now.”

“I need this mask. They need it, too.”

His voice turned kind, cautious. Not the prince, but not the vigilante, either. “Where is it coming from? This anger.”

“Everywhere.”

“It will cripple you, Wil.” He let his hands slide off my shoulders. Down my arms. “Trust me.”

Trust me. Forgive me. He needed so much from me, and what could it accomplish except my broken heart?

“Promise me you won’t go into the city tonight.”

“I can’t make promises for anything that far in advance.”

“That’s five minutes from now.”

“I don’t know how I’ll be feeling in five minutes.”

He closed his eyes and seemed resigned. “I suppose I wouldn’t act any differently.”

“I have to do something. I feel disconnected staying here. Restless. Useless.” How could I explain it? “He almost ruined everything for us—our kingdoms, our ideals, our lives.” I whispered, “He tried to kill you.”

He swallowed hard, fingers unconsciously brushing his stomach. Ghosts of pain fluttered across his face. “Take off your mask.”

I shook my head.

“Please. I want to see your face.”

“And I don’t want you to.” Beneath the mask, my skin felt hot and sticky and damp.

Tobiah caressed my cheek. “Letting other people do their jobs doesn’t mean you’re doing nothing. You have people here who need you, Wilhelmina. Your Ospreys, for example. And if you want Aecor, you’re going to need to fight for it in a new way. My uncle won’t give it up easily.”

No. Prince Colin wouldn’t. He’d been controlling Aecor for almost ten years, doing whatever he wanted with it. He’d even sent Aecorians to fight the wraith beasts and glowmen at the edge of the wraithland—farmers and fishers and people who had no idea how to defend themselves from monsters.

How would I persuade anyone the kingdom was mine? Let alone someone who’d gotten used to controlling it?

I’d wanted to negotiate peacefully for my kingdom, but I didn’t even know how to begin. What use was I in the palace? In the city, I could do good. In the city, I could help people.

“You’re going to be a queen,” said Tobiah. “At some point, you’ll have to accept that you can’t personally take charge of everything. You’ll have to trust people to work for you.”

“I trusted Patrick.”

“A difficult lesson. You’ll be more careful next time.”

“My Ospreys are looking into changes for the Wraith Alliance, and Melanie is spying on Patrick for me.”

He offered a faint smile. “That’s a good start, Wilhelmina.” With a deep sigh, he stepped away from me, like distance could snap our tense connection. “Why don’t you sit? You can be comfortable and surly at the same time.” He dragged out his desk chair to face me.

“And you’ll be in your nightclothes for our whole argument?”

“I’d protect my modesty, but I’m afraid you’d flee while I was indecent in the dressing room.”

There would be no imagining Tobiah indecent in the dressing room. Not from me. “I don’t flee. I evade.”

“Call it what you want.”

“Thank you for the invitation to argue, but your diversionary tactics won’t work on me. Patrick or no, there’s work for Black Knife in the city.”

There was no denying that.

“You could come with me,” I said. “Unless—Does it still hurt?”