The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(32)

Slowly, bracing myself against a bench, I stood and whispered, “Now smother the fire.”

Debris slithered across the floor and rained from the ceiling, focusing on the burning chandelier. The air began to clear as dust settled. The intense heat faded as flames died.

“Get off any people trapped. Make a path so everyone can escape.”

There were voices all around, people sobbing and screaming, but they were distant now—or maybe it was just me. Black shapes dotted the edges of my vision with that last command, and all I could see was the wraith boy’s enormous grin as he looked around the chamber.

My arm trembled as I sucked in deep breaths, but my head wouldn’t clear. It was too much, bringing the entire building to life, commanding it again and again. I had to get out. I had to put the cathedral to sleep.

I groped for the next bench, ready to drag myself out.

White hands fell on my shoulders, and I jerked away. My elbow caught a stair as I landed and glared up. “Don’t touch me. You did this, so don’t touch me. Go back to your closet.”

The wraith boy scowled but vanished, leaving me to regret the command. Now I was alone, on the floor, and unsure whether I could actually get up on my own.

The building groaned with the strain of keeping itself together. I groaned, too, as I turned over and began crawling up the stairs. Masses of bodies writhed up and ahead, people escaping the doomed cathedral, but they were just blurs of color against the white. They were all so intent on escape that no one would look back. No one would notice I wasn’t with them.

Or if they did, they were grateful. The wraith boy had brought down the cathedral because of me.

I dragged myself up, using a bench arm to steady myself. My gown tangled in my legs as I staggered and caught myself on the next bench, and then the next and the next. Dizziness spiraled around me, and my limbs were all cold. Numb. My knees wouldn’t straighten.

“Wil!” The voice seemed to come from far away. I lifted my eyes, but everything was dim.

Warm arms wrapped around me. “Hurry.”

“Rees?” I dug my fingers into her shoulder. Another familiar figure hefted me up on the other side. “Kevin?” My Ospreys had come back for me.

Step by slow step, they helped me climb the stairs. When the lights flickered out—someone had turned off the gas—and everything went dark, Theresa yelped in surprise, but her grip remained strong.

We reached the hall where the crowd caught and slowed in the narrow space, but now that the building had stopped shaking and everyone thought they were out of immediate danger, the pace was steady. There was less trampling.

“Does she need help?” That was Connor’s voice. Thank saints, he was safe.

“I’m fine.” My words didn’t come out any stronger than a mumble, but I could still speak.

Swimming in and out of consciousness, I let the others help me through the hot, noisy halls. It seemed like forever, but finally cold air hit my face as we reached the exit.

But for the moon and stars and lanterns that dotted the huge crowd below, the cathedral yard was dark. Even so, and in spite of my tunneled vision, I could see the legions of police and guards in Indigo Order uniforms. Officers on horseback rode through the crowd, iron shoes striking the cobblestones with mind-jarring rings. They urged the crowd back, farther from the building frozen mid-collapse.

I was the last one out. Those ahead surged down the staircase, throwing themselves into the safety of the crowd.

“Go,” I rasped, drawing myself out of Kevin’s and Theresa’s arms. Connor and Carl stopped on the stairs and turned around, their eyes big. “I need to finish this.”

They left me standing in the narrow doorway of the living cathedral; only when everyone was a good distance away did I press my palms against the stone. I spoke with every drop of authority I possessed.

“Go back to sleep.”

The cathedral sighed and sloughed inward.

Blackness thundered through me, dropped me, and my body—limp and useless—rolled down the stairs, too fast for anyone to catch me.

I opened my eyes and rolled to my back—and dropped another stair before I realized I shouldn’t move. The impact forced the breath from my lungs. I blinked and breathed until my vision focused, only to find a dark figure standing over me.

“Princess Wilhelmina Korte, you are under arrest for the destruction of the Cathedral of the Solemn Hour. Do not resist or we will be forced to use drastic measures.” The voice was too familiar. After Prince Colin’s invasion of my rooms, I would always recognize his voice, his stance, and the slimy way he said my name.

I managed to lift one hand and show him my little finger.

People crowded around us, protesting my arrest. The Ospreys’ voices, plus others I didn’t know. “She needs medical attention,” said Sergeant Ferris.

“She needs to be contained!” Prince Colin’s voice went ragged. “Look what she did here!”

“Yes.” Tobiah’s voice carried across the yard. “Look what she did here.”

My heart sank. Him too?

I pushed myself up so that I was sitting, more or less. I was still light-headed and my body ached with incipient bruises, but if I was going to have to explain myself, I should try to be upright for it.

Connor took my shoulders to stabilize me, question in his eyes, but I shook my head. I didn’t need healing, and the last thing I wanted was for him to demonstrate his ability in front of all these people.