The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(40)



“What are you suggesting?” Clint asked.

“Mirror Lake was completely normal: the life inside it and above it. And when the locusts swarmed, I observed several dying as they flew over the lake, like the wraith had been removed from them all at once.”

The chamber was quiet, save the scratch of pens on paper, and someone’s rattling breath.

“My parents—and monarchs before them—refused to sign the Wraith Alliance, a stance that has baffled the allied kingdoms for a hundred years.”

No one spoke.

“The rulers of Aecor wouldn’t sign something they had no intention of obeying, and they didn’t want to be prevented from finding answers in unlikely places. Like magic.”

Clint shook his head. “Magic causes wraith. How will it stop it?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But my parents firmly believed there was a way. So did Liadia; they broke the Wraith Alliance to build the barrier, and for a little while, they succeeded. They held back the wraith for a year.” I gestured toward the barrier scales still sitting in the middle of the table. “And a lake now littered with pieces of that barrier is a more formidable ward against the wraith than I’ve ever seen.”

Protest erupted across the room. Someone pounded on the table with each inarticulate point he made. Around the perimeter of the room, bodyguards looked to their charges, a few masks of professionalism slipping at the display. James caught my gaze, offering a slight roll of his eyes.

The outrage continued for a full minute before Tobiah rose and stood at my side. “Silence!”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“You can’t be serious about allowing this kind of talk.” Prince Colin’s glare cut to me. “It was only a month ago that you were certain not using magic at all would stop the wraith.”

“A month ago, I did believe we could stop the wraith by ceasing all magic use. I believed because that was what I was taught, as were all of you. Since then, however, the Inundation has come, and it was Wilhelmina who stopped it from completely destroying the city—by using her magic.”

“It was also Wilhelmina who caused the Inundation,” muttered someone down the table, and no one argued.

“Regardless,” I said, “wraith is already in the Indigo Kingdom. This is no longer tomorrow’s problem. It is today’s.”

“I don’t see how we can trust Her Highness’s intelligence on anything, given her history.” That came from a man sitting close to Prince Colin.

“You don’t have to trust her. Trust me, because today I am your crown prince and tonight I will become your king, and I trust Wilhelmina.” Tobiah shifted his weight toward me; his elbow brushed mine. “Now, if you’re all finished yelling . . .”

Eyes turned toward him again.

“Here’s what we know about the Liadian barrier: every flasher in the kingdom was forced to pour their magic into it, presumably while the metal was still molten, before they were shaped into scales and pieced together. We have details on the construction of their barrier, though it doesn’t list magic as one of the ingredients.”

Of course it didn’t.

“I’m open to discussion of creating a barrier of our own. It could hold back the wraith an extra year, giving us a chance to find a more permanent solution.”

“We’d still need flashers,” said Clint. “Unless you plan to use only Princess Wilhelmina. And given the punishment for using magic in the Indigo Kingdom, I can’t imagine others stepping forward.”

Certainly I wouldn’t volunteer Connor’s magic.

Tobiah shook his head. “The barrier was a kingdom-wide effort—”

“Which,” Lord Craft added, “they hid from the rest of the allied kingdoms, going so far as to send a false report. We should ban the remaining Liadian refugees from the Indigo Kingdom. They should all be arrested and forced to leave.”

“And where would they go?” asked Meredith. “Our world grows smaller every day.”

Lord Craft’s tone was dark. “Send them back to the wraithland they helped create.”

“No.” I curled my hands into fists. “That’s a death sentence.”

“Well,” Prince Colin muttered, “they certainly aren’t going to Aecor Territory.”

I turned to him, keeping my voice deep and even. “Aecor is my kingdom, and when I am in control of it, it will be a safe haven for flashers and refugees alike. Should the wraith one day overtake Skyvale, even you will not be refused shelter in Aecor.”

Meredith shot a tiny smile of support, but the rest of the room fell into death-like silence as Prince Colin stood and strode around the table, and finally stopped in front of me. He was taller, and broader, and so close I could feel his breath stir the air between us.

For a heartbeat, I was back in my room the other night when he’d been there. In the dark. Waiting for me.

My whole body shuddered with the memory as Prince Colin smirked down at me, a silent reminder of his threats.

“You don’t intimidate me,” I hissed.

Without a word, he turned and left the room. A pair of bodyguards went after him.

A quiet murmur filled the room, and it took everything in me not to slump with relief.

“I suppose the meeting is adjourned,” said Tobiah. “We will reconvene tomorrow to further discuss our own barrier. But effective immediately, I want those evacuation routes planned, and I want mirrors covering Skyvale once more. There will be no more removal of the homeless from the city. Everyone—foreign and domestic refugees alike—will be invited into the city and given jobs. We need those mirrors.”

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