The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(49)

“Dressed for bed already?” I lifted my hand to my sword hilt. “I thought you might want to get some air.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I was crowned king today and held a party that went on too long. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Being king has changed you. You never want to have fun anymore.” With a fake pout, I slipped around him and unhooked my baldric. “But I suppose I can see why you might need to rest after dealing with all those people.”

“Speaking of all those people, what did my uncle say?”

I stopped short of laying the baldric and sheathed sword on his desk. “Nothing interesting.” My things dropped to the desk with a heavy thunk.

“Unfortunately, my uncle is rarely uninteresting.”

I shrugged and made sure my mask was on straight. “He made a request, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve already decided what to do about it.”

“And?”

“I’m going to do the worst thing one can to a man like him: ignore him. Show him that he’s nothing.” Even if I thought he’d actually release Aecor to me, betrayal was yet another method I wouldn’t use to take it back. I needed to do it honestly. “What about you? I heard a tense discussion with James. Are you all right?”

“Eavesdropping is rude.”

“And yet it’s a way of life for some of us.”

He gave an exasperated smile. “James wants to know how he healed. I’m looking into it, but mostly I’m grateful he’s still with us. Losing him would break me.”

“I feel the same about Melanie.” I shifted my weight toward him and put on my best mock-serious tone. “Did you know snake-lizard venom eats the edges of swords?”

“Wil!” He threw his hands in the air. “Consider that my final gift to you. You haven’t even had it a week and you’ve already ruined it.”

“You must have a low opinion of me, Your Majesty. I took very good care of the gown.”

“The gown?”

“Silver, with ospreys clutching swords embroidered across the bodice. They looked just like these boots, so I know you’re responsible for it.” I propped my foot up on the edge of the desk chair. Black ospreys soared around my calf, just below my knee. “Tell me, Your Highness, do you embroider?”

“Ah, that gown.” His smile faltered and memory fogged across his eyes. “The one you wore to my father’s . . .”

My breath hitched. His father’s birthday ball, when he’d argued with King Terrell about marrying Meredith, and later we’d kissed in the breezeway, maybe at the same moment Patrick was sneaking into the king’s sleeping chambers.

Tobiah slumped toward the edge of his bed and sat. His fingers clutched vaguely at his heart, as though he could rip out the pain. But it wouldn’t go away. Not ever.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to bring that up.” I was thoughtless.

He lifted his eyes to me. “No, it’s part of my life now.” Understandably, he’d think of his father now, when only hours ago he’d taken his father’s place. “I didn’t accept your help after the Inundation. It was foolish. I’d like to accept your help now, if you’re still offering,” he said.

“Of course.” Haltingly, I crossed the room and stood before him. “Of course I’m still offering.”

He reached for me, arms lifted up like hope, and suddenly we were holding each other so tight. His fingertips dug into my shoulder blades. I hated myself for ever thinking he was spoiled, having ten extra years with his father. It hurt fiercely, no matter when it happened, and there was no pain compared to that of seeing one’s father die, or finding his body.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into his hair. Neither of us could have prevented our parents’ murders, but the pain and what-if were undeniable.

I’d been a child when it happened. Innocent. Terrified. Forever changed because of what I’d seen.

He was older. Less innocent, but still terrified, because he was expected to be a king now.

Get married. Win a war. Stop the wraith from destroying everything.

He spent so much time being everything for everyone else: a son, a prince, a hero.

“I should have protected him,” he whispered, drawing back. He looked so devastated. “I should have spent more time with him and been there when Patrick came. I thought the city needed me, but it was my family I’d neglected all along.”

“You were doing something good. Your father would have been proud if he’d known.” I bit my lip and met his eyes. “I didn’t get to know him well.”

“I know.”

“During the breakfast I shared with him, he only wanted to talk about you. His regrets. But I think he would have been proud that you’d taken the initiative to venture into the city, how you fought to help your people in a way most kings or princes would never dream. The night of his birthday ball, he said he hadn’t put his family first. It was always his kingdom that got his attention. That might be the price of ruling. That was a lesson you learned from him, and one you put into action when you put on your mask. So yes, I think he’d be proud of you for becoming the king he’d trained you to be.”

“Yet I still disappointed him. The last words we exchanged were in anger.”