The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(53)

Tobiah’s jaw clenched. “I see.” He motioned for one of the servants standing by. “Prepare a room and meal for him.” He made his voice soft as he spoke to the soldier again. “Rest. I’ll speak with you further this evening.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The man bowed and left, and Tobiah stood in the aisle, arms hanging at his sides, his head dipped in thought.

Everyone just waited.

Tobiah’s chest expanded with a sigh. “General Goldberg. Is he here?”

“No, Sire.” Captain Chuter stepped forward. “But what can I do?”

“Alert the forces in Aecor. Send food and supplies. We need to move swiftly, before Lien’s control moves south to Aecor City.”

“And reinforcements?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

My breath came in shallow gasps as horror tore through me. Oh, Patrick. Paige. Ronald and Oscar. Melanie.

It was too soon. Why hadn’t Melanie stopped this?

After another long pause, Tobiah said, “I regret to inform the court that we are now at war.”





EIGHTEEN


I SPENT THE evening pacing in my suite, mind whirling with the thought of war. My kingdom. Tobiah’s kingdom. At arms.

For almost ten years, Patrick and I had been working toward war. And now . . .

Dinner arrived. I ate. And when night fell, I busied myself with my writing desk, arranging papers and pens and other tools, only to find myself unsatisfied and rearrange everything again.

At last, I pulled on my leather and silk, and just as I strapped my sword to my back, a tap came on the balcony door. I pushed aside the curtain.

Black Knife watched me, his head tilted, one gloved palm pressed to the glass. Heart pounding, I lifted a hand and laid it flat against his. Only the cool glass stood between us, and the faint light of my bedroom made me cast a reflection over him.

We stood there a moment, Black Knife and me, and then he touched the door handle, his movements like a question.

Cold wind gusted when I opened the door and stepped outside.

“I thought you’d like to take a walk.” He strode to the edge of the balcony, looking over the woods.

The rail was solid against my hips as I leaned on it, next to Black Knife. “What happened this afternoon—it’s all I can think about.”

“Me too. And it’s the last thing I want to discuss right now. I want to go back to how it was before, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

His arm was only a hair’s breadth from mine. If I shifted my weight just so, we’d be touching. “I want that, too.”

“I don’t want to talk about the war, or what happened last night, or Meredith, either.” His shoulders hunched as he leaned forward onto the rail. “I know you’ve been spending time with her. That’s probably good.”

“Probably.” I started toward the exterior wall where I could easily rappel down the side of the palace.

“I lied.” Black Knife faced me, his mask hiding his expression. “I want to say one thing. Meredith is a wonderful and kind person. She’s beautiful, smart, generous, and everything a king should want in a queen. But I’ve always felt”—he touched his mask, as though to reassure himself it was there—“a little like a monster. There are parts of me that I hate, and I face them every day. I’m not good enough for her.”

Oh, how I knew that feeling. Easily, I recalled standing in the breezeway, Black Knife saying we were the same, but I hadn’t been able to believe it. He was just so good, while I’d spent most of my life as a criminal. “What about me?” The question was out before I could stop it.

His regard was thoughtful, searching, and a triplet of heavy moments passed between us before his posture shifted. Shoulders down, chest angled away from me: he’d discarded whatever he’d been about to say. “Sorry, nameless girl. I don’t think you’re good enough for her, either.”

“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes, and a few minutes later we were on the ground and racing through the King’s Seat and Hawksbill.

Black Knife and I avoided guard patrols and climbed the Hawksbill wall, both of us scanning the city for a direction.

“Flags?” he asked, crouching low. “Or Greenstone?”

I dropped next to him, scowling at the dark city. After years of getting used to the mirrors, it would never look right without them. “Some of the shelter areas need help. The Nightmare gang was harassing one in White Flag last night. I stopped them, but they’ll be back.”

“Then let’s start there.”

“She isn’t perfect, you know,” I said before he could stand. “No one is perfect, and imagining that she’s an exception is just setting her up to disappoint you.”

“Are you cataloging her faults?”

“No. She is all those things you said: kind and generous and smart. But for all those wonderful qualities, she isn’t perfect. She loves King Tobiah. She doesn’t love Black Knife. She couldn’t accept this part of you.”

“I’m not supposed to be Black Knife anyway.”

“But Black Knife is who you are.” I shook my head. “She might be everything a queen should be . . . for a different king. The way you see her isn’t fair to either of you. She’ll never live up to the image you’ve painted, and you can’t live your life thinking you’re not good enough.”