The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(6)

Steadily, I moved westward, past the Chuter mansion and toward the Bome Boys’ Academy that sat along the Hawksbill wall. The school was four stories high, with a brick face and dozens of windows. Where there’d once been glass, now the holes were boarded up or covered with heavy wool blankets. Last I’d heard, the students had been sent home; during the Inundation, some of the doorways in the school had grown teeth and begun chewing.

Just past the school, I came to the wall.

It wasn’t impassible by any means, but without my grapple it would be a challenge to climb. The stone was smooth, even after the flood of wraith had changed the city.

Low voices sounded, and lanterns flared in the darkness between streetlamps.

I had to hurry, but without my tools, I had only one option.

“It’s for Black Knife,” I whispered, pressing my palm to the wall. “Wake up. Make a passage to the other side big enough for me to walk through.”

Under my hand, the stone warmed and began to ripple. Blackness paraded around the edges of my vision and I swayed. This was a mistake. I hadn’t awakened the entire wall, had I?

“There!” The soldier’s voice came from close by. “I see someone!”

“Is it the princess?”

“Hurry,” I whispered to the wall, and my vision blanked as the stone split open with a low rumble and groan. I struggled to breathe, to tell up from down. My groping hands fell on the edges of the new tunnel through the wall. Narrow. But I could squeeze through.

“Flasher! Saints, she’s using magic!” A light fell over me, too bright. “Get a patrol on the other side. Run!”

A pair of boots thumped off, leaving two men running for me.

But I was already in the tunnel, which was barely wide enough for me to move through sideways. I scooted as fast as I dared, jagged edges of stone catching on my clothes and hair.

An arm reached in. Fingers scraped my elbow. My stomach turned and I wanted to tell the wall to close after me, but I couldn’t with him reaching through. Shouldn’t. I’d have to leave it open.

“Go to sleep.” My hands scraped over the stone. “Go to sleep.”

Just as the soldier started to squeeze in after me, fingers twisting around my sleeve, I threw myself out the opposite side of the wall. He let out a frustrated growl.

“By Captain Rayner’s orders, you must return to the palace!” The guard shouted through the hole, but I was already sprinting into Thornton before the rest of the patrol caught up. “You won’t be harmed!”

I was gone, down a street and keeping close to the shadows, and finally behind a bakery where I leaned against a wall and let my breath squeeze from my lungs in silent gasps. Cold slithered into my chest.

That had been close.

And the magic. That had been stupid. Dangerous. Even if I’d animated only a section of the wall, it had still been too much. I should have found a trellis or something to climb.

But there hadn’t been time. And Black Knife was still dying.

I gave myself another long, silent breath as I listened for the patrols, and then I found a stack of crates by a fence where I could climb to the rooftops.

And I got my first look at the nighttime city since the Inundation.

The dark was overwhelming.

In Hawksbill and Thornton, streetlamps glowed like stars and hope, but in Greenstone and the Flags farther south, there was nothing. Just flat blackness.

Only days ago, there’d been mirrors on every west-facing surface in the city, catching sunsets and moonlight. All seven districts of Skyvale had been lit with faint reflected light.

But when the wraith came, every mirror in the city was destroyed. Glass windows, glass shields over lamps: those were shattered, too.

Legend had it that King Terrell the Second, Tobiah’s great-grandfather, had been called the Mirror King when he’d had mirrors hung all over the city. While it ultimately became just another way for people to display their wealth, it had been intended to frighten the wraith from ever invading Skyvale.

The truth ended up being a lot more complicated.

My wraith, what was now the boy, certainly didn’t like mirrors; it had stopped chasing me at West Pass Watch because of them. But in Skyvale, it had shattered the mirrors rather than retreat. How? Because I’d brought it to life?

I gave the dark, unfamiliar city one more look before I threw myself into it.

For hours, I moved from Osprey hideout to Osprey hideout, searching for signs of my friends. I kept an eye out for Patrick as well, but what would I do if I found him? I was unarmed, and as much as I wanted to catch Patrick and punish him for what he’d done, that wouldn’t help the prince.

It was almost midnight when I approached the Peacock Inn in White Flag—or what was left of the inn. It hadn’t been much to look at before the Inundation, but now boards had warped and bricks over the front of the building had melted over windows.

I stood at the corner of a nearby building, watching the inn for signs of the patrols James had sent after me. Three of my last stops had had a police officer lurking about, which meant James knew where I’d gone—and why.

Usually, the inn was loud with drunks and thugs, but the whole city was quiet. The few people who braved the debris-filled streets skittered from place to place, keeping their heads low. Prey, waiting for a predator to strike.

Sounds from the taproom were muted. No one felt festive tonight.