The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(64)

“I don’t think this is safe,” Connor said.

It wasn’t safe. Not here. Not there. The only safe place in the world was Mirror Lake. “I know.”

“How will we communicate?” Connor asked again.

“By courier, I assume. Unless you know of a better way.”

“Magic?” His voice was small. “I just want to know you’re safe. You’ll be all alone.”

I ran my fingers across the spine of The World Poison: Magic and sighed. “I have an idea.” I headed into the study, where I found a pair of white notebooks, blank on every page. “Wake up,” I whispered. “Be the same. What is written in one will be written in the other—at the same time and in the same hand—no matter the distance.”

A wave of dizziness surged through my head, and I gripped the desk to steady myself. When it passed, I took the notebooks out to the parlor again to explain how they’d work.

I emerged from the house as cold dawn glowed over the valley. The mountains were dark with winter, and as familiar as the Ospreys’ faces. For years we’d lived in the old palace in those mountains. Now I’d be going through them, down the piedmont, and beyond. . . .

“This way, Your Highness.” Sergeant Ferris ushered me toward the carriage that would take me to Prince Colin’s convoy. The driver sat on the front seat, glaring at the pair of bay horses. “Your belongings are already stowed in the convoy wagon.”

“The wraith boy?” I was stalling. I knew his wardrobe had been taken to the convoy because I’d ordered him to cooperate—to simply accept any bruises gathered while the wardrobe shifted around him, and not react to any jeers or insults given through the crack in the door.

Sergeant Ferris motioned at the carriage. “Your Highness—”

The front door opened again and Connor threw himself outside, clad only in his bedclothes and a too-big coat. No shoes. “Wil! I caught you!” He hugged me so tightly I nearly fell over.

“Barely.” I glanced at the carriage, as though irritated and pressed for time. “I was about to leave.”

Sergeant Ferris’s disapproving frown shifted into the palest of smiles.

“I wanted to give you this.” Connor thrust his small silver mirror into my hands. “In case he turns on you.”

I gripped the tarnished piece of metal and studied his thin, earnest face. “Won’t you need it?” It was his prized possession, with stylized birds stamped into the border.

“You’ll need it more.” He offered an awkward, sideways hug.

I forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Before I could say anything else, he was back inside.

“That was a sweet gesture.”

Inside the carriage, I spread my gray travel dress over my legs and tucked the silver mirror into a pocket in my bag. “Connor is the younger brother I always wanted.” My chest felt heavy as I glanced at the house once more, and found four faces peering out of the second-story bedroom overlooking the road. I snapped and thumped my chest, but the carriage jerked into motion before I had a chance to see if they’d noticed the salute.

“You’ve known him a long time.”

“After the One-Night War, a handful of toddlers were taken to the orphanage. Connor and Carl. The third, Ezra, died a few months ago during a mission Patrick sent him on. His older sister was killed, too.” I squeezed the signet ring on a chain around my neck. “I hadn’t wanted them to go. I thought it was too dangerous. But Patrick insisted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I want him stopped, Sergeant. No matter what anyone thinks about me, I want Patrick Lien stopped.”

As we drove through Hawksbill, I could almost pretend this was an official state visit and something good was about to happen. Not that this was a desperate ploy to halt a war. Not that I was fleeing the Indigo Kingdom where I was unanimously reviled.

At last, we stopped at the main avenue leading out of the district. This was where I’d been arrested after my Liadian residency papers had been discovered as forgeries, and where I’d been revealed as Princess Wilhelmina, thanks to the newly solid wraith boy.

The convoy was almost ready. Bridles clanked and men called orders. Maids scurried from place to place, carrying baskets and boxes. Soldiers checked wheels, hinges, and locks on supply wagons. Indigo banners snapped in the breeze, bearing family crests and House sigils. Hawksbill residents stared out from their windows or doors; some of the ladies gave silk scarves or lace shawls to the soldiers. For luck. For protection, as though they were going to fight the wraith.

“Where will I be?” I asked Sergeant Ferris.

He handed my bag to me, Connor’s mirror peeking out from a pocket. A proper princess would have allowed him to carry it, but the idea of being separated from my emergency supplies—a change of clothes, weapons, rations—made me nauseous.

“The king ordered a wagon for you.” He pointed toward a pale wagon with red trim and wheels, and a flock of ospreys painted under the eaves.

“What a good target it will make when someone wonders if it would be easier to set me on fire than endure my presence on the way to Aecor.”

“Ever the pessimist.” Tobiah’s voice made my stomach drop, and I spun around.

“Your Majesty.” I dipped into a polite curtsy as Tobiah and James emerged from the crowd of nobles saying good-bye. “Come to see off your uncle?”