The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(79)
“Not for long,” I whispered. “They are my people. They always have been.”
“Oh, we’ll make a good show tonight.” His eyes were back on me. “When we ride into the city, it will be as one. A united front. Overlord and queen. Two rulers who care deeply for the well-being of Aecor.”
“You’re afraid they will attack you.”
“With you at my side, I have no need to fear an uprising.” His smile curled up like drawing a knife from a sheath.
My fingers turned white around the reins. “Jump off the bridge and die, Colin.”
He released a sharp laugh and rode ahead, followed by a half-dozen indigo-coated guards.
“I hate him,” I muttered as Melanie returned to her position next to me.
“I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.” She rolled her shoulders and readjusted her seat. “But there is good news: riders were sent ahead. There will be dinner and baths waiting for all of us.”
“Sandcliff Castle has been updated with many of the same modern conveniences as Skyvale Palace,” Ronald added. “Apparently, Prince Colin refused to live there until gas lamps had been installed in every room he might enter, and plumbing in all the kitchens and washrooms, not just in the royal wing.”
I twisted in my saddle. “That castle is seven hundred years old! How could he rip it apart like that?”
The boys shook their heads. “It doesn’t hold the same meaning to him,” said Oscar. “But it doesn’t look as bad as you’re imagining.”
Skyvale Palace was only two centuries old, and updated severely when magic was outlawed. Prince Colin had always had the comforts of gas lamps and hot, running water, as well as a hundred other minor conveniences because of his rank and place of birth. He’d never known an orphanage or run-down castle in the mountains. He’d never been truly hungry.
His privilege didn’t excuse his behavior toward my ancestral home.
“Will you have the lights and pipes torn out?” Melanie asked.
“It’s already done, and we have more important problems to address.”
“Like what to do with Patrick.” Her voice was almost lost under the cry of gulls and hum of wagon wheels on steel. “And what will happen when you return to Aecor City with a small army from the Indigo Kingdom at your back.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
The marvel of being out of the Indigo Kingdom gave way to aching anticipation, and a melancholy note rang on the wind as we traveled the endless bridge.
Steel tower after steel tower plunged into the snow-streaked waves of the bay. At noon, we ate small lunches on our horses, and I listened to Melanie tell stories she’d learned from books in the Sandcliff Castle library, and the boys discuss how the battle had gone, and what certain people would think now that I was back and Patrick was going to prison.
Melanie pointed out Snowhaven Island, clustered in with a number of other islands filled with evergreen trees and water fowl. The bridge was anchored on the southern tip, and soon the convoy blocked my view, so the only thing to watch was the waves.
Finally, as the sun shifted behind us, I saw the pale scrape of land on the horizon, and the suggestion of towers in the south. My heart pounded as my homeland grew on the horizon, the cliffs becoming more solid and real. A lighthouse flashed and soon the end of the bridge was in sight. A pair of guard towers stood on the Aecor side, identical to the Indigo Kingdom side.
I kicked Ferguson into a trot, vaguely aware of James picking up his pace behind me as I maneuvered between riders. A few people shouted for me to slow down or watch out, but when people ahead realized I was coming, they moved out of my way.
Without my urging, Ferguson shifted into a gallop, his hooves ringing across the bridge. Gulls cried and waves crashed. Wind tore at my clothes and howled in my ears, but I was close. So close.
“Wil!” James’s voice came from behind me. “It’s not safe to go so quickly!”
I didn’t care. Ferguson didn’t care.
“We’re almost home,” I whispered. We passed wagon after wagon until we were ahead of the convoy. I could feel Ferguson’s hooves slip on patches of ice, but he kept his footing. Then we were off the bridge.
Onto the dirt.
I reined him in and he slowed to a walk, snorting white clouds into the cold air. My heart thundered in my ears as I dismounted, legs wobbling with adrenaline and disbelief.
James caught up and leapt off his horse. “Wil, are you crazy?” He grabbed my shoulders. “You could have slipped right off the bridge!”
I laughed, high and giddy, and threw my arms around him. My eyes were heavy with tears from cold and wind and wild joy. “I’m home, James. I’m finally home.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE BELLS BEGAN to ring as soon as the convoy started up the winding promontory.
Aecor City sat on a cliff side overlooking the Red Bay, where fishing boats were moored in the harbor. The rocky face glowed gold under the setting sun, crevices shadowed and fluttering with roosting eagles and gulls. Ospreys hunched in their stick nests, watching the noisy approach as the wagons were removed from the old iron tracks, their secondary wheels swung down.
I was home.
Peace had taken me home before war.
The thought swelled in my chest as we headed to the main city gates, carved from stone and reinforced with steel. The osprey sigil, framed by sharp ocean waves, shimmered in the setting sunlight. Enormous towers pierced the purpling sky, with vermilion banners hanging from the parapets. Trumpets sounded, and the gates cranked open.