The Mirror King (The Orphan Queen, #2)(8)

“You too, but stop walking around unarmed. This is a dangerous city.” With a faint smile, she pulled a small knife from her belt and handed it to me. “I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”

I snapped and thumped my chest.

She saluted, too, and with a brave grin, she sauntered down the alley, spinning a second knife in her hands. Her form vanished into the shadows, and I swallowed back the threatening tears. I didn’t have time to miss my friend now.

Thanks to Melanie, I knew Patrick’s location. I could go after him—with a score of police and Indigo Order men to back me up—or get Connor and go back to the palace.

Was it even really a choice?

I slipped the knife into my belt and headed into the inn. Dying flames in the fireplace glowed across the taproom, which was filled with dozens of lumps of sleeping people. Some snored, while others groaned and huddled into corners. The faint light caught the whites of eyes; a few people watched as I picked my way through the room and toward the stairs. A renewed sense of urgency chased me as I paused at our usual door to listen for voices.

When I pushed the door, the oiled hinges didn’t make a sound. Only a lantern warmed the small, cramped space.

All four of them were sleeping: Connor and Carl on the bed, and Theresa and Kevin on pallets on the floor. How they’d managed to keep the room to themselves, I could only guess, but I was relieved to find they were alone.

I let the door shut with a clunk behind me. At once they were all sitting and reaching for weapons.

“Wil!” Connor abandoned his knife and bounded across the creaky bed, onto the floor, and to me. “You’re all right.” He skidded to a halt and swallowed so hard his throat jumped, then he smiled. He was small for his age, with bony shoulders and sunken cheeks.

“We heard the prince had kidnapped you.” Theresa climbed to her feet and dusted off her trousers. “And that was why Patrick shot him.”

“And we heard that you’re Black Knife and that’s why the prince kidnapped you.” Carl rolled his eyes and twisted his little finger at the rumors. “They’re saying you controlled the wraith and led all the beasts into the city, and you’re responsible for the Inundation.”

“Oh.” I kept my face impassive. “Is that what they’re saying?”

Theresa and Kevin stood, and after hugs, Carl and Connor explained how they’d helped during the Inundation and returned to the city with the residents who’d been forced out by the wraith creatures that had rioted through the streets, killing everything in their paths.

“There was blood everywhere,” Carl said. “And monsters, all dead. We came here and helped clean up to earn our room. Rees went to Laurence’s Bakery a few times to help in trade for food.”

“Have you gotten enough to eat?”

Carl shrugged. “More than some others who aren’t strong enough to earn it. Connor makes us share sometimes.”

Connor glanced downward, but his generosity didn’t surprise me. I squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s bad out there,” Kevin said. “Everyone is hungry. Thirsty. Most people don’t have anywhere safe to sleep. We were lucky. The refugee camps are empty. A few refugees might have sneaked into the city with the returning residents, same as we did, but most kept moving east. They didn’t want to stay here, where it’s so dangerous.”

It was hard to blame them. “All right, we need to go. Connor, at least. The rest of you can follow tomorrow, if you want to stay here the rest of the night.”

“Where?” Connor asked.

“To the palace. That’s where we’re going to stay.”

“Why do you need me right now?” That sounded suspiciously like a whine, but when I frowned, a look of understanding unfolded over his face. “I’ll get my bag.”

The others looked as though they wanted to ask “Why Connor,” too, but they just gathered their belongings instead. While they were busy, I took an envelope off the small desk. It was sealed with red wax and a thumbprint, and the front bore my name in Melanie’s handwriting.

The Ospreys hadn’t noticed her earlier. They’d been sleeping when she’d come to deliver the letter, and even when they’d awakened, none of them had noticed something new in the room. What if it had been dangerous? They could have been hurt, or worse.

But when I looked up to find them watching me, they all wore closed, embarrassed expressions. I stuffed away my need to scold. In the days since the Inundation, I’d been miserable in my pretty cage, but they’d been hungry, and cold, and hurt. While this was an especially dangerous time to be unguarded in the city, I couldn’t blame them for their exhaustion.

“Did a messenger come for you today?” I placed the letter in my pocket and headed into the hall.

“Yes.” Theresa slipped her bag over her shoulder. “Were they really from you?”

I nodded.

“We didn’t know. We couldn’t be sure.”

“Don’t worry, Rees. That’s why I came to get you.”

The five of us moved downstairs silently, picked our way through the dim taproom, and went outside to find a dozen men—police and Indigo Order officers—waiting for us.

Sergeant Ferris stepped forward. “Princess.”

“Oh good. An escort.” I grinned and let my hand drift toward Melanie’s knife, but didn’t draw it. The gesture was merely a reminder. “Send your best people to Fisher’s Mouth in Greenstone. You’ll find Patrick Lien there.”