The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(12)

“So you hunt for him?”

The guard nodded. “When we can, or whenever there’s a rash of mimics. Skyvale is so big that we usually have to focus our attention elsewhere. But don’t worry: Black Knife is almost never spotted in the districts where you’ll be staying.”

“Thank you.” Maybe I could catch him—once I infiltrated the palace, found the resistance fighters in Aecor, rescued the Aecorian men in the wraithlands, and took back my kingdom. Or maybe somewhere in between all of that. The reward was sizable, and the coming war would have to be funded somehow.

I turned my attention toward Skyvale, watching for the carriage.

We didn’t wait long. Once the carriage arrived, indigo with the Pierce crest emblazoned on the side, Melanie and I made a show of thanking Patrick and Oscar for their kindness and assistance.

“This way, my ladies.” The soldiers helped us into the carriage and stowed our bags on the opposite bench. “You’re being taken to an immediate audience with King Terrell and Crown Prince Tobiah. Tell them your story. The driver will give your papers to the secretary. They’ll know what to do with you.”

Tobiah.

“Thank you.” Melanie slumped into the cushions as the carriage door shut and latched. In the dimness, she gave me a secret smile. “We’re really doing this.” Her voice was low and didn’t carry.

I tried to smile back, but my thoughts whirred.

I was going to see Tobiah. Of course it was inevitable. The mission called for me to live in the palace, the same one where the crown prince lived. But seeing him this soon? Immediately?

He’d be eighteen by now, learning from his father. It made sense he’d be there. After ten years, would he recognize me? Surely not.

“Ew.” Melanie wrinkled her nose as one of White Flag’s more pungent odors pressed through the carriage, even with the heavy wool curtains closed. The clatter of wheels and horse hooves beat a headache behind my eyes, and nothing, not even the throbbing in my head, covered the din of shouts and people banging on pots or walls or one another.

What was I getting into? This had seemed like a good idea months ago when Patrick announced it. Now—now I was going to have to face the man who’d destroyed my kingdom, and the boy who was the reason.

Gradually, the sounds and smells shifted to boys calling out the latest wraith news and Black Knife sightings, and meats roasting and bread baking. My stomach growled; we’d eaten a small breakfast, but hadn’t paused for lunch or even a snack on the way here.

Even so, I’d had more than those refugees outside the city.

“We must be getting into Thornton,” Melanie said.

“Need anything while we’re here?” It was a weak joke. Thornton was the high-class district of Skyvale with several sizable markets, and where we did most of our work. The Flags—Black Flag, White Flag, and Red Flag—were easier and less guarded, but it seemed impolite to steal from other poor people.

Several minutes later, a shadow fell over the windows and the carriage stopped. We’d reached the enormous wall separating Hawksbill and the King’s Seat from the rest of the city. After a few moments of men’s voices at the driver’s box, a guard swung open the door.

My stomach dropped. They’d caught us already.

But the guard only checked inside our bags and underneath the benches, then ducked out, all without saying a word. My head buzzed with uncomfortable energy, and the dagger at my back pressed hard into my spine.

With a rattle, the carriage burst into motion once more. Voices of servants and nobles and guards calling cadence rose above the noise of our vehicle. Cathedral bells pealed in the distance. Every moment brought us closer to Skyvale Palace.

We’d meet King Terrell.

I’d see the prince.

“Are you all right?” Melanie touched my arm. “You look nervous.”

I twitched a smile. “I do not.”

“Only to your best friend.” She kept her voice low. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t tell her the whole truth, but she deserved something. “This mission is so important. We need people in Aecor to fight for us when we return. If we can’t find the resistance groups, or we can’t protect them—”

“I understand.” Melanie kept my gaze for a moment. “We’ll do this. We’ve been training and studying for months. We’re as prepared as we can be.”

“It’s the things we aren’t prepared for that I’m worried about.”

“Say it again,” she muttered.

Shortly, we were deposited at a side entrance to the palace. “So no one gawks at you before you’ve had time to adjust,” explained the driver, all haste to soothe potential offense. He passed us off to a valet, who clutched the envelope with our residency documents, and not very carefully. All our hard work, crushed beneath clumsy hands.

I maintained an expression between weary refugee, aloof nobility, and awe for the palace’s magnificence.

And it was a magnificent palace, with gilded friezes and marbled floors. Heavy rugs ran the length of the hall, all blue and gold and patterned with geometric figures. Copper-and-glass oil lamps hung on the walls every several paces. The palace would never be dark.

Uniformed men kept guard over staterooms and studies, while a handful of lords and ladies made their way through the palace. Some glanced at us, but most hardly seemed to notice our presence.