The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(13)

Even indoors where they’d do no good against the wraith, there were glass mirrors on every west-facing surface. We turned a corner and I caught my reflection. My face was thin and hard, smudged with dirt and sweat. The coronet I’d braided my hair into was oily and dusty. Brown strands hung loose in places, as though I’d been running. Melanie, with her pale brown skin and black hair, looked the same. We looked horrible, and hungry.

We looked like refugees.

“This way, Lady Julianna, Lady Melanie.” The valet gestured toward a heavy oak door, which stood open for our arrival. “His Majesty and His Highness will see you now.”

“Thank you.” My voice came out raspier than I’d realized it might. Nerves crowded in my throat, and my whole body was shaking.

In moments, I’d see the man who was responsible for my parents’ deaths. For my kingdom’s destruction. For my stolen childhood.

In moments, I’d be in the same room with the man I hated most in the world, and I’d have to pretend he was my rescuer.

When the herald announced us, Melanie and I entered the king’s office.

The room was well lit with the windows thrown wide. Four men with Indigo Order uniforms stood around the perimeter, their expressions blank. Bodyguards. A middle-aged man in blue livery sat in the corner, writing at a tiny desk.

The king sat behind a massive desk, and a young man stood beside him.

My breath caught. Tobiah.

“This way,” said the valet, beckoning us toward the crowded end of the room. He handed our papers to the secretary, and then exited.

The herald cleared his throat. “His Majesty Terrell Pierce the Fourth, House of the Dragon, Sovereign of the Indigo Kingdom, and his son, Crown Prince Tobiah Pierce, House of the Dragon, Heir to the Indigo Kingdom.”

My feet moved. I walked. But I couldn’t look away from Tobiah. His eyes were lowered toward something on his father’s desk. He kept his hands behind his back as he nodded and murmured, and then both the prince and his father looked up.

King Terrell’s smile flashed in my peripheral vision, but it was Tobiah’s dark gaze that held me.

He cocked his head and glanced from me to Melanie and back. There was something in his eyes—surely not recognition. It had been almost ten years since the One-Night War, and I was a different person now.

The crown prince said nothing, though, offering only a slight nod and cautious smile.

He had no idea who I was. No idea that—because of him—my life was in ruins. And here he was with his palace and father and perfect life. Like the One-Night War had never happened.

I pushed down those thoughts. I needed to work.

“Forgive me for not standing to greet you.” King Terrell motioned to a pair of chairs in front of his desk. “Please sit. You must be exhausted.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The words slipped from me without thought, as though I’d never left my own father’s palace. My childhood of court manners hadn’t disappeared, even after ten years.

Servants held the cushioned chairs for us, then vanished.

“Lady Julianna. Lady Melanie.” King Terrell offered a grim smile. “I’m sorry that you’ve been forced from your home, and that there was nothing more the Indigo Kingdom could do for Liadia. But I rejoice in your presence here. We’d been informed that there were no more survivors. I couldn’t be more glad for incorrect intelligence.”

We both thanked him again.

“Tell me,” said the crown prince. “Why did no one in Liadia evacuate? Everyone knew the wraith was coming, surely.”

Was that a test? Could he suspect?

I repeated the information I’d learned from refugees. “Of course everyone knew that the wraith was coming.” I bit back more venom. A little indignity at his question would be natural for Julianna, but lashing out at Tobiah was unwise. I softened my tone. “Of course everyone knew. For months before the wraith arrived, the weather grew more intense. Winter was colder. Summer was hotter. On clear nights, we could see the glow of wraith on the western horizon.”

The room was so, so quiet.

“We knew it was coming. And so, the royal scholars and philosophers studied and tested and worked until they announced they had found a way to protect the kingdom. Because he trusted their efforts, His Majesty promised safety for the kingdom, but many didn’t believe. They left anyway, so martial law was declared, and borders were closed to keep more people from fleeing.” I let my voice sink. “As you already know, the barrier erected did little to halt the wraith.”

Seconds ticked by on the large clock on the king’s desk, and the prince gazed downward, studying his father. I urged myself to sink deeper into the Julianna Whitman persona. I’d been over her stories. I’d practiced her mannerisms. Wilhelmina Korte’s feelings didn’t matter right now.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about your journey here?” King Terrell’s voice was weak. Raspy. “An account of the state of the wraithland would be useful in our own efforts to mitigate its effects.”

I tore my gaze from the prince and focused on his father. Both men were tall and slender, with dark hair and eyes, but the similarities ended there.

The king’s face was sunken in, and dark hollows had carved permanent places around his eyes. He was too young to have such wrinkles.

King Terrell was sick, probably had been sick for some time. And he wasn’t getting better.