The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(16)

“Yes. Looks like he has been for a while, but I haven’t heard much talk about it. Have you?”

“Nothing.” Which seemed strange, but perhaps his decline had been so gradual no one noticed. Perhaps they thought he was simply growing old.

“This is a good start on the map.”

I corked the ink and wiped the nib clean using a damp cloth. “There’s a long way to go, but it’s unlikely we’ll find palace plans just lying around. We’ll take a walk tomorrow and get a better sense of the layout.”

“And then that ball. Perhaps Tobiah will be there.” Melanie smiled slyly as she placed our dishes on a tray. “I saw the way he watched you.”

So I hadn’t imagined his look.

He hadn’t recognized me. He couldn’t have. As far as Tobiah knew, Princess Wilhelmina Korte had vanished years ago. It was unlikely he’d ever thought of me since that night. Perhaps he’d thought me familiar and was trying to place me. I’d just have to give him every reason to believe I was only Lady Julianna Whitman, a duchess from a wraith-fallen kingdom.

I wished I could avoid him altogether.

“I’m sure he will be at the ball. Quinn would be so jealous.”

“It’s strange that Chey is hosting Meredith’s engagement ball,” I said.

“Why? They seem to be friends.”

I laid the mapping pens back in the writing box and found one more suitable for writing letters. “But Chey is only a countess. Maybe Meredith is marrying down and it’s embarrassing.”

Melanie snorted. “Regardless, they’re our way into society. Try to be polite.”

“I’m always polite.”

“You’re always eyeing people’s valuables. That’s hardly polite.”

As evening fell, our discussion moved toward the contents of our first written report to Patrick, and the possible routes we’d take to the bakery, now that we knew our position in the palace.

There wasn’t much to write, but we added a few lines about our treatment so far, the upcoming ball, and the king’s deteriorating health.

“It seems like a pointless risk to send a report on the first night.” I fanned the paper, giving the ink a moment to dry before I folded it in thirds.

“I agree, but Patrick insists. A report every three days or he storms the palace because he thinks we’ve been discovered.” Melanie rolled her eyes and dipped a blot of blue wax onto the edge. I pressed my thumb into the cooling blob, sealing the report with my print. Not that it would look any different from Melanie’s, but again, Patrick insisted, and I didn’t care enough to fight about it.

“I should go the first few times.” Melanie laid her fingertips on the edge of the report. “My absence will be less suspicious if someone comes looking for you.”

My hand was still on the letter. “This is a stupid risk.”

“But you’ll let me do it?” She raised an eyebrow.

I released the paper, and as soon as lights began vanishing across the city, she slipped out the window.


The next day, Melanie didn’t emerge from her bedroom until noon. So much for taking a walk through the palace to expand our map. “You were out late last night,” I said, not lowering the book I’d been reading. The Fall of Magic in the Indigo Kingdom had kept me company most of the morning.

“Just long enough to stick the report behind the loose brick, as ordered. Patrick left a few items for us: spare ropes and hooks, dark clothes, and a few small knives. I’ve hidden all the things that need hiding.” She sat at the table where lunch had already cooled and began filling her plate with bread and slices of chicken and ham and cheese. “You were sleeping when I got back.”

But I’d waited for two hours before I stepped onto the balcony, worrying that maybe I should go after her. We’d worked in the city countless times, though mostly together. So what could have kept her?

I could still feel the glass chill my palm as I pushed open the balcony door, still feel the frigid wind as I scanned the courtyards and gardens for signs of Melanie.

Just as I was about to climb over the balcony rail and hunt for her, a shadow on a lower balcony stayed me. Someone else had been staring down at the city. With the streetlamps below, the figure was only a silhouette.

But he’d looked up, right at me.

Shivering, I’d lifted my hand. He’d waved back, then leaned his hips on the balcony rail and watched the city.

I’d come inside. Maybe Melanie hadn’t been able to get back in because of him, either.

“Did you see someone on another balcony last night?” I asked.

Melanie was chewing, but she shook her head. After an exaggerated swallow, she gulped down some wine and said, “No, everything was quiet. I didn’t even see your friend Black Knife.”

“You know you’re my only friend.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the Ospreys.”

My grin disappeared when someone knocked on the door. I stood to answer, but Melanie was faster.

Unease smoldered in the back of my thoughts as a maid bustled in, carrying long, paper-wrapped parcels and a wooden box. “Lady Meredith sends her regards, along with these gowns for tonight’s ball. We’ll have to alter them quickly to fit you, but we’ll make do. Lady Chey ordered a carriage for you; it will arrive with the others this evening.”