The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(42)

I lit a few more candles and checked that the window shutters were fastened, then took my perch on the windowsill. Theresa looked stricken as Connor scurried over to stand beside me. His curly hair was too long, and rumpled from sleep. Red splotched his face.

“Hey,” I murmured, slipping him the folded letter I’d written earlier. It seemed so pointless now. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head, and his voice was rough with threatening tears. “Patrick said not to say anything until he was ready.”

Because only Patrick got to make announcements.

I pressed my hand onto his bony shoulder, the only measure of comfort I could offer now.

Melanie and I exchanged glances as she dropped to the bed beside Theresa. Before, they’d looked as though they could be sisters, with their lean bodies hardened from work and a constant hunger that was never sated. Now, the difference between them was startling. Melanie’s skin was clean of the ever-present grime that covered the Ospreys, and her face and arms were filling out, thanks to regular meals. In contrast, Theresa’s collarbone stood sharp and shelflike.

We waited in tense silence while Patrick flipped pages and sighed. Finally, he pushed the report away and looked from Melanie to me, disappointment clear in his expression. “That’s it? You didn’t find anything about the resistance groups?”

My stomach dropped. In my annoyance over the summons and catching Black Knife spying on me, I’d forgotten that I changed the report.

“What?” Melanie surged up from the bed, shock written on her face. “We did find the resistance groups. Rather, I did.”

Everyone stared at me. Seconds stretched.

“What did you do?” Melanie grabbed for the paper. Her mouth hung open as she skimmed through the letter written in her handwriting. The pages fluttered to the ground. “Wilhelmina. Did you change my report?”

I lifted my chin. “Yes.” There was no denying it, and trying to explain would accomplish nothing. It would make me look weak. Heart hammering, I faced Patrick. “I wasn’t ready for you to know about the groups.”

“You thought I wouldn’t find out?” His face showed no trace of his emotions, but his eyes revealed the calculated way he studied and reevaluated me.

“I knew you would find out.” I slipped off the windowsill and linked my hands behind my back. “I’ve even done all the work to ensure the Indigo Kingdom will no longer pursue them.”

“So you simply didn’t want me to know.” He stood. “It isn’t your decision whether to withhold information. If I’m to resurrect Aecor—”

“I do get to decide.” My voice trembled, but only just. “I do get to decide, because I’m going to be queen. Aecor is my kingdom.”

Patrick turned to Melanie. “Do you have the list?” He was so calm, as though I hadn’t just betrayed him, betrayed Melanie, and betrayed the Ospreys.

“Not with me. I’ll include it in the next drop.” Her shoulders were tense, and her voice tight. Normally, she was one of the best at disguising her feelings, but around Patrick, she was transparent. She worshipped him. They all did. And I . . . I wasn’t sure what I’d just done.

He was angry. He wouldn’t show it, but there was a hardness about him. More hardness than usual.

I put aside that worry for now, but didn’t relax my posture. “What is the news you mentioned earlier?”

Patrick leveled his gaze on me. “Later. I have further instructions for you regarding your time in the palace.”

Further instructions? Did he not hear me say that I was going to be queen? Not him?

“I want you to kill—”

“No.” There was so much force behind the word that I hardly recognized my own voice. “I will not kill anyone. I’ve told you before: Ospreys are not murderers.”

The room was silent again. Connor was back on the bed, sitting close to Theresa, who just looked on with red eyes.

“I will be Queen of Aecor. Infiltrating Skyvale Palace is one thing. Because of what Melanie and I have done there, Aecorian soldiers will be returned to their families. Resistance groups will be safe while the Indigo Army searches incorrect locations.”

Patrick’s stare was piercing. “You’ve done well. But that does not mean your work is finished.”

No, it wasn’t finished. Not even close.

“I won’t kill anyone.”

Patrick bowed his head. “I can see you will not.” He stepped forward, his voice low and clipped and menacing. “But before you decide you no longer need my help, I want you to remember who freed you all from the orphanage nine years ago. When we return to Aecor and you sit on the vermilion throne, who will fight the war to keep you there?”

My jaw ached from clenching it.

“I will fight your war, Wilhelmina, just as I swore to you years ago. And if you are as wise as you think you are, you’ll take me as your king so that Aecor will have at least one strong leader.”

What?

He stood before me, his eyes level with mine. “One true heir, lost in the heat of the One-Night War. A queen risen again. The kind of triumphant return that shines in the history books. And at her side, a hero of the Aecorian Revolution.”

“You will not be my king.”

His eyes narrowed. On the bed, Theresa and Connor held deathly still.