The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(43)

“You will be my general. My adviser. Perhaps even my friend. But never my king.”

Drunks shouted downstairs. Wind howled outside. Dogs barked in the distance. But the room was an island of tense, smothering silence.

I stood my ground, my jaw clenched so tight it ached.

Patrick’s expression remained hard. “We shall see, Wilhelmina.”

The rustle of paper broke our stare. Connor was looking at the note I’d written for him.

“Tell me why you summoned us here tonight.” I motioned at Theresa and Connor. “Why have they been crying?”

“They were the ones who wanted you here for the news.” Patrick held himself straighter, as though he’d won. “I’ve received word from Ronald regarding the supply caravan mission.”

“Quinn’s assignment.” The words were a breath.

“The mission was a success. The supplies have been captured and hidden.” Patrick’s tone betrayed no emotion. “Unfortunately, Quinn and Ezra are dead.”





FIFTEEN


“WHAT DO YOU mean they’re dead?” The words sounded hollow in the small room. Cold crept through the cracks around the window, hardening me. Connor and Theresa both looked at their folded hands.

Patrick heaved a sigh as he rifled through a stack of papers. “Here’s Ronald’s report.”

I snatched it from his hand and moved toward a candle to read. Ezra had been caught stealing supplies, Quinn had run to help, and they had both been killed. Ronald had seen everything from his station, and though he’d tried to save them, he’d been too late. The siblings had already been stabbed through their guts by the time he arrived, and he’d needed to pretend he didn’t care about what happened—that he was part of the caravan guards. . . .

The paper fluttered to the floor as I turned my glare on Patrick. “You did this. You sent them on that mission. I told you it was too dangerous, and you sent them anyway.”

“We all take risks—”

“Yes, I know. ‘Everything we do is a calculated risk.’ Start calculating better, Patrick. We don’t have many Ospreys left.”

Patrick straightened. “We will need those supplies, and we couldn’t let the Indigo Army have them.”

“No!” I banged my fist on the desk. “This was a stupid risk for a few supplies the Indigo Army will barely miss. You should have let them take the supplies to Aecor and had our contacts already there steal them. There are a hundred different things you could have done instead—”

He turned on his heel and left the room. The door slammed behind him.

Melanie folded her arms across her chest, her shoulders hunched over. “Great. Are you happy? You’ve hurt him.”

My jaw clenched around the words. “Meanwhile, Quinn and Ezra are dead. Somehow, Patrick’s feelings aren’t that important to me. And you! You voted with him. You’re both responsible.”

Her eyes went wide, as though I’d hit her, and she spun and left the room after Patrick.

My heart ached with her betrayal, but I forced myself to stand tall. Theresa and Connor were still here, both of them sitting on the bed and making themselves small.

I took a long breath and let my posture soften. “I’m sorry, Rees. Connor.”

Theresa lifted her eyes. “Do you think this is worth it? Is reclaiming the kingdom worth this kind of life?”

I didn’t know what to say—if there was anything to say. I wasn’t good at comforting others, even when I wanted to try. We’d all seen too much death to believe the pain would ever go away, to believe that these emotional wounds would ever heal. No, for us, there was only revenge.

“We’ll make it up to them, Rees.” My words tasted sour. Quinn and Ezra were dead. How could I make up for that kind of sacrifice? It wasn’t as if they’d know we succeeded one day. I couldn’t bring them back and give them the life they deserved. “When we take back Aecor, memorials will be built in their honor. There will be weeks of mourning. Annual days of remembrance. We won’t forget them, just like we haven’t forgotten the others.”

“Maybe if I’d gone with them—” Connor bit his lip. “I could have done something to help.”

“No.” I squeezed his shoulder, trying not to imagine what could have happened if he’d gone, too.

“He was my best friend.”

“I know he was.” Fiercely, I hugged Theresa and Connor. I hated to leave them, but Melanie’s voice sounded outside the door—she was talking to Patrick—and I didn’t want to be here when they returned. I couldn’t look at Patrick right now.

With a whispered good-bye, I threw myself out the inn window and took to the rooftops.

My heart and soul and mind grew numb as I wandered through the night. Aimless. Rooftop to rooftop. Quinn and Ezra were dead.

Dead.

Because Patrick had sent them on a mission I’d known they couldn’t handle. I’d backed off because of the stupid vote, but I should have pushed. I should have insisted Patrick wait, or send someone more experienced, or not try at all.

I should have protected them.

They must have been so terrified as the guards swung down their swords. As the pain cut hot and deep and then stopped hurting altogether. As they held each other in their last moments.