The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(51)

“I will believe you. Tell me.”

“It’s just a rumor,” said the boy. “I didn’t see it.”

“Take me to someone who did.”

The guards led me to a nearby tent with a goat tethered outside. One man darted inside, and I caught the edges of his whisper. “Black Knife is here. He’s going to stop the wraith. He’s going to save us all.”

I entered the small space, which was lit with a few candle stubs. Next to the guard who’d shown me in, a woman sat amid a mountain of blankets. Though she appeared young enough to be my mother, she was hunched, as if she’d hurt her back, or had carried heavy loads for many years. Her expression was grim, with traces of kindness. “Black Knife.”

I stepped away from the shelter’s door and assumed Black Knife’s posture. Shoulders back, feet hip-width apart, arms over my chest.

“You want to know what I saw.”

“Every detail.”

“I was forbidden from speaking of it.”

“By whom?”

“The Liadian king. His men.”

“They’re dead now. Tell me.”

She offered a slight bow. “Before the wraith hit, I was a maid in a lord’s country home. Everyone was talking about those barriers like they were the answer, but I knew the truth. The supposed alchemists the king hired to build the barriers were all flashers taken from their homes and put to work pouring magical energy into the walls. I was one of them. But”—she held up her hands, as though trying to appease me—“I don’t use magic now. What use is making myself float? I did only what my king ordered. I could not refuse.”

She could have refused, but he might have had her killed for it.

“What happened then?” I asked.

She lowered her hands. “When the walls were finished, we were sent home. The magic barrier seemed to work for a time, but eventually, the wraith broke through. People were angry. Afraid. Many fled immediately, but some of us were trapped by the very barriers we’d helped create. From the house where I was trapped, I watched the wraith break through the walls. Pieces flew into the nearby lake. It was called Mirror Lake.”

There were probably a hundred lakes called that. It didn’t mean anything. “The lake with the pieces of the barrier is the source of the rumors?”

“Yes.” She slumped deeper into her blankets. “I saw the water erupt. It cleaned the wraith right out of the surrounding land. That’s everything I remember.”

The guard cleared his throat. “I heard that the light of another world shines through the lake now. Others have said the water boils all year around, or the water sucks in the wraith every night so the surrounding land is clean.”

“I see. Is that all?”

They plied me with a few more nonsense rumors before I left the tent and refugee camp. When I was sure no one was watching, I climbed over the city wall and made my way through the Flags.

By the time I reached Thornton, the eastern horizon had turned purple and the silhouettes of mountains were just visible. I had to hurry back to the palace, but first, I needed to grab a few supplies.

I stopped in quiet shops, lifting a sleeping roll and sturdy breeches and bags of dried travel rations. I was out of the area just as the clock tower chimed five and owners began making their way toward their businesses.

Hawksbill was trickier, with maids and servants awake to prepare for the day, but the deep gold rays of dawn left pockets of shadow. I stayed to those, ascending to my palace balcony just as light broke over it. I slipped into the room and let all my new belongings fall to the floor as I staggered into bed. Everything I’d learned tonight spun in my head, even as tension eased from my body and I fell closer to sleep.

No wonder the prince’s wraith mitigation committee wanted to keep that place on the map confidential.

Liadia had broken the Wraith Alliance, but did anyone even know what the results were, let alone what they meant?

It seemed no one was interested enough to find out.

No one but me.





EIGHTEEN


PALACE SOCIAL LIFE kept me engaged most days, but a few times I managed to disguise myself and sneak into the city to secure travel aboard a caravan to West Pass Watch. But for my plan to succeed, I needed Melanie’s help.

It had been a week that we’d been avoiding each other since the incident in the Peacock Inn, and I’d seen only traces of Melanie’s existence: food eaten, notes lying on the table, invitations sorted. Once, we’d run into each other in the sitting room and stared as though we were strangers, until we awkwardly edged around the perimeter and went opposite ways.

I couldn’t let that happen now. I had to catch her. I had to speak with her.

With twenty minutes until a maid came to finish preparing us for dinner—one we both had to attend—I sneaked into her room and waited.

“We need to talk,” I said as she pushed opened the bedroom door.

Her room was half the size of mine, dominated by a large canopied bed and wardrobe. Light streamed in through the window, reflecting in a handful of mirrors. Melanie crossed the room quickly and sat on her bed.

She pushed aside a few books about the origins of the Houses and didn’t once make eye contact with me. “I’ve already had the drop location changed.” Her tone was stiff.