The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(55)

“There are caverns that way.” One of the men sat next to me and pointed northward. “Black as pitch in there, but if you bring a good light and mirrors, you might have a chance of seeing some amazing structures. You’d think a sculptor went in there first. Air’s so clean, too, it almost hurts to breathe when you come back out.”

“Don’t tell him about that one, Josh,” said another man. “There’s better ones north of Skyvale. Some of the stalagmites are hollow tubes, and you can blow over them like flutes. Those are better.”

Josh threw up his little finger at his friend. “Just trying to show young Will what’s around here. Your singing rocks aren’t anywhere near here, are they?”

“Er.”

I glanced between them, chewing on a last bit of my jerky. I wasn’t much interested in stories about caves.

The caravan stretched into the west, all wood and metal wagons painted with merchants’ colors and examples of their wares. The horses milled around in tiny herds, each group near their designated wagons as they munched on the browning autumn grass. Some of the guards had horses as well; their bridles and clips clang-clanged as they ambled around.

The air was still and crisp and, for once, free of the acrid stench of wraith. Only the odor of people and horses and autumn filled the road, and with the sun slipping past noon, there were few shadows.

One of the shadows moved.

Just a fraction, but movement nonetheless.

I peered harder, tuning out the guards’ voices. The shadow in the trees resolved itself into a black-clad young man. When he lifted a hand in greeting, I rolled my eyes and sat back.

Once the caravan rumbled into motion again, there wasn’t much of a chance to sneak away. A few of the older guards hung back in the forest, making sure no people—or wraith beasts—were following, but as a new and young guard, I wasn’t permitted.

At nightfall, I took first watch, and adjusted my weapons before I climbed a tree.

Moonlight filtered through the canopy of copper leaves, and rained silver-blue on the railroad where the wagons had been removed from the tracks and now waited in formation for morning. The caravan leader and merchants slept in the middle, while off-duty guards dozed on wagon rooftops, their weapons close beside them.

The road was dim. Empty. Only a breeze disturbed the stillness.

“Do you even know how to use that sword?” Black Knife appeared out of the shadows, crouched on a branch above me, one tree over. He was so quiet.

“I know which end to stick where.” I smiled as I scanned the road again. Nothing. Only the faint scent of wraith blew in from the west. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to take a walk. That’s not a crime, is it?”

“You’re the one who decides whether people are criminals.”

“I don’t decide. Other people are the ones going around taking things that aren’t theirs.” When he stood, the tree groaned and a leaf fluttered down, but that was all. He braced himself on a high branch, then maneuvered and stretched until he sat beside me, just a breath of air between us. “So, Will.”

I stiffened. “What did you call me?”

“Will. I heard one of the guards call you Will earlier, but I can go back to calling you ‘nameless girl’ if you prefer.”

My whole body sagged in relief. “Call me whatever you want.”

“Will, then. What are you doing here? Don’t you have important things to take care of elsewhere?”

“I have important things to do here.”

“In a tree? With a merchant caravan?”

I shrugged.

“Wraithland.” His tone was low. Dry.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to the wraithland.”

Wind gusted through the trees. At the acrid stench that followed, both of us stilled and our eyes met. “Do you hear anything?” His whisper was so soft I almost didn’t hear him.

We listened, waiting, but night birds chirped and nocturnal animals skittered through the trees. A wolf howled in the distance. After a few minutes, we relaxed.

“Don’t go to the wraithland,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

I smirked. “Why, Black Knife. You almost sound worried.”

He seized my hands; the leather of his gloves was cool against my skin, and I could hear the faint rasp of his breath as he drew me closer. “Don’t go. Come back to the city with me.”

I leaned away. “I must go.” I hesitated, but pushed out the words in pale gasps. “You know what I did to that man. You know what I am.” Since the One-Night War, I’d never said even that much aloud. Even hinting at my ability would draw unwanted attention—like Black Knife’s—and here I was, laying myself bare. “I have to see what’s out there, what it means. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Have you been there? Do you know what it’s like?”

“Just the stories.” The admission sounded like defeat. “Maybe a few more stories than most, but no firsthand experience.”

“What kind of stories?” An owl hooted, filling my pause. “There’s a secret out there.”

He raised his eyes to the sky and drew in a breath. “What are you looking for?”

Could I trust him? Probably not. He called me dangerous, but he was just as much of a threat. Still . . . “I saw a map, which made it very clear there’s something hidden out there, and I want to know the truth.”