The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(57)

“Oh.”

“It used to be a longer journey, and the Indigo Kingdom passed them off to Liadia and kingdoms beyond in order to reach their punishment. Now it takes just a few days to reach the wraithland. They’re deposited at West Pass Watch and sent in along with glowmen.”

I balled my hands into fists and squeezed my eyes shut.

“They can’t use their magic to escape because they’re given an injection. It keeps them barely conscious, unable to focus enough to use their power.”

And when they were delivered to the wraithland, the glowmen would tear them apart. The beasts would devour them. The air would suffocate them.

“I wish I hadn’t investigated. It was easier not knowing.” He shivered, and he sounded—upset? Hurt? Confused?

“Are you still capturing flashers?”

“No,” he whispered. “I haven’t been. It’s why I couldn’t take you in that night, and why I wanted you with me after.”

“Even though the man—”

He nodded, shifting toward me, and our shoulders brushed. “Even though.”

His shoulder against mine was a faint, barely there warmth. I didn’t move away. “Why are you here?” I asked.

“I like sitting in trees.” There was tension in his voice, and weariness.

“Admit it.” I leaned away from him, keeping my tone hard as our eyes locked. “You’re following me.”

He laughed and ducked his face. “Very well. I’m following you.”

“Why?”

“You keep getting away from me. That never happens.”

“I don’t think you’re even trying to catch me anymore.”

His chuckle came again, warm and muffled, but real enough that something inside me melted. “I’m still trying,” he said.

“And as part of this never-ending quest, are you going to follow me into the wraithland?”

His posture shifted—shoulders down and slightly turned—and he glanced west, as though conflicted. “I can’t.”

Disappointment rippled through me. I hadn’t realized I’d hoped he would come along. So we could argue more? Fight? “You have important things to do in Skyvale. Thieves to catch. Wraith beasts to kill. I know.” And what else? Who was he when he wasn’t Black Knife? “The caravan is scheduled to stay at West Pass Watch for two weeks. That gives me a week to get to the lake, and a week to get back. I’ll return to Skyvale the same way I left: as a guard.”

“It’s probably the first honest work you’ve done.”

“It’s not completely honest. Where do you think I got this sword?”

“Will.” He dropped back his head in exasperation, and a tiny sliver of his throat peeked between his shirt collar and mask. “Well, you’d better come back alive, and in your right mind, because when you do, I’ll be waiting for you.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “To arrest me?”

“No. To—” He hesitated. As soft as a breath, he closed his hand over my arm. “To welcome you home.”

Trees shivered in the wind, sending spirals of leaves hissing downward. I looked at his gloved hand, unmoving over my sleeve. Why was he touching me like that? What was he thinking? He’d followed me out here from Skyvale and now . . .

I held very still so that he would, too. “Skyvale isn’t my home.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll wait for you anyway.” He squeezed my arm, just lightly, and withdrew. “Please be careful—”

A shriek and howl interrupted him. Screams sounded from the caravan. Without another word to Black Knife, I leapt to the ground and ran.





TWENTY


I RACED THROUGH the narrow stretch of forest separating my post from the road.

Already, torches illuminated the clearing. Sleeping guards rolled off the rooftops, and inside the barricade created by the wagons, people shouted and cried out in terror. The reek of smoke and wraith flooded the area, chased by the metallic tang of blood.

Nausea tumbled through me as I drew my sword. It was a strange, heavy weight, and not as comfortable in my grip as my daggers, but it had a better reach.

“Where is it?” Black Knife stopped next to me, breathing hard. His sword was already out, a natural extension of his arm.

“I don’t—”

A terrible click-clack and shriek came from the far side of the caravan. We both ran toward the sound, following the other guards.

An enormous scorpion—as big as a wagon—scuttled down the road, pincers clacking as men surged toward it.

Black Knife swore and charged the beast, and only then did I notice the most terrifying part of all: chains around the scorpion’s head, pincers, and tail. Chains that had snapped and were now dangling like jewelry.

From the chaos, glowmen emerged. They carried the broken ends of chains, torches, and long staffs that they must have used to prod the beast into the Indigo Kingdom.

I drew my dagger in my left hand and hurled myself into battle.

Most of the men concentrated on the scorpion; it was heading straight for the wagons.

I focused my efforts on the glowmen, the grotesque wraith-mutated men. There were five of them. No, ten or twelve. They emerged from the forest with shouts of rage.