The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(79)

The chamber was achingly quiet as Tobiah gazed across the crowd. Our eyes met, held for a moment, and he moved on.

“It is my greatest regret,” he said, “to inform you of a murder. An assassination.” His voice grew heavy, and cracked. “My father, His Majesty Terrell the Fourth, House of the Dragon, Sovereign of the Indigo Kingdom, is dead.

“Be reassured that the Indigo Order and the police are on full alert and are investigating every lead and scenario. No arrests have been made yet, but a list of suspects is being compiled. Please return to your apartments or homes this morning. Palace staff will be permitted in the halls, once they’ve been questioned, and all of you will receive meals in your rooms today. All events and festivities for this month have been canceled.”





TWENTY-NINE


THE LORDS AND ladies of Skyvale Palace were sent back to their rooms, like children who’d only be in their parents’ way if they stayed.

Breakfast was served late, and in spite of the lockdown, rumors still managed to spread from room to room. Black Knife had killed the king; the prince had murdered his father; one of the royal guards had too much to drink and lost control while demonstrating a sword technique. The rumors were wild and frightening, and so was a deep part of me that looked on this development with a sense of wonder.

King Terrell was responsible for my parents’ deaths. They’d been slaughtered by his men, there in the courtyard, their blood spilled across the cobblestones. And everyone just watched, too frightened to take a stand.

I remembered catching Prince Tobiah’s eye then, the fear and pity in them. “Don’t look,” he’d mouthed, but it was too late.

I’d already seen.

They were already dead.

“I can’t believe it.” Melanie dropped to the sofa and took a book from an end table. “Murdered. Not just dead from whatever sickness he had.”

I wanted to feel something more, some sense of amusement of the irony, like Melanie did, or relief at the idea of King Terrell finally leaving this world, after he’d plagued mine for so long. But all I could summon was this strange sense of pity, like whatever Tobiah must have felt when he urged me not to look at my parents’ bodies. Though my parents’ men had kidnapped Tobiah, he’d still tried to comfort me when they died. Now, our positions were reversed.

A little after lunch, I rang the servant bell and asked to speak with Tobiah.

“He’s part of the investigating team,” said the maid. “He’s coming to everyone’s rooms personally.”

I thanked her and shut the door.

While Melanie read aloud from a book describing the One-Night War and King Terrell’s part in it, I checked that all of our Osprey things were in hiding places we’d agreed on. Everything was in secret compartments, beneath mattresses, and inside little-worn gowns. Papers, notebooks, map—

“Mel?”

“Yes?” She was still in the sitting room, lounging on the sofa.

“Where is the map?” It wasn’t with the rest of the papers or shoved between the drawings I’d been working on as part of our disguise.

The book thumped to the sofa cushion, and a moment later, Melanie stood in my doorway. “I gave it to Patrick while you were gone. It was finished.”

I touched the faded bruise on my cheek and met her eyes.

“No,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t.”

“It wasn’t long ago we’d have said he would never hit any of us in anger, either.”

“No,” she whispered again. “He wouldn’t.”

“We have no proof, obviously. But we need to speak with him tonight.”

She shook her head. “I will. Alone.”

“That night we went together, he wanted me to kill someone, remember?”

“But not the king!”

“We don’t know who it was. He wouldn’t tell us after I said no.”

“Let me ask before we start accusing.”

I nodded. “Find out what you can.” Black Knife had wanted to meet me tonight, and while I wasn’t going to tell him about Patrick, he would certainly be interested in the king’s assassination. Maybe I could learn something from him. Or help him. Or . . . I wasn’t sure.

Being here in the palace was confusing my feelings and goals. This wasn’t my home. I had no reason to care that the king was dead—I should rejoice—but I couldn’t help but remember how he’d wanted so badly to improve his kingdom. He wanted the best for everyone. Maybe even me.

A knock came at the sitting room door just as I was hiding Black Knife’s gifts under my mattress. I opened the door to admit Crown Prince Tobiah, James, General Fredrick, and a handful of other men in Indigo Order uniforms. Bodyguards, no doubt. Both the king’s and the prince’s.

“Your Highness.” I curtsied low, that strange sense of pity gnawing on my heart as I invited him to sit. He took a place at the table and laid out a few sheets of paper. James and the general sat to either side of him, while the rest of the guards took up posts around the room, their hands behind their backs, and their expressions as hard as stone. “My deepest condolences. Losing a beloved parent is one of the worst things in the world. I’m sorry you must endure this now.”

I was sorry. Having seen him with his father, having witnessed their strained argument last night—it was easy to see they’d loved each other.