The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(84)

“I found your drawings.”

I picked dirt from under my fingernails.

“As well as pages and pages of nonsense writing in different hands. Signatures written over and over. Forgery practice, I assume. So you could learn their handwriting. What were you doing with that? Which one is yours?”

“You’re a very determined young man, James Rayner.”

James ran through his questions again, pressing harder this time, so I stopped speaking altogether. I returned to my bench, propped my feet up as before, and covered my chest with my arms.

James’s shadow vanished from my cell. “She won’t speak.” His voice was low, distant. “Except with sarcasm. She’s a completely different girl.”

“That’s what I expected.” The other voice faded before I could tell who it was. A general? The prince? The men were leaving the dungeon.

I closed my eyes and sat in silence, only the drip drip drip for company. Desperately, I wanted to be hard. I wanted to be the girl I’d shown James just now—strong, sarcastic, and uncrackable.

But the bruises throbbed and, alone now, my mind took me back to the street in Hawksbill, soldiers all around. My wrists bound. Fingers digging into my flesh.

My stomach turned over again, but there was nothing left to throw up. I took long, deep breaths to clear the taste of bile from my tongue. My hands itched for my notebook and a good pen; writing had always calmed me.

A new shadow fell in front of the torch, blocking the glare from my eyes. “I don’t think you killed my father.”

“That makes you smarter than everyone in the Indigo Order.”

Keys jangled and the bars squealed open. Boots crunched rat droppings and a moment later, the crown prince sat on the bench next to my toes. “Please don’t try to escape. There are guards in the hall.”

I cracked open one eye. “How many?”

“Five.”

“That wouldn’t be enough to stop me.”

Exhaustion lined the prince’s face, and red rimmed his eyes, but he studied me and nodded. “You strike me as a dangerous person, my lady.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

Drip drip drip.

“If your name isn’t Julianna, what shall I call you?”

“Everyone is so interested in naming me.” I slipped my feet off the side of the bench and sat straight.

The prince didn’t flinch at my sudden movement. He sat, half trapped in misery, and I knew too well how he felt. Lost. Confused. Betrayed.

“I wasn’t lying yesterday,” I said. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent. I lost both of mine years ago, and their deaths still haunt me.”

He dropped his gaze and didn’t speak.

“Sometimes I wake up and wonder if I’m back in my real life, where they’re alive and everything is as it should be. But I never am. It makes me feel so alone.” I swallowed hard and watched the torchlight play across his features. “But I’m not alone. They loved me, and that love doesn’t go away just because they’re gone. The same goes for you. Your father loved you. He would have done anything for you. The pain may never go away, not wholly, but never forget that you meant everything to him.”

“You pretended to be someone you’re not for weeks. How do I know anything you say is true?”

“You don’t.” I glanced at the cell door. Closed. The keys must have been in the prince’s pocket. “You don’t know if anything I just said about my past is true, but you do know that everything I said about your present is. You know how your father felt, in spite of your unfortunate personality. Everyone does.”

Tobiah glanced at me and frowned. “And why offer comfort when you have such a low opinion of my personality? Do you think I’m going to let you out?”

I couldn’t stop the faint smile that crept up on me. “Because when my parents were murdered, someone I barely knew offered comfort. He had no reason to do it. I used to resent him for it, because as far as I could see, he’d lost nothing when I’d lost everything.” I dropped my gaze to my knees, trying not to slouch beneath the weight of old memories. “Now, I wonder if his kindness is part of what kept me human all these years.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned back. “Tell me again where you were the night my father was killed.”

Back to the questions. I struggled to build up my defenses again, but I was exhausted. My whole body was heavy. “Sleeping.”

“You have no alibi?”

“I suppose I don’t.”

“Then I guess I’m done here.” He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. Weariness made his shoulders curl inward. “Unless you want to tell me what to call you.”

“You have so many options. I still answer to Julianna.”

“James said you called yourself a nameless girl.”

“It’s what a friend calls me. Affectionately, I think. He doesn’t know my real name, either. Don’t imagine I’m going to tell you.”

“A friend, huh?” Tobiah was watching me, his dark eyes filled with grief and regret and a spark of familiarity. He knelt in front of the bench and pressed something small and silky into my fingers. “Oh, nameless girl.” His voice shifted deeper. “When will you learn to trust me?”