The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(89)

“Where are you going?”

I pressed my lips together. In the prison, he’d asked when I would learn to trust him. After what he’d hidden from me? Maybe never. Not fully. Then again, I’d hidden so much from him, too.

One of us needed to make an effort to be honest. “I’m going up the mountain. To the old palace. East Pass Watch.”

A combination of a smile and grimace pulled at his mouth. “The Ospreys live there?”

“Yes.” I glanced toward the ancient castle, concealed by rock and trees and distance. “I’m coming back to Skyvale. Tonight. But in case I’m not fast enough, or if something goes wrong, you need to be ready.”

Darkness veiled his tone. “What do you mean?”

“Skyvale needs you right now.” I placed my palm on his chest, felt the quickening of his heart as I stepped back. “They need you. Their prince. Their future king. Not Black Knife. Not this time.”

“What’s going to happen?” His features softened as he gazed toward his city below.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But you’ll need your army.”

He nodded, somber. “Before we go, are you ever going to tell me your real name? Or will I have to call you a boy’s name forever?”

“My name is Wil.” I heaved up the bag filled with my belongings. “One L.” Was it stupid to tell him? It was too late to take back the truth.

“Wil.” The way he said my name now was different. Softer, more real, more . . . hopeful. “Please tell me that’s short for something.”

“Good-bye, Your Highness.” I started up the mountain, leaving behind Tobiah and his light.

I WAS THERE when the war began.

I was seven, chased out of bed by thunder shaking the panes of glass in my window. When I went to find my parents, they weren’t in their rooms.

Frightened, but not admitting it, I hurried, barefoot, to Father’s study, where light spilled from the crack below the door and a pair of red-jacketed soldiers stood on guard duty.

Mother’s high, angry voice pushed through the corridor. “Do you really want to throw the kingdom into war?”

“War is inevitable after what General Lien has done.”

“Not if we get rid of him and return—”

“Regardless, I’m not signing the Wraith Alliance. Magic might not be the answer, but it should be considered as an option.” Only thunder rivaled the boom of Father’s voice.

They were fighting. Which meant I wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

I sneaked back the way I’d come so the guards wouldn’t notice me.

Maybe I’d find Melanie. She wouldn’t mind if I woke her up, and we could easily sneak past her parents.

As I walked by a study door, someone groaned. I halted, listened until the sound came again, and peeked inside. Only a low fire lit the long room; a curtained window loomed at the far end.

I shivered. This was General Lien’s office. I did not want to run into him, especially in the middle of the night. But . . . it didn’t look like he was inside. And if someone was hurt, I had to help.

I’d help before the general came back and caught me.

Quickly, I checked the hall. No guards. There was hardly anybody around. Sandcliff Castle was so empty tonight.

Thunder cracked again and I slipped into the room, shutting the door after me.

Another moan came from a chair close to the fire.

“Who’s there?”

When only frantic humming answered, I considered going out to find a guard. But then I saw him.

The person on the chair was just a boy, his nightclothes rumpled and dirt stained. A piece of cloth filled his mouth, and his hands and feet were tied with ropes.

I rushed forward and tugged at the gag. “Who are you? Who did this?” Maybe he was visiting from Northland with his family. The duke had a son about my age. Or maybe he was a merchant’s son, and some of the castle boys were playing a prank on him, like they used to do to Patrick Lien because of his bruises. Before he learned how to fight back.

The gag came loose and the boy scrunched his face, like he could push the bad taste from his mouth. “I’m Tobiah Pierce, House of the Dragon, Crown Prince of the Indigo Kingdom.”

An unladylike snort escaped me as I tried to pry loose the knots in the rope, but the rope was too prickly and hurt my fingers. “Sure.”

“I’m not lying. Who are you?”

“Wilhelmina Korte, Princess of Aecor. And I’m not lying.” I showed him the signet ring Father had given me. It was an exact copy of his, only smaller. “Hold still.” The knots were too tight and the rope too rough. I darted over to the desk to look for shears or a letter opener. Anything sharp.

Papers, pens, wax for sealing letters: there was nothing useful on the desk.

“If you’re the princess, why are you freeing me?” asked the boy who couldn’t be Tobiah Pierce. “After all, your father had me kidnapped.”

“He would never!” I marched back to the boy and crossed my arms. “Take it back. He would never kidnap anyone, not even Prince Tobiah. My father is a good man. Besides, if he had kidnapped you, I wouldn’t be freeing you.” It was a trick, like the time Melanie and some of the others had hidden inside my wardrobe one night, tapping on the wood and groaning like they were ghosts.