The Mirror King (Orphan Queen) (16 page)

“You must have a low opinion of me, Your Majesty. I took very good care of the gown.”

“The gown?”

“Silver, with ospreys clutching swords embroidered across the bodice. They looked just like these boots, so I know you’re responsible for it.” I propped my foot up on the edge of the desk chair. Black ospreys soared around my calf, just below my knee. “Tell me, Your Highness, do you embroider?”

“Ah,
that
gown.” His smile faltered and memory fogged across his eyes. “The one you wore to my father’s . . .”

My breath hitched. His father’s birthday ball, when he’d argued with King Terrell about marrying Meredith, and later we’d kissed in the breezeway, maybe at the same moment Patrick was sneaking into the king’s sleeping chambers.

Tobiah slumped toward the edge of his bed and sat. His fingers clutched vaguely at his heart, as though he could rip out the pain. But it wouldn’t go away. Not ever.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to bring that up.” I was thoughtless.

He lifted his eyes to me. “No, it’s part of my life now.” Understandably, he’d think of his father now, when only hours ago he’d taken his father’s place. “I didn’t accept your help after the Inundation. It was foolish. I’d like to accept your help now, if you’re still offering,” he said.

“Of course.” Haltingly, I crossed the room and stood before him. “Of course I’m still offering.”

He reached for me, arms lifted up like hope, and suddenly we were holding each other so tight. His fingertips dug into my shoulder blades. I hated myself for ever thinking he was spoiled,
having ten extra years with his father. It hurt fiercely, no matter when it happened, and there was no pain compared to that of seeing one’s father die, or finding his body.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into his hair. Neither of us could have prevented our parents’ murders, but the pain and what-if were undeniable.

I’d been a child when it happened. Innocent. Terrified. Forever changed because of what I’d seen.

He was older. Less innocent, but still terrified, because he was expected to be a king now.

Get married. Win a war. Stop the wraith from destroying everything.

He spent so much time being everything for everyone else: a son, a prince, a hero.

“I should have protected him,” he whispered, drawing back. He looked so devastated. “I should have spent more time with him and been there when Patrick came. I thought the city needed me, but it was my family I’d neglected all along.”

“You were doing something good. Your father would have been proud if he’d known.” I bit my lip and met his eyes. “I didn’t get to know him well.”

“I know.”

“During the breakfast I shared with him, he only wanted to talk about you. His regrets. But I think he would have been proud that you’d taken the initiative to venture into the city, how you fought to help your people in a way most kings or princes would never dream. The night of his birthday ball, he said he hadn’t put his family first. It was always his kingdom that got his attention. That might be the price of ruling. That was a lesson
you learned from him, and one you put into action when you put on your mask. So yes, I think he’d be proud of you for becoming the king he’d trained you to be.”

“Yet I still disappointed him. The last words we exchanged were in anger.”

I touched his face, my gloves ink against the parchment of his skin. “That would never stop him from loving you. You’re his son.”

He tilted his face so the curve of his cheek fit in the cup of my palm. His hair tangled around the tips of my fingers and his breath warmed a sliver of skin showing between my glove and sleeve. “You are a mystery, Wilhelmina. You won’t accept anything that even resembles assistance or comfort, but you offer both so freely.”

The mask hid my tired smile.

Cautiously, like I might run, he leaned forward and kissed me. Silk clung between our lips for a heartbeat, and he pulled back to search my eyes. Only the mask prevented more, and his expression was a question of hope and yearning.

My heart thundered as I shifted toward him, chin tilted upward.

His fingers slid beneath the mask, cool against my throat. Slowly, the silk slipped up and off my mouth and nose and eyes, then dropped to the bed as Tobiah moved close. There was a long, hesitating moment with fire surging through me. All the places we touched were bright and sharp and sensitive. More than anything, I wanted this part to linger—this aching and wanting, with his fingertips glancing off my jaw, when anything was possible. We might still make the right choice.

But what was one more mistake?

A soft groan escaped as I pushed toward him, and he pulled me in, and then I sat astride his lap, kissing him. Our mouths, touching. Our breaths, gasping. Our hands, grasping. The silk of his shirt slid across his skin where I caressed. His shoulders and arms were strong and toned, and the muscles flexed when he pulled the tie off the end of my braid and combed his fingers through my hair. His palm pressed flat against my spine and lit fires at the small of my back. His free hand rested on my hip, holding me in place.

He whispered my name between kisses, moving from my lips to my cheeks to my jaw to my throat. He made me feel alive.

This
felt
right. It felt like being back in the breezeway with the night around us, and our bodies pressed close together. When I’d explored his face with my fingers, not knowing his true identity. I’d never wanted someone like that.
Loved
someone like that.

Reluctantly, I pulled away, pieces of me at a time. My arms from around his shoulders. My chest from his chest. My legs from his lap.

“Wilhelmina.” His eyes were still closed. Time stretched like distance between us, and finally he looked at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s my fault, too.” My eyes cut to the balcony where I should have gone as soon as he’d declined to go out tonight. “And I’m sorry.”

He pushed up from his bed and took my mask. “I wish we didn’t have to say that.” He ran the mask between his fingers for a moment, expression unreadable when he looked at it. Then he
handed it to me and nodded toward the frame. “Thank you for the letter.”

A strange sort of tension formed between us, palpable and ugly. Once, we’d known each other as enemies, and now I could still feel the shape of him in my arms. Now we were our own enemies. “I’d better go.”

On the balcony, wind picked at my loose hair, but I pulled on my mask and turned my eyes to the diamond-dark sky, listening for the cadence of patrol footfalls and voices.

Through the chilly night, I ran as far and fast from Tobiah as I could.

THE FOLLOWING DAY,
an invitation card arrived:

Princess Wilhelmina,

Please join me in the ladies’ solar at ten. I have been throughout the palace collecting donations for the poor, but I need assistance sorting. Bring your friends. All hands are helpful hands.

Very best,

Meredith Corcoran

The reverse had a gold unicorn embossed on the heavy paper.

I shouldn’t have been surprised it was Meredith who stepped forward to help. She’d also been the one to initiate sewing time in the ladies’ solar, creating works of art to send to soldiers.

Groggily, I found blankets and clothes from the suite to add to the boxes, and then fetched the Ospreys.

When we arrived in the solar, the duchess was surrounded by baskets and crates overflowing with donations.

“Oh, thank saints!” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t the usual reaction to my arrival, but I hazarded a smile. “We brought a few items.” Which was silly, perhaps. All these things had been given to us by King Terrell or Tobiah. None of it was ours to give.

But if we didn’t want it or need it and there was a better use . . .

“How kind of you.” Meredith cleared a place on the floor for our boxes. She flitted about the room, placing large, empty crates along one wall. “We’ll fill these for shelters in the Flags. Try to put an even number of every type of item in each crate. There are lists for which shelters are requesting specific items; some we might be able to accommodate, but most are requesting
everything
.”

“Sounds simple.” I waved for Theresa and the boys to begin. They rushed through the room, each of them taking charge of a group of crates.

“I’m so glad you came,” Meredith repeated, watching the Ospreys work. “I invited a dozen ladies. I don’t know why they aren’t here. They all said they wanted to help.”

“Did they know I’d be here?”

She hesitated, almost like she wanted to lie, but she was incapable of dishonesty. Her shoulders dropped. “I mentioned I’d sent you an invitation.”

“We don’t have to stay if it will affect your time with your friends.”

Meredith waved that away. “It was their decision to put
their personal feelings above the needs of our people. I would like you to stay.”

I eyed her askance, searching for hidden agendas, but she appeared genuine.

“It is human nature to avoid what makes us uncomfortable.” Meredith took a pair of slightly worn dancing slippers and placed them in a nearby crate, though what use those would be in the Flags, I wasn’t sure.

“And Chey?” I asked. “What about her?”

Meredith pressed her mouth into a line, thoughtful. “Her absence isn’t surprising, and not entirely without justification. You gave her hope that her friend was alive. You attempted to deceive her, along with the rest of palace society. But she wasn’t honorable, either. She should have confronted you directly, rather than allow the deception to continue. She shouldn’t have tried to humiliate you.”

I’d probably have done the same thing in Chey’s place.

“The others likely followed her lead. That’s something she and I and the others will have to work on later. For now, we have boxes to fill.”

King Terrell had been correct: Meredith was exactly what this kingdom needed.

Heart heavy with guilt, I worked with her for three hours, taking only a short break for lunch.

Carl and Connor held an eating race, both trying to impress Meredith by how quickly they could shovel food down their throats without chewing. Theresa tried to hide a vaguely sick, embarrassed look, and Kevin made fun of the younger boys in a way designed to make Meredith laugh. Of course, she didn’t.

“Where will your wedding be held?” Theresa asked as we finished with the last of the day’s work. “Since the cathedral is”—she glanced at me—“gone.”

I pushed away the memory of last night: Tobiah’s hands on my back, his mouth on mine. . . .

That couldn’t happen again.

“The palace has a lovely chapel.” Meredith didn’t miss a beat as she pulled a lid onto a full crate. “We’ll use that. I prefer a smaller, more intimate wedding anyway. My parents are paying for much of the ceremony, feast, and ball, but with the kingdom in such a state, I don’t think an extravagant wedding would be appropriate.”

“Oh, of course not.” Theresa shot me a look asking how
that
wasn’t extravagant.

The clock chimed thirteen, and Meredith turned to me. “His Majesty’s first audience is going to start soon. I thought we should be there to offer a pair of friendly faces.”

“Good idea.” I turned to Theresa and the boys. “Lessons or audience? It’s your choice.”

“Lessons.” Kevin had the gleam of infatuation in his eyes. “Audience will be boring. Just a lot of problems and people talking.”

Grudgingly, Carl and Connor agreed, and I sent the three of them back to their apartments with a guard.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming with you,” Theresa said. “Their company gets exhausting sometimes.”

“Saints, I’m sure.” Meredith hooked her arm with Theresa’s. “I’ve never seen sweeter, more hardworking boys, but they do require constant supervision, don’t they?”

We walked to the throne room, Theresa and Meredith chatting the whole way.

The chamber was already full when we arrived, but there was space at the front reserved for Meredith and me. We squeezed Theresa in between us. Several of Meredith’s friends—Chey, Margot, and the others who frequented the solar for needlework—cast frowns our way, but if Meredith noticed them, she didn’t comment.

Theresa gazed at the dragon art filling the room, awestruck as if she hadn’t spent last evening here, too. “Imagine the redecorating if another House were to take the throne one day.”

“It’s said if another House took the throne, the kingdom would fall apart.” Meredith smiled indulgently. “But that’s just a story House of the Dragon made up centuries ago. The Gearys were Dragon, too, you know.”

“King Tobiah is Dragon, but what’s this ‘heir to four Houses’ I keep hearing?” Theresa frowned at a dragon sculpture. “Doesn’t that count as another House taking the throne?”

“Oh no.” Meredith leaned close and lowered her voice. “It’s another wishful tale, but it is true that King Tobiah’s parents are from two different Houses, and his grandparents cover the other two. Hence the four Houses.”

“That sounds like everyone making themselves feel better by assigning significance to nothing special.”

“Some people appease their fears by idolizing their king.” Meredith nodded thoughtfully. “But that’s what people do sometimes, and there is a little specialness in being a direct descendant of four Houses. It’s unusual.”

The general hum of voices lowered as Tobiah emerged from
a group of men he’d been talking with. He took his throne, and his mother took the smaller one next to him. Both were formally dressed; Tobiah wore a gleaming crown.

His eyes scanned the audience, settling on Meredith and me. The prince mask returned. King mask, now.

One of the attendants called the audience to order. “Presenting His Majesty King Tobiah Pierce, House of the Dragon, and Sovereign of the Indigo Kingdom.”

Applause exploded over the throne room, and the king mask fell away to reveal a smile that shone with something between pride and grief. He was king, as he was meant to be, but he was king
now
for only one reason.

As the cheering died, Tobiah lifted his voice so it rang across the chamber. “My father was known for being a fair and generous man during his audiences. That’s something I always admired. I want to be known for the same strong qualities. I’m afraid our current wraith situation will make that even more of a challenge, but even more necessary, too. Already Skyvale is receiving refugees from the southern reaches of the land. Every decision I make from this moment forward must be colored by that knowledge.

“To that effect, I would like to announce that I am making a number of immediate changes. First: all refugees, regardless of their homeland, will be welcomed into Skyvale.”

A few people clapped, Meredith and Theresa among them.

“This brings me to the second point: those same refugees, along with anyone else in the city, will be given jobs. In addition to restoring normalcy to Skyvale, I intend to restore the mirrors that were shattered during the Inundation. As well, I want
mirrors all along the western border of the Indigo Kingdom.”

That announcement was met with a mixture of alarm, confusion, and hope.

Behind me, someone whispered, “We need
food
, not refugees and mirrors.”

“Finally, I am finished relying on passive measures to resist the wraith. This morning, I sent orders to build a facility south of the city. Plans are already being drawn up, and construction will begin by the end of the week.”

People in the front rows shifted uncertainly.

“The Liadian barrier held off the wraith for a year. We are going to build one as well, with an eye toward improving the longevity. Our barrier will be created in the new facility. Additionally, there will be a holding area for wraith creatures, and rewards for those brave enough to capture them alive, and bring them to the facility.”

Murmurs erupted across the throne room: the new king was mad, or wraith-touched, or the Aecorian princess was too much an influence.

Tobiah lifted a hand, and the whispering stopped. “I know this sounds alarming and outrageous to a lot of you, but our kingdom is in danger. We are desperate.” His dark eyes found mine, making my stomach drop. “My wraith mitigation committee is hard at work, and from now on, we will not simply try to
mitigate
the wraith’s effects, but
prevent
it from further entering the Indigo Kingdom.”

Meredith, Theresa, and I clapped, and gradually others joined in. A slight lowering of his shoulders was the only indication of relief Tobiah showed.

When Tobiah indicated, the audience began, first with petitions for food or financial aid disguised as praises of his generosity. He sat through all of these, granting some requests, but denying others.

“Why is he saying no to some?” Theresa whispered. “Those people need help.”

Meredith kept her voice soft. “Some are testing him, hoping to get favors they don’t need. This one, for example, says he needs shipments of grain, but the land he controls around Hawes has plenty of unused fields. They’re not starving, and they’re certainly not affected by the wraith.”

“Ah. So if he wants more grain, he should plant it, rather than take it from areas that actually need it.”

“Right. And His Majesty knows that. He studied with his father for years to gain this kind of knowledge.”

Theresa nodded toward the next petitioner. “What about this one?”

They continued on for a while, Theresa asking questions and Meredith giving opinions on why Tobiah made certain decisions. I listened, but found myself studying the others in attendance. Most were leaning toward one another in conversation, while a few looked ready to sneak out.

And who could blame them? None of the petitioners were particularly interesting, but everyone stayed because this was the
first
audience, and no one wanted to be remembered for leaving early.

The audience continued for three hours. Everyone wanted to see the new king, it seemed. But at last Tobiah said no more, and those closest to the doors began to slink out. But before the
exodus could begin, a man crashed into the chamber, not waiting to be announced.

“Your Majesty—” He bent over his knees to catch his breath. Damp, too-long curls covered his face, and torn, ragged clothes hung off his wiry frame. Through the layers of mud and smears of grass, hints of indigo shone: he was a soldier in the Indigo Army.

Tobiah either knew the man or recognized the tattered uniform, because he surged up from his throne and met the man in the aisle. The crowd pushed close around them, held back by the Indigo Order. “What is it?”

My heart pounded. It had to be the wraith. Another town had fallen. It was happening again.

The man coughed and cleared his throat. “Aecor,” he said. “I’ve just ridden from Aecor.”

The throne room was silent.

“What about it?” The new king’s voice was firm and gentle as he helped the man stand upright. “What about Aecor?” I could almost feel the effort it took for him to not look for me in the crowd. Several others did, though. Theresa, too.

“Patrick Lien has taken the Aecorian city of Northland.”

More eyes darted toward me.

“When did this happen?” asked Tobiah.

“Yesterday. The Red Militia is only a small army, but they were devious and the city—they
fought with him
. It had been quiet for so long, but they knew he was coming. We were overwhelmed within hours. My captain sent me to warn you immediately. I rode all night. All day.”

Tobiah’s jaw clenched. “I see.” He motioned for one of the
servants standing by. “Prepare a room and meal for him.” He made his voice soft as he spoke to the soldier again. “Rest. I’ll speak with you further this evening.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The man bowed and left, and Tobiah stood in the aisle, arms hanging at his sides, his head dipped in thought.

Everyone just waited.

Tobiah’s chest expanded with a sigh. “General Goldberg. Is he here?”

“No, Sire.” Captain Chuter stepped forward. “But what can I do?”

“Alert the forces in Aecor. Send food and supplies. We need to move swiftly, before Lien’s control moves south to Aecor City.”

“And reinforcements?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

My breath came in shallow gasps as horror tore through me. Oh, Patrick. Paige. Ronald and Oscar. Melanie.

It was too soon. Why hadn’t Melanie stopped this?

After another long pause, Tobiah said, “I regret to inform the court that we are now at war.”