by Jodi Meadows
I shook away those worries. I’d done what I could.
Cautiously, I descended to the street and kept to the shadows, making a straight line for Fisher’s Mouth. It felt good to stretch and push, to allow the night air to surround me. Everything in the palace seemed so far away now.
But the problems of Skyvale were more real than ever. Though the Inundation had lasted only a few hours, the effects were profound: ripples of stone cascaded down a warehouse, as though the building had been momentarily molten; squirrels that had been darting over buildings were now petrified, caught mid-crouch forever; and pipes meant for plumbing had partially phased through the factory where they were manufactured, giving the huge building a weirdly skeletal look.
This was the beginnings of the wraithland.
I hurried on.
Fisher’s Mouth was on the far side of the district, where the river coursed under the city wall. During the day, fishermen ran nets across the water. They could usually be persuaded to part with some of their catch in trade for items pinched from the more wealthy areas of Skyvale.
Tonight, the fishery was empty, save the sounds of a handful of people downstream. A child shrieked at the chill spray of water while adults scolded the girl. “Be quiet,” they said. “Police will find us.”
I slipped along the river, wrinkling my nose against the pungent odor of fish. It was hard to believe no one had come to steal a few meals, given the dozen barrels ready to be transported into the building.
One look into the barrels told me why. Brown-striped bass and red-bellied sunfish lay dead, but where the fins had been, now were hands. Tiny and brown, with webbed fingers. Their dead-eyed stares were strange, too. They looked human. Some had lips.
Bile raced up the back of my throat, and I turned away.
I had brought this here. My magic. My wraith boy.
Wary, I crept into the building, hands on my daggers. Heavy, wet darkness wrapped around me like a cloak, and I paused to let my eyes adjust.
A feral cat yowled. A deeper growl followed, coming from somewhere behind crates of packaged fish, which rose along the walls. The damp storage area and the crash of the river rushing at my back absorbed the sound.
I checked behind every crate and barrel, but found no sign of Ospreys. The small office had been raided for its supplies.
In the distance, the clock tower struck twenty-three. I needed to get back soon. Thanks to the additional patrols, I’d have to give myself plenty of time to sneak back through Hawksbill. Rushing had gotten me caught before.
Halfway out the door, I stopped. A creamy white paper fluttered in a draft, caught against the wall. Even dirt streaked and crumpled, it was easy to see the paper was too fine for a fishery.
I smothered a laugh as I rescued the palace stationery from the wall. The list was in Melanie’s handwriting, as familiar to me as her face and voice.
Locations, numbers: I knew this list. These were the resistance groups in Aecor, the list we’d copied during our infiltration of Skyvale Palace, though in a different order than the one I recalled.
“Oh, Melanie.” I folded the paper and tucked it into a pocket. “You are so clever.”
I could almost hear her reply: “Say it again.”
Melanie hadn’t turned. She hadn’t. Patrick must have wanted to move on as soon as she’d returned, so she’d left something she knew I’d be sure to spot.
Outside, I started for Hawksbill, but a scream downriver cut the silence.
My heart thundered as I hurtled myself toward the shrieks and adults’ shouts for the girl to move away from the water. Someone called for the police to help.
I sprinted along the riverside, the churning waters inky at my right. In the high moonlight, spray glittered as a creature lurched from the depths. It was all sinuous scales and snapping jaws, some terrible fusion between lizard and snake, and as big as a hunting hound. Enormous fangs dripped black fluid as it plodded toward a group of six or seven people, including the girl who stood just ahead of the others. Carefully, she backed away, one long slow step at a time. The whites of her eyes shone wide.
“Come on,” urged the adults. “Just a little farther.”
The girl whimpered, making the wraith beast leap forward—
“Hey!” I jumped out from the shadow of a melting wall, sword sliding out of its sheath without a sound.
The wraith beast whipped around in a flurry of claws and fangs and scales, wraith-white eyes trained on me. The girl spun and ran for her family; they caught her with reaching arms and dragged her from the beast’s sight.
It slithered toward me, four stubby legs pumping to keep up with the rest of its body. Wraith had not been kind to this creature.
My sword shone between the beast and me, an unfamiliar stretch of steel. I’d wielded swords before, but not this one, and never one so fine. The hilt fit my hand perfectly, though; like the rest of my gear, it had been made to suit me.
I held my ground until the beast reached me, and then sliced my blade through the air. The creature leapt back, a tangle of long body and tail, but righted itself quickly. The milky eyes fell back on me as it came around to my left side. I brought my sword inward, but the blade connected with a fang and slid down the length with a shing. The black liquid dripped from the tip of the fang, catching on the edge of my blade. Metal sizzled as the venom dribbled down the steel.
Swearing, I thrust my sword at the creature, catching its nostril. It shrieked and pulled back, almost as though reconsidering its chosen prey.
“You ruined my new sword,” I grumbled, turning slightly to dip the sizzling metal into the dark river to neutralize the venom.
The snake-lizard hissed and struck; I barely had time to lift my sword in defense as the fangs crashed toward me. Water droplets glittered as the blade arced through the air and caught the creature’s mouth, cutting a long gash across its face. The creature made a sound between a scream and hiss before it whipped around me, toward the water.
I couldn’t let it escape. It would just find someone else to attack, and I could only imagine the kind of damage it would do if left unchecked.
I lunged for the beast, driving my blade deep into its side. Too deep. As I tried to pull it out, the snake-lizard swung around and the hilt slipped from my hand. My sword went skittering across the paving stones and the creature crouched as though to leap onto me.
My hands found my daggers, but I was too slow. The wraith beast’s front feet hit my shoulders and I dropped backward, trapped under the weight of the beast. Venom glistened on the fangs—
I jerked up my daggers and thrust both blades into its throat at the same time as I brought up my knees and shoved it off me.
The beast rolled away, blood pouring from its wound. It didn’t attack again, but its chest still moved with breath.
One eye on the creature, I bent to rinse my daggers in the river, then find my sword.
“Black Knife,” someone breathed.
I spun to find the family still huddled in the entrance to the street, away from the fighting, but close enough to watch.
Without a word, I snatched my sword and dragged the good edge along the snake-lizard’s neck once more, just to be sure. White mist poured upward; I moved out of the way.
“Thank you, Black Knife!” one of the women called. “Thank you for saving my daughter!”
“Don’t.” It was my fault the wraith had come. My fault Skyvale had been transformed into this nightmare. My fault it would only get worse.
EIGHT
THE NEW PATROLS were such that climbing up the front of the palace would be asking to get caught. That made my placement at the back of the Dragon Wing convenient for sneaking in and out.
When I climbed to my balcony and hopped over the rail, my landing was silent.
A light shone in my sitting room.
I’d left the suite dark, but obviously someone was there now. A maid might have come looking for me. Sergeant Ferris, maybe. Still, I made sure my dagger
s were loose in their sheathes, ready to draw, and I slipped into my bedroom.
The room was dark. Quiet. I stepped deeper into shadows as I pulled the door closed behind me.
Light flared: the gas lamps in my bedroom hissed to life, and a portly man appeared next to the door.
Prince Colin Pierce. Overlord of Aecor Territory.
My daggers were in my grasp before my eyes finished adjusting to the blaze of light, but Prince Colin held up a hand. “Better not, Princess. There are those who aren’t certain you weren’t the one to assassinate my brother.”
“You know I didn’t touch King Terrell.”
“Do I?” He motioned toward my weapons. “Seems to me you’re capable of reaching well-guarded locations and using those weapons. You are Black Knife, after all. Suppose I was to tell someone I saw you creep back into your quarters like a thief, after you were forbidden to leave the palace? What would everyone say?”
“Suppose you did. Oh, how awkward the questions would be for you. Why were you sneaking into a young lady’s bedchambers? What were you planning on doing to her?” My pulse thrummed in my throat; that was a good question.
He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, dear Wilhelmina. All I’d have to say is that I was invited here. You want Aecor, after all. Everyone knows what you are: Black Knife, identity thief, flasher, wraith animator. You can claim you’re trying to apprehend your friend Patrick Lien as much as the rest of us, but for all I know, you were out there warning him of our plans and tactics.”
Blood pounded through my ears. He was threatening me. “What do you want?”
His smile crept up like a spider. “What do you think I want?”
“Aecor. You want me to give up my kingdom.” And if I resisted . . . then what? He’d instigate an investigation? Happen upon proof I’d gone out as Black Knife?
“I want you to give up everything.” His gaze slid down my body, as heavy as a touch. An awful crawling sensation made my breath hitch and my body shudder. Phantom hands slithered across my skin, bruising, and a desperate part of me wanted to rush forward and drive my daggers into his chest.
With a sharp smile, Prince Colin’s attention lingered on my legs. “Sleep well, Your Highness. I know I will.” He bowed and left the room.
Head spinning, I took two deep breaths and listened to the sound of his footfalls through my sitting room. In my space.
Rage fogged my vision as I darted after him, my blades ready. But he was already halfway through the door as I approached, and he shot me a chastising look, as though reminding me how utterly stupid it would be to kill him.
“By the way, I heard an interesting rumor about my nephew. He was near death when I visited, but he seems quite recovered now. Interesting that you were present for both his miraculous healing, and that of his bodyguard.”
With that, he strode down the hall, leaving me to stand in the empty doorway with my daggers clutched in my fists.
No one was standing guard. Where—?
Prince Colin. Of course.
He could threaten all he wanted, but he couldn’t keep my kingdom.
And I’d kill him before he touched me.
I was out my door before dawn.
Sergeant Ferris stood there with his arms across his chest, his brow drawn inward. “What happened to Chris?”
“Who?” I scanned the hall, but other than the pair of guards at the wraith boy’s storage room, it was empty. There wasn’t even anyone standing outside Tobiah’s suite, though perhaps he was not as opposed to having them stationed inside.
“Your overnight guard. And while I’m at it, where were your wraith monster’s guards?”
“Ask them.” I brushed past him, focusing on keeping a neutral face as I strode down the hall.
Sergeant Ferris followed. Of course. “Where can I take you?”
As if he was the one doing the leading.
“I have an appointment with Captain Rayner.”
“This afternoon.”
“He’ll see me this morning.”
Further questions were met with silence, and only the dagger I’d strapped around my leg—hidden beneath my ocean-colored gown—helped the anxiety building in the back of my thoughts.
The wood-paneled walls of James’s new office were bare except for a small plaque with the Rayner family crest engraved in brass, and a line of bookcases along the interior wall. They were filled with histories and tactical studies and atlases.
“Your Highness.” James stood, his tone formal when I entered the room. “Please, come in and sit. Excuse the mess. I haven’t had much time to set up in here.” He motioned at the papers and books strewn across the desk. And in spite of his invitation, the chair on my side of the desk bore a tray piled with empty teacups and caddies.
“Captain, a moment?” Sergeant Ferris lingered in the hall.
James picked up the tea tray and took it with him. The door shut, muffling their voices, but they spoke only a moment before James returned. “Sorry. I got shoved in here yesterday afternoon. It’s an upgrade from my previous office; this one has a window.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. You’ve had a lot to do since you awakened.” It was hard to believe that had only been two days ago.
James’s eyes lowered and he nodded. “Yet I feel the same as ever. You’re sure you didn’t have anything to do with my awakening?”
“Absolutely sure.” It had to be a coincidence that he’d opened his eyes just as I touched his hand. “Have you made any progress finding Patrick?”
“We know where he isn’t.” James sat behind his desk and cleared a small canyon between us.
Melanie’s list hissed against the desk as I slid it toward James. “I found this last night.”
His face was dark as he tilted the paper toward him. “Where did you get this?”
“Fisher’s Mouth.”
He released a long sigh. “All right. What is it?”
“It’s a list of Aecorian resistance groups. It’s rearranged, and I think the new order indicates where Patrick is going first.”
“Can we trust this?” He tapped the first location. “We need to be sure before sending people there.”
“I trust Melanie.” I pulled out the letter she’d left in the Peacock Inn. I’d read it a hundred times already; most of it was what we’d covered when we met. “The list was her second attempt to leave information for me. She was delivering this when we bumped into each other outside the inn.”
He skimmed the letter. “The Red Militia?”
“That’s what he’s calling his army.”
“Your army, he hopes.” James folded the letter. “You can’t give in to his demand. If you declare yourself queen, you’ll provoke Prince Colin. And then Patrick gets what he wants.”
“But if I don’t declare myself queen, Patrick marches against the Indigo Kingdom.”
James narrowed his eyes. “Are you planning to—”
“No.” I sucked in a breath. “Not right now. It just seems like I can’t win, no matter what I do. Prince Colin won’t give up Aecor, and Patrick won’t wait for me to claim it myself. Unless Patrick is arrested, there’s going to be a war, and I don’t know what side I’m supposed to be on.”
James rubbed his temples and nodded. “All right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how this puts you in just as bad a position as the rest of us.” He placed the list of resistance groups on top of a pile of papers. “I’ll have people sent to these locations, though even Melanie says Lien doesn’t trust her. If he told her this was the order, it could be more false information to lead us into a trap.”
Better than anyone, I knew about lying on paper. “I understand. But meanwhile, I can’t sit around and do nothing.”
“I wouldn’t call your nightly excursions ‘nothing.’” He shook his head, but at least he wasn’t giving me a hard time about it. “What of the letter to Aecor?”
“I’ve been making notes.”
“Good.” James glanced at the small clock o
n a mostly empty bookcase. “I have some time now, if you want to get started. There are writing supplies here somewhere.”
He gave me the comfortable seat behind the desk while he leaned on the edge, keeping out of my light.
“Tobiah would be better at helping you with this, but he’s still trapped in his quarters. His guards are already asking questions, but they know better than to voice their misgivings to anyone.”
“What about the messenger? Alain?”
“I had him followed. He eventually ended up with Prince Colin, but if they’ve done anything with that information, I haven’t heard about it yet.”
When I closed my eyes, I saw Prince Colin in my quarters last night. His sneer. His satisfaction. The memory made me shudder.
James didn’t notice my discomfort. “Anyway, I’ve sat in enough meetings to be able to assist you with this.”
“And I’ve forged enough official documents—”
“Really?” He looked incredulous. “Do I even want to know?”
I smirked. “No, actually, I haven’t. Nothing like this, anyway. But I know the tone and language, more or less. Still, it might be wise to have someone look over it before copies are made. I’d hate for anyone to think I didn’t know how to be a proper princess.”
James rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine there’s any question about what kind of princess you are, Your Highness. Now, let’s get this finished. I have both a memorial and coronation to coordinate security for, you know.”
I flapped my hands at the other chair. “Sit down and try not to drool on the paper.”
Once James was settled beside me, I arranged my writing supplies around a sheet of creamy, white paper. It was smooth, without blemishes or watermarks, and unlined. While the palace had plenty of fine paper, sending a letter like this on paper with an Indigo Kingdom crest on top might not be the best idea.
With a ruler, I began measuring line widths and making guide marks. Once the sheet was covered with pale hashes, I adjusted the ruler and traced faint lines.
