The Mirror King

by Jodi Meadows

  For example, an entire kingdom’s worth of flashers pouring their magic into a barrier.

  I hadn’t cared as much about that point, but when representatives from other kingdoms heard what happened with Liadia, the debate had lasted hours.

  With the revised points out of the way, Tobiah gestured toward the audience. “You, my friends, are here today to witness this historic moment. Today, the new Wraith Alliance is born.”

  He inked a pen and signed the bottom of the paper. The next man signed, and then the next.

  When at last I stood in front of the document, the signatures of those before me already drying, I took the pen and drew a breath. I had no right to sign this. But I’d sworn I’d add my name, and so I would.

  But first: “While I’m not yet Queen of Aecor, I sign the Wraith Alliance as a promise. For a century, my ancestors refused this agreement, a stance which has been a source of contention between Aecor and its neighbors. But today, I let go of the past. If there is to be a better world, we must forge it now. Today, I look toward the future.”

  Light flared out the windows, chased by a long roll of thunder and the slap of rain on glass and stone. But the sound didn’t fade. When I blinked, I realized it wasn’t only thunder I’d heard, but the din of clapping, and cheering from the Ospreys—and even Meredith.

  I’d expected surprise, maybe apathy, but never approval. Not like this. Everyone was clapping, both familiar faces and unfamiliar, as if they’d momentarily forgotten all the things I’d done.

  Maybe this was as big for them as it was for me: a hundred years of unease was behind us. Signing the Wraith Alliance wasn’t going to fix problems, but it was a start.

  One face stood out from the others. Prince Colin was smiling, but it was the curled smile of calculating his next move. If I signed this, he’d retaliate.

  If I didn’t sign it, I wasn’t the queen my people needed.

  I dipped my pen into the heavy black ink, and hesitated only a moment as I put together my signature in my mind. I’d practiced it since that day in James’s office, but this wasn’t practice. This was real.

  I signed: Wilhelmina Korte, Princess of Aecor.

  The applause lasted while I cleaned the nib and set aside the pen to join the others who’d signed.

  As Tobiah took the center again, he sent a faint nod my way, and waited until the cheers died. “Today is indeed monumental. I only wish we could celebrate this signing properly.”

  I bit my tongue to contain a snort. That was a lie if I’d ever heard one. Tobiah was notorious for skipping social gatherings.

  “There is one more event I’m pleased to say has been moved up.” He lifted a hand toward Meredith. She glided forward, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “It’s important to both Lady Meredith and me that all our guests join us on our wedding day. While we considered keeping our original date of the winter solstice, we know the uncertain climate here must make everyone eager to return home.

  “As such, my fiancée and I have decided to move forward our wedding. The ceremony will be held in the palace chapel in two days, and will be immediately followed by Lady Meredith’s coronation. In two days, the Indigo Kingdom will have its new queen.”

  NINETEEN

  I HAD TO stop going to the throne room. Every time I did, Tobiah delivered bad news.

  Though to be fair, the war situation was probably worse than the wedding being moved up.

  But that evening, and the following, I went out earlier than usual so he wouldn’t find me; the last thing I wanted was a couple of awkward nights of vigilantism, both of us avoiding saying what we were thinking. I needed time alone. And finally, as I dispatched the final glowman of the night and started toward the palace again, I knew what I had to do.

  I had to go home.

  The Wraith Alliance was signed, the barrier facility was under way, and mirrors gleamed along the western reaches of Skyvale. I’d done what I could here, and now it was time to find Patrick and stop him from destroying my kingdom with this war.

  The decision soothed me as I sneaked back through Hawksbill. It didn’t matter that what was coming would be incredibly difficult, or that I’d be fighting friends I’d trusted for years. What mattered was that I had a goal, even if I had to ride into Aecor, hunt down the Red Militia, and arrest Patrick myself.

  Without thinking, I’d taken the usual route into the King’s Seat, so I wasn’t surprised when a black-jacketed figure peeled from the darkness around a statue of Terrell the First. “Avoiding me?” asked the shadow.

  “Avoiding everyone.”

  “I see.” His gaze stayed steady on mine. “Tonight was my last night.”

  Because tomorrow he’d be married. “I know.” I hadn’t thought about it, maybe, but of course it had to be over for him.

  He started walking the path we normally took, motioning for me to follow. A few minutes later, we reached one of the outbuildings behind the palace.

  “James and I used to practice in here,” he said. “Before you came. Then we spent most of our free time trying to figure out why you and Melanie were impersonating Liadian nobility.”

  He closed the door and turned on the light, revealing a wide, empty floor of dusty hardwood. Crates had been shoved against the walls, while shelves sagged with molding table linens, place settings, and old lighting fixtures.

  “This was a storage building until we took over.” He tore off his mask and scowled around the room. “It still is, I guess.”

  I took off my mask, too. “This is the kind of place where the Ospreys trained. You were a prince. Wasn’t there somewhere nicer? Actual practice rooms?”

  “Sure,” he said. “But there were always people watching me. Not just our trainers, but nobility, too. It was alarming how much they wanted to see whether James and I would cut each other, or watch our teachers smack us with the flat of their blades when our performance was unsatisfactory.” He swept his hand around the room. “I needed this place where I could really practice, because in public, I had to give the illusion of being a mediocre swordsman.”

  Tobiah’s past floated on the dust motes around us. If I closed my eyes, maybe I’d be able to hear echoes of his sword crashing against James’s.

  “You should use this room,” he said, “unless you’re planning on giving up this nocturnal habit.”

  “I still need it,” I whispered, and drew my sword. The blade was clean, but the steel was melted and lumpy on one edge.

  “That poor blade. Do you even feel bad?” He eyed it with a look of feigned disappointment.

  “I blame the snake-lizard. And maybe this other person who called himself Black Knife. He promised lessons and never delivered, so I’ve had to use the one trick I know.”

  “And that is?”

  “Putting the appropriate end in my opponent every time.”

  Tobiah drew his sword and allowed the light to glint off the flat of his blade. “Maybe he can make it up to you now.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re not Black Knife. Everyone knows Princess Wilhelmina is that awful vigilante.”

  He lunged to attack; I lifted my blade to block. “Everyone doesn’t know that. A lot of the city people believe you are”—his blade slid off mine with a shing—“but there’s quite the rumor spreading that while Wilhelmina was in the wraithland, Black Knife was still in Skyvale.”

  “Outrageous! Untrue!” I twisted my sword down for a slice across his flank, but he pulled away.

  “I’ve heard Black Knife isn’t as good as he used to be.” Tobiah aimed for my chest, forcing me back a step as I hurried to block. There was no time to flick my little finger at him, because he thrust toward my stomach; I dodged.

  We traded blows, attacking and blocking slowly as we warmed up. The sound of our blades clashing filled the room.

  “I really was looking for you tonight,” he said between blows. “Patrick and the Red Militia—have taken Aecor City. Sandcliff Castle is his.”

  His.


  No, Sandcliff Castle was meant to be mine. Gritting my teeth, I attacked Tobiah’s side, breaking our rhythm. “What happens now?”

  He blocked the stroke with ease. “My uncle rides for Aecor in three days.”

  “With an army?” I attacked his chest, but he parried and moved inside my guard.

  “With an army.” The point of his blade rested at my throat, and neither of us moved. “It’s not ideal, but it’s the decision I have to make as king, and the action he has to take as overlord.”

  “And what action do you suggest I take as the rightful heir to the vermilion throne?”

  “I know what you are. Everyone knows.” He lowered his sword and stepped close, so we were only a breath apart. “But the Indigo Kingdom conquered Aecor during the One-Night War. It belongs to me, and to my uncle, and as much as I want you to have your kingdom, we both must wait.”

  “Until when? Until the barrier is built? Until the wraith has flooded the Indigo Valley? Until there’s nowhere to go but Aecor? I imagine my kingdom will be very useful to you then.” I clenched my jaw.

  His tone softened. “You know that’s not how our Wraith Alliance works.”

  “Then when?” I asked.

  “When we are all ready.”

  “Your uncle will only relinquish the title of overlord when he’s acquired the one he truly wants.” The memory of our conversation at the coronation ball made me shudder.

  “Did something happen?” He searched my eyes and read the truth. “He said something to you?”

  “He doesn’t need Aecor if he has the Indigo Kingdom, does he?” My grip on my sword tightened. “Not that he’d ever give up Aecor. If the barrier doesn’t work, Aecor is too valuable.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He offered Aecor for the truth of your recovery. To malign you.”

  In the long pause that followed, I waited for him to ask whether I’d taken the deal, but he just shook his head. “Then perhaps it’s best he’s going away.”

  Perhaps this was a bad time to tell him I was going away, too.

  Tobiah sheathed his sword and rubbed his temples. “I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me.”

  “I told you I was going to ignore him.”

  “That’s not trust, Wilhelmina.” He took a long breath. “If you think that trusting someone—allowing them to help you by performing their own duties honorably—somehow makes you less, then it might be time to reexamine yourself. Start asking why you need to do everything. How can you really be close to someone if you never let them in?”

  “Forgive me if I find that difficult.” My hand ached from gripping my sword hilt. “It isn’t easy to trust or be close to someone when the person I love won’t even follow his own heart.”

  Oh, saints. I’d said that out loud. And now the words hung between us, heavier than the dust motes of his past.

  His expression stiffened into that proud, bored mask he’d worn as a prince, and he spun and strode toward the door.

  For a stuttering heartbeat, I almost let him go.

  But I took a step after him, and my fingertips brushed his sleeve. We both stopped moving. “I want to trust you. It’s just that everyone I’ve ever trusted has betrayed me in some way. Even”—not you—“Black Knife.”

  He faced me, hair half hanging in his eyes, shadowing them. All the fire of his argument had drained away, and now he was just a boy who happened to be a king before he was ready.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. It wasn’t fair of me to judge you.” He glanced at my hand still on his sleeve, and I jerked away. “I suppose I’m not as deserving of your trust as I thought.”

  Trust me. Forgive me. Tell me. How could he ask so much?

  “I want to trust you.”

  “I want to deserve it.” He shifted his weight toward me and drew his sword, letting a beam of light glance off the flat of the blade. “We have to work together. I know we can. That’s why you’re wearing those clothes. And why I’m still alive. We have the same goals, and if we work together, we can achieve them. Imagine what could happen if we stopped fighting each other and started fighting our enemies. You and me together.”

  My stomach flip-flopped. His sword loose in his grasp was such a familiar sight, the stance and grip and confidence. Only now, his face was uncovered and he was a king, and he’d be married in a few hours. He’d never be Black Knife again.

  He sheathed his sword and sighed. “I know I promised a lesson, and kings should always keep their promises. But I don’t think it would be appropriate . . .” His throat jumped when he swallowed. “Perhaps James would be a more suitable replacement.”

  My heart squeezed, but I pushed down the anguish and resentment and forced a note of aloofness into my voice. “I’m sure he would be.”

  His hand strayed near mine. “Wilhelmina, I am sorry.”

  I stepped backward. “You made a promise to your father. I know.” I withdrew farther, deeper into the storage building. “I’m sure you have a lot to do to prepare for your wedding. Please don’t let me take up any more of your time.”

  He drew himself straighter and vanished behind his kingly mask. “Good night, Wilhelmina.”

  When he was gone, the door secured behind him, I swung my sword around and caught a pile of folded tablecloths. Linen and lace flew into the air as I grabbed tarnished silver candlesticks and hurled them across the room. A pile of plates, a box of wineglasses, a huge serving platter: they all clattered and smashed against the far side of the floor.

  A high keening tore from my throat as I ripped more and more junk off the shelves and from crates. I pushed over shelves and threw boxes across the room, filling the floor with everything that had been shoved aside.

  My arms and legs were shaking by the time I was finished. The room was in ruins, with broken trash strewn across the now-dented floor. Tablecloths lay like shrouds.

  “It helps, doesn’t it? Breaking things.” The wraith boy stood across the room, dark brown hair shading his eyes as he surveyed the wreckage. His skin was brown, and his features knifelike. It seemed his appearance had settled, and he looked too much like me for comfort.

  How had he escaped his closet?

  “Go away.” My voice was hoarse from screaming.

  “A man came to my door last night. He told me you’re sad. Sad. Bad. Mad. How—”

  “Leave!” I hurled a splintering crate at him. “Leave me alone.”

  “Very well.” He sidestepped the crate and bowed low, his tattered clothes fluttering. “What you want is the only thing that matters.”

  Then he vanished, leaving nothing but the odor of wraith and the awful feeling that he’d known I was upset, and had come to help.

  Wraith help. That was one thing I didn’t need.

  TWENTY

  THE BELLS BEGAN pealing at dawn.

  Even in my chambers where I prepared for the wedding, I could almost hear the words that rode on the constant ringing. King Tobiah will save us. The Mirror King will drive away the wraith. King Tobiah and Queen Meredith . . .

  I resisted the urge to cover my ears while a maid plaited my hair into an intricate knot, with tendrils softening the harsh lines of my face. She used cosmetics to conceal the circles under my eyes, and shadow the lids. When she used another powder to highlight my cheekbones she said something about me looking beautiful, but in the mirror, all I saw was my face. And the wraith boy’s face.

  Morning light shifted, and a small lunch was served.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Theresa asked. Her plate was already clean.

  I glanced at mine, still full, and slid it across the table to her.

  With a suspicious frown, she cleaned my plate, too. I turned my attention out the window, toward the clear sky and the seemingly endless forest behind the palace. Evergreens twisted between the cold, bare trees. The mountains were deep blue, with wisps of clouds washing down between them.

  “Try to have fun,” Theresa said
. “I wish the rest of us could go.”

  “I’d send you in my place, if I could.” Since the cathedral was a pile of rubble, the wedding guest list had been slashed. I’d made the cut, but the rest of the Ospreys hadn’t.

  With Sergeant Ferris in close attendance, I made my way to the palace’s glorious chapel. It had the typical dragon regalia, with unicorns added for Meredith. Blooms of blue and violet and ivory dripped from balconies and banisters, with verdant highlights. The scent of perfume and anticipation danced through the room as the guests were seated.

  The memorial had been grand and stately and solemn; the wedding was smaller, but filled with life and hope for the future.

  A footman guided me to a bench near the front. I waited as the chamber began to fill with rustling gowns and coats, and murmuring voices. Next to me, a foreign countess took her seat, keeping a large space between us. A string quartet played by the altar. A bubble of hushed voices formed around me.

  “The wedding was meant to be held in the cathedral,” someone whispered. “But you know what happened to that.”

  “I can’t believe she was invited.”

  I kept my mouth in a line. What would I say to them? That I deserved to be here? That the cathedral collapse wasn’t my fault?

  The last thing I needed to do today was cause a scene.

  “She’s a curse on this kingdom,” someone muttered. “And she’ll curse this wedding.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  Surely they knew I could hear, even over the gentle strings playing nearby, which meant they wanted me to know what they said.

  I glanced over. One of the speakers was Lady Chey, who wore a splendid red gown and a smug expression. A few other ladies I recognized from the solar sat near her, though most of them avoided meeting my eyes.

  Tobiah’s aunts and uncles and mother sat in the row in front of me. The queen mother held herself stiffly, and if she showed any emotion for her son’s wedding day, I couldn’t see it from here. Meredith’s family sat in the opposite row, all of them with their fine blond hair and bright smiles, visible whenever they turned their faces toward the altar.