by Jodi Meadows
“It seems, Your Highness,” James said, “that you owe Queen Wilhelmina your life.”
Prince Colin’s face turned darker. “It seems so.” He tore his eyes from me at last, looking back at James. “It would be wise for you to remember, Captain Rayner, that what Wilhelmina did last night might have appeased the peasants following the traitor, but it wasn’t legal. She is still a ward of the Indigo Kingdom, and Aecor Territory is still a territory. It is mine.”
“Not for long,” I whispered. “They are my people. They always have been.”
“Oh, we’ll make a good show tonight.” His eyes were back on me. “When we ride into the city, it will be as one. A united front. Overlord and queen. Two rulers who care deeply for the well-being of Aecor.”
“You’re afraid they will attack you.”
“With you at my side, I have no need to fear an uprising.” His smile curled up like drawing a knife from a sheath.
My fingers turned white around the reins. “Jump off the bridge and die, Colin.”
He released a sharp laugh and rode ahead, followed by a half-dozen indigo-coated guards.
“I hate him,” I muttered as Melanie returned to her position next to me.
“I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.” She rolled her shoulders and readjusted her seat. “But there is good news: riders were sent ahead. There will be dinner and baths waiting for all of us.”
“Sandcliff Castle has been updated with many of the same modern conveniences as Skyvale Palace,” Ronald added. “Apparently, Prince Colin refused to live there until gas lamps had been installed in every room he might enter, and plumbing in all the kitchens and washrooms, not just in the royal wing.”
I twisted in my saddle. “That castle is seven hundred years old! How could he rip it apart like that?”
The boys shook their heads. “It doesn’t hold the same meaning to him,” said Oscar. “But it doesn’t look as bad as you’re imagining.”
Skyvale Palace was only two centuries old, and updated severely when magic was outlawed. Prince Colin had always had the comforts of gas lamps and hot, running water, as well as a hundred other minor conveniences because of his rank and place of birth. He’d never known an orphanage or run-down castle in the mountains. He’d never been truly hungry.
His privilege didn’t excuse his behavior toward my ancestral home.
“Will you have the lights and pipes torn out?” Melanie asked.
“It’s already done, and we have more important problems to address.”
“Like what to do with Patrick.” Her voice was almost lost under the cry of gulls and hum of wagon wheels on steel. “And what will happen when you return to Aecor City with a small army from the Indigo Kingdom at your back.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
The marvel of being out of the Indigo Kingdom gave way to aching anticipation, and a melancholy note rang on the wind as we traveled the endless bridge.
Steel tower after steel tower plunged into the snow-streaked waves of the bay. At noon, we ate small lunches on our horses, and I listened to Melanie tell stories she’d learned from books in the Sandcliff Castle library, and the boys discuss how the battle had gone, and what certain people would think now that I was back and Patrick was going to prison.
Melanie pointed out Snowhaven Island, clustered in with a number of other islands filled with evergreen trees and water fowl. The bridge was anchored on the southern tip, and soon the convoy blocked my view, so the only thing to watch was the waves.
Finally, as the sun shifted behind us, I saw the pale scrape of land on the horizon, and the suggestion of towers in the south. My heart pounded as my homeland grew on the horizon, the cliffs becoming more solid and real. A lighthouse flashed and soon the end of the bridge was in sight. A pair of guard towers stood on the Aecor side, identical to the Indigo Kingdom side.
I kicked Ferguson into a trot, vaguely aware of James picking up his pace behind me as I maneuvered between riders. A few people shouted for me to slow down or watch out, but when people ahead realized I was coming, they moved out of my way.
Without my urging, Ferguson shifted into a gallop, his hooves ringing across the bridge. Gulls cried and waves crashed. Wind tore at my clothes and howled in my ears, but I was close. So close.
“Wil!” James’s voice came from behind me. “It’s not safe to go so quickly!”
I didn’t care. Ferguson didn’t care.
“We’re almost home,” I whispered. We passed wagon after wagon until we were ahead of the convoy. I could feel Ferguson’s hooves slip on patches of ice, but he kept his footing. Then we were off the bridge.
Onto the dirt.
I reined him in and he slowed to a walk, snorting white clouds into the cold air. My heart thundered in my ears as I dismounted, legs wobbling with adrenaline and disbelief.
James caught up and leapt off his horse. “Wil, are you crazy?” He grabbed my shoulders. “You could have slipped right off the bridge!”
I laughed, high and giddy, and threw my arms around him. My eyes were heavy with tears from cold and wind and wild joy. “I’m home, James. I’m finally home.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE BELLS BEGAN to ring as soon as the convoy started up the winding promontory.
Aecor City sat on a cliff side overlooking the Red Bay, where fishing boats were moored in the harbor. The rocky face glowed gold under the setting sun, crevices shadowed and fluttering with roosting eagles and gulls. Ospreys hunched in their stick nests, watching the noisy approach as the wagons were removed from the old iron tracks, their secondary wheels swung down.
I was home.
Peace had taken me home before war.
The thought swelled in my chest as we headed to the main city gates, carved from stone and reinforced with steel. The osprey sigil, framed by sharp ocean waves, shimmered in the setting sunlight. Enormous towers pierced the purpling sky, with vermilion banners hanging from the parapets. Trumpets sounded, and the gates cranked open.
Home, home, home: the word thrummed in my head like a second heartbeat, distracting. I glanced at James behind me.
“When people came here from across the sea, Aecor was flat. Like any place that’s mostly coastal plains and marshes, it flooded. But the people loved the sea and couldn’t bear to leave, so radiants raised a plateau on which to build the city. Sandcliff Castle is carved from the land below it. It was built of this land, with this land’s magic, and for this land’s people. The keep held my ancestors for nine generations.”
Prince Colin’s smirk slithered onto his face.
Finally, the main gates finished opening to reveal Castle Street, a wide avenue leading up the hill and to the main keep.
People crowded along the sides of the road, lifting small children onto shoulders, while others climbed onto buildings or statues—anything that might offer a good view. Others leaned out windows and filled balconies. Their shouts shook the entire city.
The most prestigious shops lined Castle Street. They were meant to entice and impress visitors. Even now, with the city packed onto the street, merchants waved packets of spicy-smelling food, trinkets, and lengths of cloth. Black-coated police wove between the people, but no one paid them mind.
My heart pounded in time with the rising cry of my name: Wilhelmina, Wil-hel-min-a. The roar made my head spin with giddiness, and not even the gloom of Prince Colin’s stiff figure beside me could dim the fierce pride boiling in my heart.
Behind me, Melanie laughed and added her voice to the chorus calling my name. The Gray brothers roared.
We moved steadily up the road, our guards keeping the people back. Their whoops and applause were thunder in my ears as evening faded into twilight.
Halfway to the castle, the crowd began to shift.
Little by little, they pressed closer. While the people at the gate had been eager to see us—me—I caught a group here shaking fists, and others with signs calling me an Indigo whore and traitor queen.
; “What’s happening?” Prince Colin shouted at his guards. “What are they doing?”
Suddenly Ronald and Oscar were flanking me, their horses pressed so close to mine our knees touched.
“We’ll take you to the tunnels,” Ronald said. “It will be safer.”
“No!” I would not enter my family’s castle like a thief, never mind my criminal history.
“Wil, it’s not safe.” James had kicked his horse ahead of ours, and one hand rested on his sword. “Look, it’s getting worse.”
People spilled into the streets. Police moved to corral them, but were largely ignored.
The jeers crescendoed, with people forcing their way to the front of the crowd. Some hefted clubs or wooden planks. A small, metal object flew through the air ahead of me: a chain link.
Melanie gasped.
“We can’t make it to the tunnels anyway,” I said. The crowd was so thick, impenetrable. People climbed onto the buildings lining the streets to shout from above.
One person threw himself toward the street, but fell short and took down three protestors. The gap closed immediately, trampling the jumper and his victims.
“Saints,” I breathed. My pulse raced as adrenaline spiked. This wasn’t just a protest; this was a mob.
“At least put your head down.” Ronald pressed his hand on my back, pushing me toward Ferguson’s neck. Stiff mane hairs tickled my face. No matter how hard I resisted, Ronald wouldn’t let me up. He leaned his weight onto me, and when I tried to twist my head, he called for his brother’s help. Oscar’s hand fell on the back of my head, heavy.
Cacophony sounded all around, people calling for Prince Colin’s head and the Indigo Army’s surrender. Thousands of voices filled the air, and with the brothers’ hands holding me down, I couldn’t even peek. The only thing I could see was a sliver of road where Ferguson and Ronald’s horse didn’t quite touch. Dirt, bits of metal, and debris were scattered across the paving stones. A patch of red-brown shimmered and splashed, and my small breathing space filled with the odor of blood.
Shouts roared. Our group jostled. Ronald’s hand slipped while Oscar’s fell away.
I pushed myself up to find lines of Indigo Kingdom and Aecorian soldiers surrounding us like a wall of bodies. Those in the front had created a wedge to drive apart the rioters who’d moved into the street. In the uncertain light, I caught glimpses of metal flashing: swords had been drawn.
The din was incredible, making the street tremble. Wood, stale food, and hunks of dirt zipped through the air. On rooftops and balconies, men and women drew bows and daggers.
They wanted to kill us.
The brothers jerked closer to me, and Ronald screamed. An arrow shaft protruded from one arm.
“No, no.” This wasn’t happening. Not here. Not at home. This should have been a celebration.
“Wil! Get down!” Melanie looked like she was about to climb onto Ferguson. If she lifted herself too high, she could be hurt. I started to duck again, but an explosion in the convoy—followed by an ear-piercing shriek—split the air.
“Wilhelmina.”
It came from behind us, overpowering every other voice in the city.
The wraith boy. Chrysalis.
Then the screaming began. At first just one or two people. Then more. Cries for people to run, flee, the wraith queen was angry—
Questions formed on the Ospreys’ faces.
“I need to get up,” I shouted, but no one listened. They were distracted with protecting me.
Panic swelled in my chest, and the more I tried to push it away, the tighter it grew. How had the wraith boy escaped? Unless he’d broken the mirrors, I could think of only one way: he’d erupted through the back of the wardrobe and the side of the wagon. There were no mirrors there.
“Wilhelmina!” His voice was closer, but he’d been in the middle of the convoy. There were so many people between him and me. And he’d kill them. Without thought. Without remorse. He’d kill them and leave me to carry the burden of their deaths.
“Stop!” I screamed. “Everyone stop!” I pushed away from the boys, struggling to unpin my legs from between the horses. “Let me up!”
They wouldn’t listen. Even Ronald—with an arrow in his arm—tried to shove me back down and keep me from harm.
“I need to get up,” I screamed. “He’s coming. He’ll kill everyone to get to me.”
James would agree. He would help me. But I couldn’t find him anywhere.
Another explosion shuddered through the street, and more of the angry screams shifted into terrified. Some of the horses spooked, but the mob wasn’t as easily distracted. Arrows fell from some of the higher buildings, striking guards. Several dropped, making way for the stampede of rioters.
“Let me up!” I heaved away from the boys, away from Melanie, who was twisting to look over her shoulder.
Suddenly, I was on my feet, pushed and knocked around by the horses slowly marching down the street. Boots and knees struck me, but I shoved my way free of the line of horses—out from the protection of the guards.
“Chrysalis!” I couldn’t see him from the middle of the mob, but he had to be close.
Someone grabbed me. I struck back with my elbow and spun to find a man cupping his now-bleeding nose. “She’s here!” he cried, but the words were muffled and awkward. “The queen is here!”
Within moments, they surrounded me. Hands reached. Touched. Gripped my arms and ankles.
“Don’t hurt her!” someone called. “He said not to hurt her.”
Someone grabbed my hair.
I could draw my sword and fight them off, but then what? Kill my own people? Kill the very people I was trying to save from Chrysalis?
From the fore of the convoy, Melanie screamed my name. James did, too. But I couldn’t see them through the crowd. I was trapped. Someone pulled out a rock and drew back to hit me.
My daggers were halfway from their sheaths—the only weapons I could draw in these close quarters—when the man with the rock flew away.
“My queen.” Chrysalis took the man’s place and shoved aside a handful of people who’d grabbed me. The crowd rippled backward, finally realizing who—what—had joined them.
“Wraith!” Screams erupted anew, but there was nowhere for people to go.
“I was coming to get you,” I said to Chrysalis.
He knelt and offered a hand. “I will take you to safety.”
By carrying me? Or . . .
Chrysalis tilted his head and straightened his shoulders. “They grow restless for you, my queen.”
Heart pounding in my ears, I took the wraith boy’s hand, used his forward knee as a stair, and stepped onto his shoulders. When I was faced forward, the skirt of my gown safely behind his head, he stood, one hand clasped around my ankle to steady me.
My cloak fluttered in the wind as I rose above the crowd. People gasped and drew back. They pointed and the panic began to ease.
“Say something,” Chrysalis suggested. “You are their queen and they will never forget this moment, your triumphant return.”
Melanie, James, and the Gray brothers were ahead. There was no sign of Prince Colin or his guards, but he couldn’t have gotten very far in this madness.
And over everything, Sandcliff Castle rose against the darkening sky, interior lights dotting the windows like stars. Vermilion flags hung motionless as the wind died.
“So much has changed recently,” I called as the last of the voices ceased, and everyone waited to hear what I would say. “There has been so much death and destruction. So many battles for control of this city.
“Not ten years ago, my parents ruled Aecor. Some of you remember them. Some of you are too young.” I let my gaze travel over the sea of faces staring up. Men and women. Young and old. Angry and scared. “For nearly a decade, you were made to bow to a foreign king and his brother who called himself overlord. For nearly a decade you endured heightened taxes, drafts to the wraithland, and more.
�
�And then Patrick Lien returned, telling you I was a hostage in the Indigo Kingdom. There was fighting. Another shift in leadership. There was fear because of the unknown. But I am here to tell you not to fear. Because I am Wilhelmina Korte, rightful heir to the vermilion throne, and I have returned to Aecor.
“I was not a hostage in the Indigo Kingdom, but an honored guest as I negotiated for my return to power. As I negotiated for my return to you.”
Someone was crying. Others pushed forward to hear better. Chrysalis’s hand tightened around my ankle as he began to move toward the castle.
“I don’t blame you for your reaction as I return with Prince Colin at my side. But know this: I am your queen. And I will care for you. I’ve come with representatives of the Indigo Kingdom—my friends and advisers—but Aecor will not be under Indigo Kingdom rule much longer. Nor will you live under Patrick Lien again, wondering if the frightening things he tells you are true, and if the terrifying things he does will affect you next.
“This morning you were ruled by a tyrant. Tonight, your rightful queen returns, and I promise you this: I will protect you.”
A low cheer rolled through the crowd as Chrysalis and I reached the front of the convoy. Melanie and James hopped off their horses to make way for me, but it was unnecessary. No one wanted to get too close to the wraith boy. The threat was gone, for now.
Then, the chanting rose up again.
“Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina. Wil-hel-min-a.”
I glanced over my shoulder. An ocean of eyes looked up at me, some with tears making them shine.
Our procession moved through the gates of the inner curtain and finally the castle rose above me, blocking out the sky.
Melanie and James helped me off the wraith boy’s shoulders, and we all crossed the vast courtyard with wild, untended gardens, quiet fountains, and elegant but crumbling staircases that led to the main doors.
It was to the thunder of my name that I stepped back into Sandcliff Castle for the first time since the One-Night War.
