AN ICY BREEZE fluttered through my bedroom as the clock tower struck four.
Darkness moved on darkness, and I was out of bed with my daggers drawn, every piece of my body groaning in protest. “Announce yourself or I’ll kill you.”
“I’m sorry.” It was Black Knife. The prince. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Everything startled me now, but I didn’t want to tell him so. I just sheathed my daggers and dragged a blanket from the bed to wrap around my shoulders like a cape. My nightgown afforded little in the way of modesty. “I should be apologizing to you.”
In the far corner of the room, the prince was a motionless black shape. Only the glint of moonlight on polished leather boots and the slither of silk on silk gave him away. He’d dressed as Black Knife to come sneaking over the rooftop, just as I’d done. My heart squeezed.
“But I don’t think there’s any way to properly convey my regrets.” I glanced toward the light switch, but this was better in the dark. It was easier to think of him as Black Knife and not the prince. “I’m afraid of the wraith boy. I don’t know what he is, or how to stop him, and I’m terrified of what he’ll do next.”
Black Knife crossed the room, a shifting heat and presence. A gloved palm cupped my cheek, hesitantly. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”
“You’re the only one.” It took everything in me not to lean into his touch; he was warm and solid, and like this he was my friend. But he was also Tobiah, and meant for someone else. I pulled back, and he let his hand drop to his side. “What about the memorial?” I asked. “Will it affect your ability to take the throne tomorrow?”
“I had the memorial completed in the palace chapel last night. It was small. Private.”
“That’s for the best.”
“There was no choice. My enemies would have protested my enthronement otherwise.”
Another apology sat on my tongue, but I couldn’t make it emerge. I’d almost cost Tobiah his crown. “Do you have many enemies?”
“Everyone here has their share. Worry about yours, not mine.” He spoke kindly, though he shifted away from me. “Tell me why you want a mitigation committee meeting called.”
I pulled my blanket tighter around my shoulders. “The wraith boy thinks we have no time at all before the wraith floods the Indigo Kingdom, and because right now, after the Inundation and the cathedral collapse, the committee will need to listen and explore every option available.”
“Then let’s do this right. List every point you want to discuss. Give me warning so that I can help.” He sounded like the prince, but nothing could break the spell of this boy in those clothes. The way he moved, and the way he wanted to do what was right: those were qualities I’d grown to admire in Black Knife. “I think you’d go rushing into this with your convictions and good intentions, but one of the more difficult lessons I’ve learned about politics is patience, and planning, and knowing that no matter how good you are at both of those, there’s always someone who’s better and willing to go further. Unfortunately, my uncle is very good at it.”
“I don’t need to be rescued from Prince Colin—”
“I’m not trying to rescue you, but I am trying to help you succeed. There’s a difference.” He moved to the balcony window. “You have a hundred enemies, Wilhelmina. Thanks to your magic, the wraith boy, your various identities, and your connection with Patrick Lien, there’s a lot going against you.”
Did I have anything going for me?
“Let me help you, Wil. You don’t have to do this alone.” With that, he was out the window, a black blur on the balcony, and then gone.
He was right. I did need to plan the committee meeting, just as I’d have planned anything with the Ospreys. I needed to understand what actions would get me the results I wanted, take all variables into consideration, plan for possible counteractions. I needed to strategize.
Perhaps politics was not so different from revolution after all.
By design, I was last to the meeting.
Theresa was at my heels, still looking like a refugee who’d stolen a noblewoman’s burgundy gown. No matter how she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, she never quite managed the mask of confidence she needed. But she’d been in the palace only a few days, and already everything had gone wrong.
Having Theresa here wasn’t the same as having Melanie, but it was better than being alone.
Sergeant Ferris opened the committee chamber door, and when I strode inside, the buzz of conversation fell away. Every face turned toward me, most with crafted neutrality, others with open dislike.
Theresa paused just behind my shoulder, and Sergeant Ferris let the door fall shut as he took his place with the legion of bodyguards along the wall.
“Your Highness. Welcome.” Tobiah offered a small, polite bow from where he stood at the head of the table. He was the prince today, with that dry, dull tone I’d disliked so much, but now that I knew to look for it, I could see the fraying seams of that mask. In his eyes, in the jump in his throat, and even in the way his frown softened when our eyes met. “Lady Theresa, please take a seat.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Colin pushed himself up, leaning heavily on the table. “What are those two doing here? It’s one thing for the queen regent and your fiancée to join us, but them? Aecorian thieves?”
There were a few muffled agreements around the table, coming from behind fist-covered mouths and down-drooped mustaches. I knew Captain Chuter, Generals Frederick and Adam Goldberg, Francesca, and Meredith, of course, but there were several new faces.
“This is most irregular,” offered one of the strangers. “What with His Highness’s coronation this evening. There’s so much to do today. . . .”
Tobiah stood with his hands behind his back and addressed his council. “Princess Wilhelmina is the reason we’re here today. I called this meeting on Her Highness’s behalf.”
“What an outrage!” Prince Colin strode around the table, toward Tobiah. “Her participation was not appropriate when she was masquerading as Duchess Julianna of Liadia, and it is even less appropriate now.”
“I believe,” I said, “this is Crown Prince Tobiah’s committee. It is for him to decide whose presence is appropriate.”
Someone in the back gasped. Meredith’s eyes were wide and bright, while Theresa smirked. Even Queen Francesca looked pleased.
Tobiah stood straighter and glared back at his uncle. “When Her Highness was here as Julianna, I acquiesced to the demands that she be excluded from the meetings. I did not know who she was, or whether anything she said about the wraithland was true. But now we do know her identity, and I do know that she has been to the wraithland.” He glanced at me and nodded.
I pulled a pair of Liadian barrier scales from a pouch at my hip, and tossed them onto the center of the table. Everyone in the room gasped.
“As for the coronation this evening, you’re correct, Lord Craft. This is irregular, but important. And since we all have a lot to do today, I suggest everyone sit down and listen to what Princess Wilhelmina has to say.” His gaze cut around the room. “If anyone is opposed to listening to Her Highness speak, they can leave now.”
No one moved, except Prince Colin, who went back to his seat, and gradually, my heart migrated out of my throat and back to my chest. This boy was meant to be king.
“Very good.” Tobiah moved to help Theresa into her chair near Francesca and Meredith. The queen regent offered a delicate nod, while Meredith touched Theresa’s arm in a comforting gesture.
Theresa relaxed, and gratitude filled me. After everything, Meredith still treated us with kindness.
Tobiah guided me to the head of the table. “I’ll make quick introductions to the members you haven’t met, and then we’ll begin.”
I nodded.
“Lord John Price, House of the Sun; Lord Samuel Craft, House of the Unicorn; and Count Alexander Davis, House of the Sea. They are the official representatives of the other three Houses. My uncle is here as the representative of Dragon.”
Ah. Now that he’d said their names, I recognized them by reputation. They were all minor lords, no one important.
Tobiah turned toward me. “Let’s begin with your time in the wraithland.”
“Can we surmise this will be a different tale than the last we heard?” Clint’s words were harsh, but his tone was not cruel.
“Quite.” I pulled out my notes, each point written in a different hand and color of ink to help organize my thoughts. “There are a number of topics I’d like to discuss, beginning with my journey to the wraithland, and why I decided to go there in the first place.
“Until I attended my first meeting of this committee, I had no intention of ever venturing into the wraithland. To me, the wraith was a distant threat, not as pressing as my desire to ensure Aecorians’ safety, and reclaim my kingdom.” I avoided looking in Prince Colin’s direction. “It was my experience with this council that made me realize the wraith was not as far away as I’d always felt, and that something must be done. And when I saw this map”—I gestured toward the wall—“everything changed.”
The guards in front of the wall map shuffled aside to reveal the inked planes and mountains and valleys, and the bands of color that represented the wraith’s approach each month.
“Those two words—debated and confidential—inspired me to search for the truth about whatever this committee had been hiding about Mirror Lake.” Choosing my words carefully, I told the group about chasing rumors, joining the merchant caravan, and stealing into the wraithland on a borrowed horse. I told them how I’d fought glowmen, learned to sleep only a few hours at a time, and ventured deeper into the wraith than anyone had in decades.
I pulled a section of papers from my stack and handed them to the queen regent. “Please take one.” As the papers went around the table, I said, “These are copies of the notes I took during my journey. I wanted to be thorough, so you’ll find details about the weather, vegetation, and wildlife.” Nothing personal, though. There were too many things I didn’t want to share with this group. “Especially important are my notes on Mirror Lake.”
Tobiah lifted an eyebrow. “When did you make all these copies?”
“This morning. I couldn’t sleep.”
Smiling faintly, he shook his head. “Please continue.”
So I did. I told them about the locust swarm, what I’d done to save myself, and how the wraith boy had been created. “My power isn’t supposed to do that. I temporarily animate objects, but I never give real life. I haven’t yet figured out what was different this time.”
“Is it something you could do again?” asked John Price. “If you brought the wraith to life and we just explained to it—”
“Don’t be stupid.” Adam Goldberg banged a fist on the table. “You saw the creature last night. If Princess Wilhelmina hadn’t been there to stop it, we’d all have died.”
“If Princess Wilhelmina hadn’t been there,” corrected Prince Colin, “the wraith boy wouldn’t have been, either.”
That was true.
“We’re getting off topic.” Tobiah held up a warning hand. “At any rate, that was one of my first questions, and the answer is no. Animating that much wraith could kill Wilhelmina.”
“And before anyone suggests my life is worth sacrificing for this, keep in mind that I don’t know what will happen if I die while in control of something, especially something as unpredictable as the wraith.” I glanced at Prince Colin, whose eyes were narrowed and flinty. “My mother was an animator, too, and her mother. I’ve heard stories of animated knitting or pens that fell lifeless once more when the flasher died. If that happened while the wraith boy, or any other animated wraith, were here in Skyvale . . .”
I gave them a moment to recall the Inundation: the chaos and screams and crack of shattering glass.
“At any rate,” added Meredith, “what would it say about us as a people if we were to sacrifice someone like that?”
The queen lifted an eyebrow. “The saints died for our salvation.”
“Yet Princess Wilhelmina is not a saint.” Meredith pressed her hands to her mouth. “That was rude. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged off the comment. Of course I wasn’t a saint.
We needed to get back on topic. I glanced at my notes and cleared my throat. “With what I learned in the wraithland, and what I learned about the wraith boy last night—”
“When last night?” Prince Colin’s eyes narrowed. “As he was bringing down one of our most iconic and beloved buildings, risking thousands of lives?”
Several people frowned. Theresa glared like she’d murder him. “The only person who endured true harm last night was Princess Wilhelmina. She’s the one who acted quickly enough to ensure we all survived.”
“One cannot hold Her Highness responsible for every action taken by others.” Meredith folded her hands over the papers in front of her.
Their defense of me was nice, but unnecessary. “I spoke to the wraith boy once I awakened.”
Captain Chuter leaned forward, a pen poised over paper. The sharp, straight lines of his handwriting drew my gaze for a second. “What did you learn?”
“He is terrified of mirrors.” I glanced at Tobiah. “That is to our advantage.”
“All the mirrors in Skyvale are broken,” said another. “How does that help us?”
“After the Inundation, Skyvale is filled with people who need work. Create jobs by opening the factories to produce as many mirrors as possible. Pay people to gather the biggest shards from the streets, and have them pieced together. Then you’ll need people to hang the mirrors, and have them transported all along the western border of the Indigo Kingdom.”
“That’s your solution?” General Adam Goldberg shook his head. “That is not enough, Your Highness.”
“It’s not a solution,” I said, “but a mitigation effort. Something this council should be very familiar with.” That brought a few snorts of repressed laughter, and even the queen regent looked amused. “Not only that, this is something we can do right now. It will help the city recover from the tragedy of the Inundation.”
“And the city does need help,” said Tobiah. “We must do what we can to protect it.” The crown prince heaved a long sigh. “We also must prepare evacuation routes, to be safe. Parts of the Indigo Kingdom are already suffering the wraith’s effects.”
Mutters of unease rustled around the room.
“Discussing evacuation routes is bad for morale, I know. Nevertheless, pragmatism is necessary.” He left no room for argument. “Moving along: Princess Wilhelmina, there’s one more item on your list.” Tobiah lifted his dark eyes to mine.
“Yes. Thank you.” I took a sip from my wineglass. “I think we should turn the committee’s attention to the Liadian barrier once more. I’m not suggesting sending anyone else out there; I hope the information I collected will be enough, once paired with the official reports from Liadia.”
“What are you suggesting?” Clint asked.
“Mirror Lake was completely normal: the life inside it and above it. And when the locusts swarmed, I observed several dying as they flew over the lake, like the wraith had been removed from them all at once.”
The chamber was quiet, save the scratch of pens on paper, and someone’s rattling breath.
“My parents—and monarchs before them—refused to sign the Wraith Alliance, a stance that has baffled the allied kingdoms for a hundred years.”
No one spoke.
“The rulers of Aecor wouldn’t sign something they had no intention of obeying, and they didn’t want to be prevented from finding answers in unlikely places. Like magic.”
Clint shook his head. “Magic causes wraith. How will it stop it?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But my parents firmly believed there was a way. So did Liadia; they broke the Wraith Alliance to build the barrier, and for a little while, they succeeded. They held back the wraith for a year.” I gestured toward the barrier scales still sitting in the middle of the table. “And a lake now littered with pieces of that barrier is a more formidable ward against the wraith than I’ve ever seen.”
Protest erupted across the room. Someone pounded on the table with each inarticulate point he made. Around the perimeter of the room, bodyguards looked to their charges, a few masks of professionalism slipping at the display. James caught my gaze, offering a slight roll of his eyes.
The outrage continued for a full minute before Tobiah rose and stood at my side. “Silence!”
Everyone turned to look at him.
“You can’t be serious about allowing this kind of talk.” Prince Colin’s glare cut to me. “It was only a month ago that you were certain not using magic at all would stop the wraith.”
“A month ago, I did believe we could stop the wraith by ceasing all magic use. I believed because that was what I was taught, as were all of you. Since then, however, the Inundation has come, and it was Wilhelmina who stopped it from completely destroying the city—by using her magic.”
“It was also Wilhelmina who caused the Inundation,” muttered someone down the table, and no one argued.
“Regardless,” I said, “wraith is already in the Indigo Kingdom. This is no longer tomorrow’s problem. It is today’s.”
“I don’t see how we can trust Her Highness’s intelligence on anything, given her history.” That came from a man sitting close to Prince Colin.
“You don’t have to trust her. Trust me, because today I am your crown prince and tonight I will become your king, and I trust Wilhelmina.” Tobiah shifted his weight toward me; his elbow brushed mine. “Now, if you’re all finished yelling . . .”
Eyes turned toward him again.
“Here’s what we know about the Liadian barrier: every flasher in the kingdom was forced to pour their magic into it, presumably while the metal was still molten, before they were shaped into scales and pieced together. We have details on the construction of their barrier, though it doesn’t list magic as one of the ingredients.”
Of course it didn’t.
“I’m open to discussion of creating a barrier of our own. It could hold back the wraith an extra year, giving us a chance to find a more permanent solution.”
“We’d still need flashers,” said Clint. “Unless you plan to use only Princess Wilhelmina. And given the punishment for using magic in the Indigo Kingdom, I can’t imagine others stepping forward.”
Certainly I wouldn’t volunteer Connor’s magic.
Tobiah shook his head. “The barrier was a kingdom-wide effort—”
“Which,” Lord Craft added, “they hid from the rest of the allied kingdoms, going so far as to send a false report. We should ban the remaining Liadian refugees from the Indigo Kingdom. They should all be arrested and forced to leave.”
“And where would they go?” asked Meredith. “Our world grows smaller every day.”
Lord Craft’s tone was dark. “Send them back to the wraithland they helped create.”
“No.” I curled my hands into fists. “That’s a death sentence.”
“Well,” Prince Colin muttered, “they certainly aren’t going to Aecor Territory.”
I turned to him, keeping my voice deep and even. “Aecor is my kingdom, and when I am in control of it, it will be a safe haven for flashers and refugees alike. Should the wraith one day overtake Skyvale, even you will not be refused shelter in Aecor.”
Meredith shot a tiny smile of support, but the rest of the room fell into death-like silence as Prince Colin stood and strode around the table, and finally stopped in front of me. He was taller, and broader, and so close I could feel his breath stir the air between us.
For a heartbeat, I was back in my room the other night when he’d been there. In the dark. Waiting for me.
My whole body shuddered with the memory as Prince Colin smirked down at me, a silent reminder of his threats.
“You don’t intimidate me,” I hissed.
Without a word, he turned and left the room. A pair of bodyguards went after him.
A quiet murmur filled the room, and it took everything in me not to slump with relief.
“I suppose the meeting is adjourned,” said Tobiah. “We will reconvene tomorrow to further discuss our own barrier. But effective immediately, I want those evacuation routes planned, and I want mirrors covering Skyvale once more. There will be no more removal of the homeless from the city. Everyone—foreign and domestic refugees alike—will be invited into the city and given jobs. We need those mirrors.”
The council members stood and offered their farewells, and soon began to trickle from the room. Francesca and Meredith were among the first to go, their heads bent together in soft discussion. “Over lunch, let’s discuss how we’ll decorate for your wedding ball. Your parents are meeting us at noon, correct?” The rest of the conversation fell under the buzz of other voices.
Tobiah warmed my side, barely a respectable distance between us. “You did very well today.”
My smile was shaky, but he pretended not to notice. “I’ll bring it up tomorrow, but I had an idea about where to get magic to fuel a barrier.”
Tobiah’s eyebrows raised. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Perhaps you’ve heard that when wraith beasts die, a white mist flows out of them.”
“Yes.” Of course he knew. It was with Black Knife I’d first seen this phenomenon. “It’s wraith, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s something a little closer to magic. On my way to West Pass Watch, we fought a giant scorpion.” He’d been there, of course, but I couldn’t chance anyone knowing that. “When it died, the mist split and went into certain people—flashers in hiding, if I had to guess.”
Tobiah’s lips parted as he put all that together. He’d seen the mist go into me the night we fought a wraith cat together, but he’d had no way to know that wasn’t normal. It was unlikely he’d ever killed a wraith beast in anyone’s presence before. “I see,” he said at last. “You think we could harvest the necessary magic from wraith beasts.”
“I think it’s worth investigating, and perhaps offering a sizable reward for either the captured mist or live creature.”
“That would be dangerous, holding the creatures in the city.”
I nodded. “Perhaps a facility outside the city.”
“Indeed.” A faraway look fell over his eyes: he was already forming a plan. “I’ll have someone look into it.”
There was no doubt: Tobiah Pierce was meant to be king. Unfortunate aspects of his princely mask aside, he knew how to behave and make decisions. He knew how to reward people who earned it, and scold those who deserved it.
He would be a good king.
I offered a faint curtsy. “I’ll see you at this evening’s coronation.”