Patrick leaned on his fists and focused on me. The scar over his eyebrow stood out stark and white. “There’s one more thing I want from your time in the palace.”
I waited.
“A map. I want to know which windows lead to which rooms. I want to know where the armories are, where guards are stationed, and even where King Terrell sleeps at night. I want to know everything about that place, that way, if your disguises are compromised, we can come and get you.”
I’d want a map for myself, too, so making a copy for him wouldn’t be trouble. “Consider it already done.”
“Good.”
He wanted me to write a report every three days, gather information, plant false information, free drafted soldiers, and draw a detailed map while disguised at all hours because I was living in the palace of my enemies. It was amazing Patrick didn’t want me to stop the encroaching wraith while I was at it.
He tapped the documents in front of me. “How do these look?”
“They’re close.” I motioned at a smudge of ink where someone had tried to conceal a mistake. “That . . .”
Patrick’s voice deepened into a growl. “Close isn’t good enough. They need to be perfect.”
“Presumably, we’ll have traveled for leagues across the wraithland.” Melanie’s tone was placating. “Our papers won’t have survived the trip in perfect condition.”
Patrick frowned, but acquiesced. “Finish these, then. We’ll put them in the envelope and leave them outside with the rest of the supplies.” He pushed himself straight and paced toward the other side of the room. Everyone watched him, as though he were magnetic and their compasses declared him north. “I’ve gotten word of an army supply caravan leaving Skyvale in one week. It’s heading for Aecor.”
Quinn’s breath hitched. This was the other mission, the one Patrick had said was for her. I lowered my pen.
“Quinn, you will take Ezra and Ronald. You will identify what supplies exactly are being transported, and ride with the caravan until it’s four days out of the valley. Then you will take whatever measures you think wisest and halt the wagons. Bring back whatever is immediately useful to us, and hide the rest. We’ll need it when we march to Aecor to prepare for the anniversary.”
“I can do that.” Quinn lifted her chin and smiled.
“That is a risky mission, Patrick. Are you sure Quinn and Ezra are the best for this?” I asked. The siblings glared at me, and Melanie winced.
“Everything we do is a calculated risk,” Patrick said.
My voice strained. “Quinn is good, but she’ll have to look after Ezra. His first mission was only last night, and a glowman nearly killed him. This isn’t safe. We could all go if we postpone the palace mission another week.” We’d gone from nineteen to twelve people thanks to jobs like this. I didn’t want to lose more.
“The glowman didn’t kill me, though. I can do this easy mission.” Ezra crossed his arms.
Quinn’s glare was deadly. “We can do it.”
Patrick shook his head at me. “They’ll be fine. We can’t put off the palace mission any longer. The anniversary of the One-Night War is approaching. I want us to be in Aecor before winter is over, so that we can take back our kingdom on the day this all started.”
“I realize we have a deadline,” I said, “but I’m not willing to unnecessarily risk our lives.” I cast my gaze around the group. “Those who vote we postpone the palace mission and send more experienced Ospreys, raise a hand. Those who vote Quinn, Ezra, and Ronald go, raise a fist.”
Quinn, Ezra, and Ronald raised fists immediately. So did Patrick, Paige, and Oscar.
I lifted my hand. Connor did, too, of course, and Theresa followed a moment later.
“Carl? Melanie? Kevin?” I lifted an eyebrow. If they sided with me, we’d be tied.
Kevin raised his hand, voting with me. Carl glanced between Connor and Ezra, his two best friends, and heaved a sigh. “I would like to abstain.”
“You can’t,” said Melanie. “Everyone votes. But”—she glanced at me—“it doesn’t matter either way. I vote Quinn and Ezra go. Ezra needs the experience. Ronald and Quinn will look out for him.” She raised a fist. Seven against four and an abstainer. “The only way they get experience is by sending them out there, Wil.”
“Fine.” I flicked my little finger at her and smiled like I didn’t mean the gesture, but no doubt she could see the truth.
I might have been the future queen, but here, in the Ospreys, Patrick was the leader. Every time we disagreed and the decision was put to a vote, Patrick got what he wanted.
Theresa had once explained it by saying it wasn’t so much that I lost as Patrick won. It was hard to deny him.
At least I’d always been able to count on Connor to vote with me, even when it meant he voted against his best friends.
“Moving on,” Patrick said. “Ronald, pass the map. I’ll show you all the route the caravan is taking. . . .”
Quinn smirked and returned her gaze to Patrick.
Trying to ignore the tightening in my chest, I focused on the residency papers once more. I added the signature of the priest who supposedly witnessed my birth in Liadia. Fortunately, the sample we had to copy from was still clear and sharp, and recent enough that he could have witnessed both my birth and the birth of some duke born five years before me.
She had been a real person, this Julianna Whitman, the girl I was impersonating. She was my age and her general description fit mine as well, but I’d chosen her because as far as I knew she’d never visited the Indigo Kingdom.
It seemed very morbid, going around with a dead girl’s identity.
Melanie was doing it, too, though she was able to use her real first name. We’d found evidence of a girl named Melanie Cole who’d probably come into contact with Lady Julianna a few times. They would be best friends now.
“We need those supplies.” Patrick’s attention stayed on Quinn and Ronald, while Ezra sat bouncing in his chair, excited for such a dangerous mission. “Our return to Aecor may depend on our having them.”
Everyone nodded solemnly; their rapt attention never left Patrick. I finished my work with the residency documents and moved them aside, then let my gaze slide toward the open window where cool light filtered in through the sand-speckled glass.
Far beyond the horizon, past the piedmont and the plains and rivers—past the dirt and cobble roads our prison wagons had bumped over almost ten years before—lay Aecor, a home only a few of us remembered. A home we wouldn’t recognize when we returned.
Aecor was my responsibility, but how could I rule a kingdom when I couldn’t even lead the Ospreys?
THE FIRST WINTER in the old palace was awful. In spite of all our stolen clothes, blankets, and the fireplaces we’d cleaned and lit, the ancient castle was always freezing. The wind blew constantly.
One morning while the other Ospreys were cleaning or looking after the youngest children, Patrick summoned me to the common area, where the big table in the center of the room was covered in stacks of paper, jars of ink, and wooden boxes with rusty latches.
My breath caught at the scribal bounty. “Is this for me?”