THIRTY-TWO
MY BODY ACHED as I approached the gloomy old castle. The bag strap dug into my shoulder, all my belongings weighing me down. Clouds covered the sky, leaving the world in heavy, palpable blackness. The wraithy wind that blew in from the west bore breaths of freezing and destruction.
I had to hurry.
I whistled the four-note signal as I walked through the outer curtain, a hulking, mossy shadow in the darkness. While I waited for someone to disarm the traps around the state apartments door, I knelt and groped through my bag. Black Knife hadn’t lied when he’d said he found all my things. There was the shape of my notebook, my grappling hook and line, my daggers, and several other weapons. Even my stolen sword.
“You’re a pretty poor vigilante these days, Black Knife,” I muttered as I hooked my weapons to my belt and slipped my other supplies—lockpicks, matches, a coil of silver wire—into my pocket. “Though I suppose you probably paid for my sword.”
For a whole three heartbeats, I entertained the image of an ink-cloaked boy approaching a terrified blacksmith, flinging money at the counter. But I remembered our inevitable war, Lady Meredith, and magic: things that would always come between us.
“Wil?” Melanie’s voice came from the doorway. Candlelight flickered as she shoved the stick at someone else, and boots thudded on the ground. Her arms wrapped around me, squeezing tight. “Wil, you’re safe.”
All my aches forgotten, I hugged her back and breathed in the familiar scent of my best friend. “I was so worried about you.”
“You too.” She squeezed and stepped back, holding me at arm’s length. “What happened? I got out of the palace, but couldn’t get back in without being spotted. There were so many guards. I waited around for a while, until I heard they caught Black Knife—a girl—and that she’d killed the king, and she only got caught because she went back to kill the prince, too.”
Who made up these rumors?
“I’ll tell you everything later. But first, there’s something I have to say to everyone. Are the Ospreys all here?”
“Yes.” She grabbed my bag and leaned into me again, voice low. “It was Patrick. You were right.”
My stomach tumbled, and I wished I didn’t know Black Knife’s identity. Then I wouldn’t have cared as much that Patrick had killed Tobiah’s father. Though I had no love for King Terrell, my feelings toward his son were . . . immeasurably different. Immeasurably complicated.
I dragged my gloved fingertips over my daggers as Melanie led me to the state apartments door. Connor waited there, wide-eyed and pale.
“Wil!” He thrust the candle to one side and hugged me with his free arm. “I was so worried. You stopped writing to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Pretending I didn’t hear his hiccup and sniff, I smoothed back his hair and whispered, “I missed you, too. Have you been strong?”
He gave a stiff nod. “Even when I thought I couldn’t be, I made myself strong. Looking at your old notes helped.”
“Good.” I kissed the top of his head, too exhausted and relieved to hold back affection. “I’m proud of you.”
On the way into the common room, I met several other Ospreys. I traded embraces with Theresa, Oscar, Ronald, Carl, Kevin, and Paige, and finally, as I entered the common room, lit with a roaring fire and candles all around, I found Patrick staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Welcome, Wilhelmina.” He didn’t turn around. The fire threw splinters of light and shadow across his back and the short crop of his hair. The set of his shoulders said he was displeased, and again I wondered if a dead queen was easier to fight for than a defiant one. Was he disappointed I’d been set free?
“You assassinated Terrell.”
Patrick turned his head, giving a view of his sharp profile. Light flared, casting his eyes deeper into shadow. “He deserved to die.”
“We’re not murderers, Patrick.”
He said nothing.
“Was this your plan all along?”
Patrick turned and strode around the table. Behind me, the Ospreys scattered into groups of two and three, closer to the hot fire or to the opposite side of the room. “Your mission was more than you knew, Wilhelmina. Yes, I wanted the soldiers freed, the locations and information, and a map of the palace, but anyone could have gotten those. Why do you think I sent you to the palace when I could have sent Oscar or Ronald as soldiers or lords and accomplished everything you did without that detour into the wraithland?”
Behind me, Theresa gasped and whispered, “She went to the wraithland?”
“Hush, Rees,” muttered Melanie.
Patrick wasn’t finished. “Sending you was always a risk. You’re going to be our queen. If they’d discovered your identity, everything would have been for nothing. But I sent you because you deserved to take revenge for what he did to our families.”
He said it as though he’d tried to do me a favor by asking me to kill someone.
“You intended to assassinate King Terrell all this time,” I whispered.
“I intended for you to do it, but when you betrayed the Ospreys that night in the Peacock Inn—”
“You killed someone, Patrick.” My heart pounded in my ears, deafening, and my fists ached at my sides. “You went behind my back to kill someone because you knew I didn’t approve. You hid the truth because you knew it was wrong.”
“You should be happy.” He made his voice a growl. “Terrell was responsible for the fall of Aecor, and now the Indigo Kingdom will be in chaos while the throne changes hands. This is the perfect time for us to reclaim Aecor. The Indigo Kingdom is in ruins: one ruler murdered in his sleep, and now a city on the verge of collapse. I’ve seen the refugees fleeing. They say a wraith beast is coming, that it’s shouting your name.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“How did that happen, Wil?”
As if I would ever tell him anything again.
“Regardless, we can use this to our advantage. Imagine what they’ll say now.” Patrick advanced, his glare unwavering. “Even the wraith knows of Wilhelmina Korte’s right to the throne. Even the wraith wants the Indigo Kingdom punished for what they did to her.” He drew a deep and steadying breath. “Wilhelmina, your army is waiting for you.”
Wind tore at the castle; somewhere above, a loose board creaked and banged.
“We’ll leave Skyvale tonight,” said Patrick. “All of us. We’ll return to Aecor and gather our army. We’ll strike the Indigo Kingdom when they’re most vulnerable.”
I relaxed my hands at my sides, let the tension fall from my shoulders as I strode across the room toward the dark windows.
“For almost ten years, the only thing I’ve wanted was Aecor. Patrick”—I turned to find him watching me, confidence shining in his eyes—“you made me believe that Aecor would be returned to us one day. You inspired me to work hard, to become something no queen has been before: a warrior. And for all these years, I thought I’d be willing to do anything to take back my kingdom.”
The eight other Ospreys around the room shifted, looking between Patrick and me with wide, round eyes. I couldn’t remember ever fighting with Patrick in front of them—at least not before the night in the Peacock Inn when he told me Quinn and Ezra had died. Only Theresa, Connor, and Melanie had been present then. Now, all that remained of the Ospreys watched.
I addressed all of them, too. “Recent events have opened my eyes. I’ve become aware of lines I will not cross, not even to take the vermilion throne.” I drew a shaky breath and pulled myself straighter. “I will not murder. I will not sacrifice my own people for a mission. I will not use people and let them suffer the consequences of something I did; I will take responsibility for my own actions.”
Patrick stepped forward. “Wilhelmina—”
I lifted a hand, cutting him off. “Patrick Lien, you have given us years of service. You rescued us from the orphanage. You found food and shelter for us. You trained us. But your methods can’t be ours. You lead rebellions, not kingdoms. Leadership of the Ospreys must shift.”
Rustling and whispers sounded around the others, but Patrick just stared at me without expression. “What do you propose?”