The Glowing Knight
Author: Jodi Meadows
Date: 2015-09-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult; Novella; High Fantasy; Fiction; Magic; Young Adult Fantasy; Short Stories; Mystery; Epic Fantasy
Description: Skyvale faces problems worse than anyone realizes. Secrets are building. Enemies are everywhere. Told from the perspective of Tobiah, the crown prince with a dangerous secret, and set two years before the heart-racing action of The Orphan Queen, this 100-page digital novella brings to life one of Jodi Meadows's most beloved characters. Tobiah Pierce is ready to break free of his princely role—he's sick of the bodyguards that always trail him and is uncertain about the new girl at court, Meredith Corcoran, who his parents keep pushing toward him. When Tobiah's beloved tutor seems to be embroile
Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books

CONTENTS

1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight

9. Excerpt from The Mirror King

1. Three

2. Four

10. Back Ads
11. About the Author
12. Books by Jodi Meadows
13. Copyright
14. About the Publisher

Guide

1. Cover
2. Contents
3. Chapter 1

i
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
ii

ONE

JAMES WAS DOWN there fighting.

I was not.

And this was what jealousy felt like.

“He’s very good, isn’t he?” Lady Meredith Corcoran fanned herself with a tiny contraption of silk and lace. It looked pointless. She wasn’t exactly sweating, but her pale face was flushed with heat, even in the shade of the box reserved for the royal family and guests.

The box sat at the top of the stands, enclosed on three sides. Dragon banners hung over the doors on either end, motionless. One of the footmen by a door appeared to be praying for a breeze as he poured a glass of chilled wine and took it to my father, who sat in a cushioned chair at the top row of the box, Mother to his left, and the Corcorans to his right. Aunt Kathleen sat next to Mother, but she was only half here while the others engaged in a low conversation about the trays of fruit sitting on the table nearby.

“Your cousin, that is.” Lady Meredith smiled and fanned herself faster. “He seems to be one of the best fighters down there.”

“He is, my lady.” The stands around the tournament field were packed with hundreds of nobles, and spotted with blue uniforms where off-duty Indigo Order soldiers and officers watched the cadet trials. Voices rang out, calling encouragement and insults to the contestants, forcing me to lean close to hear Lady Meredith. “If he wins this round, he’ll move to the finals tomorrow. He’ll fight not other cadets, but officers.”

“And if he wins?”

I could feel my father’s eyes on the back of my head. Mother’s, too. Both of them urging me to converse with Lady Meredith, make her like me, and like her back.

There was nothing disagreeable about Lady Meredith. She was good-hearted and pleasant, and pretty enough to turn heads, especially with that golden hair she kept twisted into a coronet. But how was I supposed to focus on her when my future was being decided down there with James?

No, that wasn’t why I was irritated. It was that every time I looked at her, I found myself wanting to make her smile or laugh. It was alarming how easily she could steal my attention.

“If he wins the match with an officer, he’ll have his choice of duties once he’s finished training this fall.” Which was exactly why this was so important. I needed James to win so that his superiors would believe he was fit to guard me.

Below, James ducked a swing aimed to take off his head. The crowd gasped and Lady Meredith drew back, her hands flying to her chest. “Saints! What if Cadet Rayner hadn’t been quick enough to evade that?”

I applauded as frantically as manners allowed. “That swing was announced so obviously that missing it would have meant James shouldn’t be here today.” Anyway, James was good at anticipating others’ moves—a favorable trait for a potential bodyguard—and it was one of his biggest advantages in these trials.

“Incredible,” Lady Meredith breathed. Her cheeks flushed pink with the day’s heat.

“Yes.” I grinned and leaned forward to watch James thrust his dulled tournament blade toward his opponent, a tall, muscled boy about the same age as James and me. His black hair shone with sweat. “That’s Eric Matson he’s fighting,” I said.

Lady Meredith didn’t take her eyes off the match. “I don’t know his family.”

That wasn’t a surprise. They were some of the lower nobles, with little land outside their Hawksbill home. Most ended up joining the Indigo Order. “They’re distant relatives of the Chuters, and rather new to the city themselves. I believe they arrived shortly after your family returned to Hawes.”

“I’ve missed so much in my time away.”

“I’d be happy to show you around, and tell you all the gossip, if Lady Chey hasn’t already.” I seemed to have a slice of free time lately, while Professor Knight was recovering.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

We were silent as James began another attack, feinting and cutting, driving Matson back. Their swords flashed in the noon sunlight.

“Matson is good, too,” I said, as he lunged to defend. “At this stage in the trials, they’re all good. But he’s weaker on his left side and knows it. Watch how he guards it more.”

“Ah, yes. And that leaves his right side exposed.”

“Exactly.” Just then, James struck low on Matson’s right leg. The dulled blade—tournament regulations—hit with an audible thwack on his armor, and the audience roared, many thinking the match was done. But it wasn’t a killing blow, so the two continued around each other, with points in James’s favor.

“This is so frustrating!” Lady Meredith beat her tiny fan harder, just pushing the hot air around the stuffy box. “How long can this possibly go on?”

“Until one is ‘dead’ or someone reaches ten points. Killing blows are ten points.” I added James’s in my head. “He has seven already: four for the strike against Matson’s leg, and three for evading that blow earlier.”

“Saints. I just want Cadet Rayner to win!”

I was inclined to agree, but with my parents sitting directly behind me, I didn’t want to risk them overhearing how badly I needed James’s victory. After the debacle at my birthday party last week, it was likely I’d be stuck with the current troop of guards for the rest of my life, but if I could also have James—that would be better. Then I’d always have a friend.

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I watched James slash and parry and wait for Matson to leave an opening. The crowd grew quiet, everyone focused on the pair in the ring.

James struck, likely finishing the battle—but brown-and-gray-dashed hair, a professor’s coat, the faint “Sorry, excuse me” caught my attention away. Professor Knight? Last I’d heard, he’d been on bed rest, with a royal physician attending him every day.

Lady Meredith surged to her feet along with everyone else, clapping and shouting with enthusiasm I hadn’t expected from her.

I was on my feet, too, but scanning the crowd for Professor Knight. That had been him, I was sure of it. But now he was lost in the press of people cheering for James, who stood in the center of the ring and sheathed his sword. His face was bright with exertion and the attention of hundreds of eyes, but he bowed toward my family’s box and grinned wide enough that no one would ever know he’d been nervous.

“The match goes to James Rayner!” The announcer’s voice boomed from the ground, and the applause roared louder. Eric Matson stood off to the side, clapping too, though a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. Anyone would be upset to lose, but surely he hadn’t expected to win against James; James was the best.

Even as my chest swelled with pride for my cousin, my eyes fell back to the place I’d seen Professor Knight. I’d been dying to talk to him about what happened during my birthday party, but of course I hadn’t been permitted to visit him. Father was afraid I’d interrogate him and try to blame Hensley for the burn again.

But now he was out in public. Surely no one would disagree if I wanted to see how my favorite professor was feeling a mere week after a terrible attack.

“Excuse me,” I said to Lady Meredith, and pushed myself out of my chair.

“Tobiah?” Father’s warning tone stilled me. “Going somewhere?”

I paused halfway to the door, not quite managing the look of innocent surprise I wanted. “Yes?”

Mother and Aunt Kathleen were looking on, as well as Lord and Lady Corcoran.

“Where are you going?” Father’s gaze didn’t leave mine.

I lifted my chin and forced confidence into my voice. “I just saw Professor Knight and I’m going to speak with him. As you can imagine, I’m relieved that he’s recovered enough to attend the tournament today.”

Father’s eyes narrowed, like if he squinted just right, he could see what I was really up to. “If that’s so, he’ll be recovered enough to attend your lessons tomorrow. Stay here with Lady Meredith. It would be rude to leave her.”

“Oh, I don’t mind if he wants to speak with his professor.” Lady Meredith smiled warmly at me, but stopped when she noticed Father’s scowl.

Mother and Aunt Kathleen bent their heads toward the Corcorans’, as though none of them were curious about the outcome of this battle.

I glanced where I’d seen Professor Knight, itching to run away. But if I disobeyed Father now I’d be in more trouble later. Anyway, he was right. I’d be able to talk to Professor Knight tomorrow.

Trying to suppress a frustrated glower, I returned to my seat next to Lady Meredith.

“Is something wrong?” Her voice was low so our parents wouldn’t hear.

“Of course not.” I smiled, but as the crowd settled again and the next match was announced, I finally had a clear view of Professor Knight. And the man next to him.

Lord Hensley.

They sat unusually close, Professor Knight nodding at whatever Lord Hensley was saying. Their voices were lost under the hum of so many people, but the two looked . . . not quite friendly, but not as antagonistic as I’d imagined, considering last week.

I leaned forward, not that I could hear anything. When Knight looked directly at Hensley, he wore a polite smile. “I’ll do it.” At least, that was what it looked like he’d said.

Hensley’s face was harder to see, so I couldn’t catch his response.

“Midnight,” Knight said, with the look of someone repeating something, or confirming.

As a new set of fighters moved onto the field below, Hensley and Knight pulled away from each other. When Hensley stood, he pressed his hand against Knight’s shoulder.

Knight startled and went still. Hensley stared down for a long moment, and then, apparently satisfied, picked his way across the row, toward the aisle, and moved out of my line of sight.

“That looked uncomfortable,” Lady Meredith said, just loud enough for me to hear. When I looked at her, she lifted an eyebrow. “Those two are why you’re frowning, right? Your professor and Lord Hensley?”

She was sharp. And I needed to work on my mask.

“I’m sure it was nothing.” I forced my frown away. “I believe our families are having dinner together tonight. I hope you memorized all of James’s moves, because he’ll want to know what you think about every one of them.”

“Oh indeed.” Lady Meredith sat back and smiled. “I paid careful attention.”

As the next match began, I turned my eyes to Knight once more. He was alone, none of those surrounding him bothering to engage him in conversation. Everyone was more interested in the fighting.

What had they been discussing? Knight had promised to do something. Father claimed Hensley was working for him. Could it all be related?

But what about the burn? The suspicious exit?

I had no doubts there was a flasher who could burn things—and I was pretty sure, no, certain, that was Hensley—but why burn Knight? Or the pre-wraith gallery in Rayner Manor?

I didn’t even know if Knight’s burn and the Rayner Manor fire were connected.

But I meant to find out.

TWO

THE TRIALS LASTED another five hours, with the final matches scheduled for the following day. It was perfect timing, really. A sudden storm blew off the western mountains and sent all the nobles scurrying back to their homes.

After changing into a suit that wasn’t soaked with rain and sweat, I headed to the private dining room in the Dragon Wing. The thrum of rain on walls and windows filled the palace. Lightning flared white across the sky, silhouetting trees and mountains for a blinding second.

My parents were already at the table, with Aunt Kathleen and James, the three Corcorans, and Gerald and Georgiana Hensley.

I hesitated only a moment before taking my seat between James and Lord Hensley. “Good evening.” I kept my voice light, even as I cursed Father for the seating arrangement. He hadn’t forgiven me for last week, so he was forcing me to sit next to the man I’d insulted. Maybe he hoped I’d apologize.

Unlikely.

Lord Hensley bowed his head. “Your Highness.”

As Father gave the blessing, I glanced at all the bent faces around the table. Did Aunt Kathleen know that she was dining with Lord Roth’s murderer? Probable murderer? And how did James feel, with just me between him and the man who killed his beloved stepfather?

Father and Mother didn’t know, or if they did they weren’t doing anything about it, and I couldn’t believe that. Father despised magic as much as anyone, and if he’d known, Lord Hensley would be in prison now.

As for Lord and Lady Corcoran, I doubted they had any knowledge of Hensley’s nefarious nature. They, along with Lady Meredith, arrived in Skyvale just recently, though I remembered them all from a visit years ago. Lady Meredith had scolded me for announcing my intent to forego clothing for the rest of my life, unless my opinions on style counted for something the next time I went to the tailor. Lady Meredith had been disgusted with me, but I’d finally gotten clothing I liked.

I couldn’t tell whether she remembered that.

Anyway, the real question was whether Lady Hensley knew that her husband was a flasher. And if so, did that make her an accomplice? Or another victim?

As the prayer ended and everyone lifted their eyes, I stuffed down the seething hatred. How could anyone use magic when the wraith was slowly destroying the entire world?

“I was quite impressed with your performance this afternoon, Cadet Rayner.” Meredith smiled sweetly as the first course was served. Crab puffs and cheeses graced the dainty glass plates.

“Thank you.” James stabbed a puff and ate it whole; I understood the impulse. After exercising all day, these tiny portions were teases. “My opponents were all more than worthy. It’s an honor to ascend to the next bracket.”

Lord Hensley leaned so he could look around me and smile at James, but the expression came off more predatory than anything. “Indeed, there were many fine swordsmen, but you were the clear best, Cadet. I was impressed by your skill.”

“We’re all very proud.” Father took a sip of wine and exchanged a quick, guarded look with Mother.

Aunt Kathleen, if she noticed all the praise for her son, didn’t look up from her untouched plate. James cast her a quick frown, but didn’t say anything; he’d stopped expecting anything from her two weeks ago.

Thunder rolled outside, causing the windows to tremble in their frames. Wind sang around the palace as the conversation turned toward speculation.

“It seems the storms are getting worse, doesn’t it?” Lord Corcoran glanced toward the window, where rain lashed against the glass.

“I think so.” Lady Meredith rested her hands in her lap, and a servant whisked away her half-empty plate. “I don’t recall the storms being quite this severe last time we visited, and Chey Chuter says that her friend in the west reported the most powerful storms she’d ever heard of when they last wrote. I’m certain the wraith is affecting us too, even from this distance.”

I risked a glance at Hensley, but if he felt guilty for his use of magic, he didn’t show it. He just accepted the next course—soup thick with vegetables and spices—with a slight nod at the servant and began eating.

James lifted an eyebrow. “Unfortunately it seems to me there’s not much we can do to halt the wraith’s approach, but there’s plenty we can do to mitigate it. Firmer laws on magic, perhaps.”

“The laws are already quite firm.” Mother stirred her soup. “And the punishment even more so.”

“What is the punishment?” I kept my eyes on her, not looking at Hensley or James.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about right now. And certainly not a topic appropriate for dinner.” She smiled and turned to Lady Corcoran. “What did you think of the crab puffs? I asked the chef . . .”

I glanced at Lord Hensley. “Did I see you with Professor Knight during the trials?” I asked.

“You did.” Hensley’s eyebrows rose. “I was so pleased to find him moving about after his mishap last week.”

His mishap. As if he’d tripped and bumped his head. “Indeed. I’m looking forward to discussing it during my lessons tomorrow. I feel partly responsible since I’m the one who found him.”

And left him, said Father’s sharp look.

“I truly hope the police apprehend his attacker.”

“As do I. To think, attacked in Rayner Manor, of all places.” Hensley shook his head. “I suppose even our own homes aren’t as safe as we hope; isn’t that right, Cadet?”

James’s face darkened, but if Aunt Kathleen noticed the remark, she didn’t react. “My thought,” said James evenly, “is that the perpetrator was already at the party. Which is embarrassing to admit, since I wrote the guest list, but there were a lot of people invited due to rank or connection. As awful as I feel for Professor Knight, however, I’m just grateful no harm befell my cousin.”

“Indeed.” Hensley’s tone turned grave. “I suppose that would have put a stop to your designs of becoming Prince Tobiah’s bodyguard. What a shame that would have been.”

Was there a threat in there? Maybe I heard things because I didn’t trust him, but maybe . . .

James heard it too.

His eyes were hard and his voice deeper than usual. “I assure you that even without the formal title, I put the prince’s life above my own every time we’re together. There is no one I would not kill if it meant keeping him safe.”

Mother and Lady Corcoran paused their conversation. “James.” Mother’s tone was sharp.

James didn’t look away from Lord Hensley.

Lady Meredith held her spoon halfway to her mouth, then lowered it. “Your devotion to your cousin is admirable, if perhaps frighteningly stated.”

After a heartbeat of realization, James sucked in a breath and smiled. “My apologies for alarming anyone.” He bobbed his head toward Lady Meredith.

Mother glanced at Father, her eyes narrowed with . . . what? Anger?

Rain pattered on outside as more courses were served, and talk turned to lighter subjects. Renovations of Hawksbill houses, Aunt Kathleen’s upcoming return to Hawes—a conversation in which she did not participate—and even Lord Chuter’s affinity for his dogs and the hope that they might be trained to sniff out shine in the city.

“What a clever idea.” Lady Hensley leaned back as a plate of sugar-covered pastries was placed in front of her. “And these dogs—could they be used for finding the people who use shine, as well?”

“Presumably,” I said, “though I imagine a man who used shine in the last several days smells quite different than his stash. So the police might need different dogs for the various tasks. I’m not sure. I’m hardly an expert on the subject.”

Father sat back in his chair, not even looking at his dessert. “I’ll be sure to speak to Lord Chuter about it. Of course I’m interested in anything that will help put a stop to the plague of shine. And that new variation.”

“Firefly, I believe.” Lord Hensley released a long sigh. “Such a shame, what people are willing to put into themselves. It’s such a waste of life.”

Finally, the meal came to a close and James and I excused ourselves, stopping by my rooms to grab our training gear. We had to go over every one of today’s bouts in detail, and work out how he might have disarmed his opponent more quickly or blocked a particularly tricky attack.

By the time we started down the grand stairs in front of the palace, the storm had faded and the sun dipped toward the horizon, its honeyed light shining beneath the line of black clouds. The sky turned molten gold and every mirror in Hawksbill illuminated with reflected glow.

The heat had broken, leaving the evening cool and damp. Rain-glazed paving stones gleamed.

The training building loomed ahead, a big block of a structure. It wasn’t quite disguised into beauty with carved designs representing the four houses and stylized knots that had been all the fashion two hundred years ago. My guards entered first, checking for danger, as always. The room was safe, of course, but even practice needed to be supervised by the best men in the Indigo Order.

Gaslights hissed overhead as we stomped the water from our boots and tossed our bags by the wall. On the far end with mirrors, our reflections moved with us, reminding me of the night I’d spotted Hensley by noticing him in the mirror.

Maybe I could learn to use that to my advantage—if I could learn to keep out of the mirrors myself.

I snorted a laugh as I stretched my arms across my chest.

“What?” James frowned, echoing my movements.

“Nothing.” I glanced at the guards. “Why don’t you wait outside? Get some fresh air.”

“We’re not supposed to let you out of our sight.” Stewart didn’t move. None of them did.

“There’s only one door, and you’ve already cleared the room. Anyone who wants to come in and kill me will have to go through you.” I frowned. “Anyway, it’s not fair for you to watch James practice before tomorrow’s matches. You might be his opponents.”

“We’ve been watching you and Rayner practice for years. Nothing you do tonight will change anything tomorrow.” Thomas crossed his arms and smirked. He was definitely fighting James tomorrow.

“Fine.” I moved deeper into the room, away from the guards. James followed, and we drew our practice swords. “The mirrors made me think of last week, and trying to stay out of view.”

James pulled his sword, too. “Do you think that’s a skill you’ll need to pick up?”

“Need or no, it’d be a handy skill to have.” I raised my voice to a normal volume and held my sword at guard. “Ready?”

James mirrored my movements. “Born that way. Let’s start with the match against Cadet Harvey. You be him. I’ll be me. I want to figure out how he almost disarmed me.”

“All right, then I attack first.”

We practiced that way for two hours, until both of us were satisfied James was prepared for tomorrow morning’s bouts.

Exhausted, but pleased with the day’s progress, we returned to my apartments in the Dragon Wing. But just as we stepped into the parlor, the thud of footfalls in the hall made me look back.

Thomas scowled into the hall. “What is it?”

“I’d like to speak with Prince Tobiah.” Professor Knight had never come to see me in my quarters, but I’d know his voice anywhere. I signaled James to wait and sheathed my sword.

“Send him in,” I called.

I was ready for answers.

THREE

PROFESSOR KNIGHT STRODE across the parlor, his boots clomping on the rugs. “You two smell like sweat.”

“And here James and I thought we smelled rather pleasant today.” I smirked and motioned for him to sit, and then, somewhat hurriedly, waved the guards to take their places in the hall.

This, at least, was one place they wouldn’t shadow my every move. I didn’t like the idea of a quartet of heavily armed men standing around while I slept.

When the door shut with a low click, I turned back to Professor Knight. “How are you feeling?”

The thick pad of bandaging made his sleeve tight, but when he glanced at the injury, he shrugged it off. “Better, thank you.” His chair creaked as he leaned back. “The physicians have done everything they can and the rest will just take time to heal. But there shouldn’t be a scar.”

“Thank saints.” I grinned and sat across from him. “Everyone knows how vain you are.”

He chuckled and turned to James, who was leaning against the table. “I had the pleasure of watching you fight earlier. You did quite well, as far as I could see. Everyone says you’re the favorite for the top positions this autumn.”

James bowed a little. “That’s kind of you to say, but I know I made mistakes today. I won’t make them tomorrow.”

“Good, because I’ve put some money on you winning. Don’t let me down.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“I hope you’re returning to classes tomorrow, Professor.”

“Indeed, I’ll be in our usual room at the usual time. But that’s not what I came to discuss.”

“Oh?” Finally. Maybe I could get some answers without even having to ask the questions.

“This won’t take long. I have errands to run before I return to the Academy.” He paused, as though regretting saying that. “I wanted to ask what you saw the night of your birthday party. Every detail.”

I knew a test when I heard one. He wanted me to agree it hadn’t been Lord Hensley who’d attacked him, but I wasn’t going to lie.

I covered my hesitation by pretending to be distracted by the ticking of the mantel clock. “Ah, well, I’m sure you’ve already heard about that.”

“Everyone knows that you had Gerald Hensley arrested and brought before your father.”

My face went hot at the memory.

“I’m more concerned with what you actually saw. You didn’t see the man’s face while he was in the house? Or after?”

“No, unfortunately.” Not that me seeing his face would have made a difference. I knew it was Hensley. “What about you? Any idea who he was?”

“I’m afraid not, though I’ve been assured that the Indigo Order is doing their best to find him. I’ve given as complete a description as I’m able, but that’s as much as I can do.”

“So you don’t think it was someone from the party?” I asked, and glanced at James.

“Oh, certainly not. I’d have been able to identify them.” Professor Knight leaned one elbow on the table, not quite managing to look casual. “I have to say, Tobiah, while I’m touched that you went to such lengths to apprehend my attacker, I’m a little embarrassed that it was Lord Hensley you caught. Of course he would never do anything to harm anyone.”

I wanted to ask how long he’d been practicing that denial, but that probably wasn’t the best way to get real answers. “What were the two of you talking about during the tournament this afternoon?”

Knight scowled. “You, of course. He knows we’re close and was hoping that I could persuade you to apologize for the allegations.”

“Lord Hensley doesn’t seem like the kind of man who requires an apology in order to live a satisfying life.” I didn’t add that apology-seeking wasn’t what Hensley had told me they discussed.

“I think you underestimate his respect for you, Your Highness. When you accused him, you hurt him quite deeply. Plus, his peers look at him differently. If you do not respect him enough to apologize for a simple mistake, why should they respect him at all?”

“Ah. I see. Well, I’m afraid I cannot offer an apology, as it would be insincere.” It was a risk, but I said it anyway. “I’m still quite certain it was Lord Hensley who attacked you. I saw the way you flinched when he touched your shoulder this afternoon. And when I saw him at dinner, he said he’d simply wanted to inquire about your health.”

Knight’s expression turned stormy. “Of course he wouldn’t admit to you that he wanted an apology, sire. And as for this afternoon, I think anyone would be jumpy when they were attacked just a week ago.” He shook his head. “I’m disappointed. I hoped you would see past your biases.”

“And I hoped you would be honest with me.” The words were out before I’d considered the wisdom, but I wouldn’t feel guilty. He’d been my professor for years and I’d always believed he’d never lied to me. He’d told me about his history of shine use, how he’d gotten into it, and why he continued. All the things I’d thought were the darkest parts of him.

But he wouldn’t tell me the truth about his attacker when I might be the only one who’d believe him? The lie made me question everything he’d ever told me.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Professor Knight’s face closed up as he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll let you get prepared for bed. I need to go.”

“Why was Hensley leaving Hawksbill that late at night?” I stood, too.

“He’s working for your father. Of course. And I’m certain that if Hensley’s business was any of yours, your father would have told you by now.”

Knight marched through the room, not waiting to be dismissed from royal presence. Not that royal dismissal meant that much to me, but the insult in this neglect was clear.

I glared after him until he vanished out the door. My guards shot interested looks, but I let the door shut before anyone could get too nosy.

“That was harsh,” James muttered.

“Him or me?”

“Both.” James nudged me with his elbow. “Don’t let his jabs get to you. He’s scared. That’s why he said those things.”

That was true. He was scared of Lord Hensley. I’d seen that much this afternoon. Midnight, it had looked like Knight repeated. After I’ll do it.

Professor Knight had said he needed to run an errand. An errand for Hensley?

It was dangerous. Maybe stupid. But I know it was right.

I turned to James. “I’m going to follow him.”

FOUR

“WHAT’S OUR PLAN?” James asked. “How are we going to get from here to wherever Knight is going? We have no idea where his errand could take him.”

“Hensley was trying to leave Hawksbill when I followed him last week.”

James counted items on his fingers. “One, there’s no reason to believe that means Knight wants to leave Hawksbill tonight. And two, that makes the problem of getting to him even more difficult. How are we going to get past the gate guards? Scale the wall?”

I’d never scaled anything in my life, but now that he mentioned it, that did seem the best way to get into Thornton. Not that I had anything useful for scaling walls.

“Tobiah.” His tone was all exasperation. “I’m the last person who’d tell you to ignore this situation, but we don’t even know how you’re going to get out of this room without your guards tailing you, let alone out of Hawksbill. Maybe it’s time to send the police after him.”

“Sending the police after Knight won’t solve the problem with Hensley. We don’t even know what the problem is yet. Not the whole thing.” I mimicked James’s posture and counted on my fingers. “One, Hensley threatened and attacked Knight, and we don’t know why. But tonight is our best chance to get that answer. Two, Hensley might have killed Lord Roth, but again we don’t know why. And three, Hensley is a flasher and until we find irrefutable proof of that, he’s going to keep getting away with using his magic because police don’t go after noble lords.”

James wrinkled his nose. “Having more numbers than me doesn’t make you right. What you’re proposing is vigilantism.”

“I don’t think so. I’m a prince. This is my duty.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that investigating criminals and sneaking around to gather evidence are the actions of a vigilante, not a prince. Princes have people to do the sneaking for them.”

“If you insist that’s what I am, I suppose that’s what I’ll be.”

“We.” James straightened his shirt.

I cocked my head. “We?”

“Obviously I’m going with you.”

“Oh no, you’re not.” I stalked toward him. “Me. Not we. You’re going to be a member of the Indigo Order. You can’t go around breaking the law.”

“You’re a prince. And you have an Order uniform, if I recall.”

“It’s ceremonial. I didn’t earn it and they won’t kick me out if I’m discovered. But you will be punished if you’re caught, so I’m forbidding you to join me.”

James’s mouth dropped open. “You forbid it?”

A shard of self-loathing sliced through me. I’d promised myself I’d never use that word with him. I wouldn’t order him around. He needed to have a choice to follow me, always.

“I’m sorry.” The words tasted like ash, because I wasn’t going to rescind the command. He had too much to lose, and I could not lose him.

“It’s fine.” He shook off my harsh words. He didn’t know how much I hated myself for them, though. “Well, if you’re going to do this, I’m going to make sure you do it right.”

I faked a grin. “I knew you’d come around. First I need a disguise. If Knight happens to see me, I’d rather he not recognize me.” I threw open the nearest wardrobe and inspected the contents. Fine shirts, jackets, and trousers. Suits for every occasion. The next wardrobe held more of the same. How could I have so many clothes with various purposes, and none of them remotely appropriate for sneaking?

“That’s the first rational thing you’ve said. So, a mask?” He wandered toward one of the bookcases where I kept trinkets Mother insisted would hold emotional value one day.

“I don’t have a mask. What am I going to do? Cut eye holes into stockings and put that over my face?”

“Your head is too big. What about this?” He picked up a metal mask I’d worn to a costume ball two years ago. It was a ghastly looking thing, with hollow eyes and parted lips, meant to represent the saint whose face had burned in a fire. Saint Fade Christopher had been so horribly disfigured he was forced to wear a silver mask as he went about the land performing his good works. Over time, the silver tarnished and he asked his disciples to polish it. But he’d worn the mask for so long it stuck to his face; removing it killed him immediately.

I never quite understood why he didn’t remove it and clean it regularly, but when I asked, teachers insisted that wasn’t the point of the story.

“It looks like a mask to me.” James tossed it to me. Sacrilegious, probably, even if it was only a reproduction meant for costume.

I pressed the mask to my face, silk ties dangling below my shoulders. “Do I look dangerous and mysterious?”

“You look ridiculous. But if you insist on going, you need a disguise, and this will do.” James motioned at my training clothes. “Wear those for now. They’re loose enough to move in and they’re nothing particularly memorable. You’re aiming for anonymity.”

“There’s nothing anonymous about the mask.”

“It’s all there is for now. We’ll find something more practical later, if you need it.”

He was right. Practical and anonymous. Those were two things I needed if I was going to keep Professor Knight from knowing me, should he spot me tonight. And if I was going to scale the wall, I needed tools of some sort. A line.

I looked up at the curtain pulls.

Not ideal, but I needed something now.

Quickly, James and I moved through my room, dismantling objects where necessary. The curtain pulls. A C-shaped handle from a wardrobe door. We altered an old sword belt into a crude baldric, meant to hold my sheath against my back. If I was climbing, I didn’t need a sword hanging at my hip, banging on thighs.

“I’ve been thinking about the best way to get out of here.” I adjusted my shirt under the baldric until there were no wrinkles to rub and cause blisters where the leather straps fell.

“Yes?” James took the mask from the foot of my bed where I’d left it.

“I’ll rappel straight down from the balcony.” I jerked my head toward the curtained doors.

James snorted a laugh. “That’s three stories. And have you ever rappelled in your life?”

“You don’t think I can do anything, do you?” How did he think I was planning on getting off the wall once I climbed up?

“I think you’re very good at doing that thing with your hair.”

I started to comb my fingers through my hair, realized maybe that was what he meant, and grabbed the mask instead. “Even if I was to get past my guards out there, I’d be noticed right away by anyone else. There’s no way I’m getting out of the palace through the front doors.”

“What about the servant doors?”

“What servant doors?”

“The same ones I use to leave the palace when I don’t want to be delayed.” He motioned toward the balcony. “If you really want to do it that way sometime, then practice first, and make sure you know the guard routes so you don’t get caught. But for tonight, try to avoid falling to your death.”

“And how am I supposed to get past the guards?”

“You won’t. I’m going to lead them away for a while.”

“How?”

“By becoming you.”

FIVE

TURNING JAMES INTO me wasn’t that hard.

He was roughly the same size and shape, so unless my guards spent much time memorizing my figure, they wouldn’t notice the difference as long as James kept his face covered.

Wearing one of my suits, dark blue with gold embroidery around the sleeve cuffs and collar, James pulled a brimmed hat over the back of his head and pressed a handkerchief to his nose so that only his eyes were visible. “Do you recognize me?”

“You look just like that prince fellow if he had a terrible cold. Very handsome, in a sniffly sort of way.” I wished there was something more we could do about his hair—his was cropped short where I kept mine long—but a hat was the best solution for now. “Remember, don’t meet their eyes. Just storm past and keep them busy. Hopefully they won’t realize their mistake.”

A minute later, James was out the door.

I held my breath, waiting for the guards to see through the disguise, but the only sounds were boots thumping on the floor. One of them grumbled that I was ruder than usual.

Then they were gone.

I allowed myself a grin as I put on the silver mask and opened the door just a crack.

The hall was empty. At least as far as I could tell. The eye holes of the mask allowed me to see straight forward, but it killed my peripheral vision.

My heart raced as I took one step out of my room. Then two. The door fell shut behind me.

I was alone.

Wonderfully, spectacularly alone. No guards. I wanted to revel in the feeling of no eyes on me, no judgment and no expectations, but this was hardly the time or place. James could be discovered any moment.

Keeping my steps quiet on the braided rug, I turned in the opposite direction James had taken my guards. Lamps kept a cheery glow down the line of mostly unused apartments, leading the way to a discreet door at the end of the hall.

The wooden door was the same rich shade as the walls around it, with only a faint line of space marking its presence. Even the handle was hidden; a hollow fell behind one of the carved dragons that flew the length of the wall. There was a small lever inside, and pulling it made the door swing open.

I glanced over my shoulder before stepping onto the small landing and pulling the door shut behind me.

Only a few gas lamps lit the interior, just another part of the illusion. With the hall bright enough, no light from here would shine through.

“Clever,” I whispered, and turned left to set a course down the ramp, letting one hand breeze over the banister.

The ramp ran along the palace wall, and was wide enough for a meal cart to be wheeled up, which answered a question I’d never thought to ask: how had servants managed to get their carts up the stairs?

Apparently there was a lot about the palace I didn’t know.

I reached another landing shortly, and then another on the ground floor. Without opening the door, there was no way to see who was in the hall, but there was also no time to waste.

Aiming for confidence, I pushed open the door and strode out—right into a maid polishing the mirrors.

She yelped and jerked back, first taking in the mask over my face, then the sword strapped across my back, and finally the curtain pull looped over my shoulder. She thought I was a burglar.

Before I could even consider whether to identify myself, she flicked her polishing cloth at me. It stung my throat, then dinged off my mask, and at that point I realized perhaps I should run.

I turned and fled, gripping my curtain pull tight against my side. The wardrobe handle banged against my ribs as I careened through the halls.

Behind me, the maid shouted for guards. “Intruder! Burglar!”

Adrenaline spiked through me. I passed one intersecting hallway. Two. I turned a corner at the very back wall of the palace and stopped, chest heaving and breath rattling so loud I could barely hear the guards coming for me.

But there was supposed to be an exterior door around here and if I didn’t find it, I’d be arrested, then discovered, and then I’d have bodyguards sleeping in my bedroom with me.

“Calm down.” My voice had a metallic echo behind the mask. “Breathe.”

I counted backward from ten as I scanned the walls, searching for a hidden door like the one upstairs.

Boots pounded through the halls, as fast as my heart pounding in my chest. The door had to be here. James was never wrong. Well, hardly ever.

“You there! Stop!” The guards had turned the corner, swords already drawn so they could cut me down more quickly.

Maybe there was a spring panel I needed to push. Frantically, I began shoving at the wall, but if there was a spring I couldn’t find it. No give in the carved wood panels. No telltale click.

The guards were just a few paces away. There was no more time.

Just then, the heel of my palm scraped over a sharp cut in the wood. Another handle like upstairs, just better hidden.

I pulled the catch and swung open the door, and without bothering to look at what waited for me, I darted into the sticky night.

The guards chased me. Of course.

I ran at full speed, hoping my eyes adjusted to the dark and pockets of light before I crashed into something—or someone.

Outbuildings littered the space between the palace and the game forest beyond—all good hiding places, if I had time to hide. But not only did I have to follow Knight, I had to figure out where I’d follow him from.

No time to doubt myself. I surged across a stretch between the door and the nearest outbuilding, tempted to pause there and wait for them to pass. But no, the gardening storage was too obvious. Instead, I put on a burst of speed and whipped around the northeast corner, then took a hard right toward the next building. A flagpole, sans flag, rested on the ground nearby.

The door was unlocked. Thank saints. I slipped inside and drew the door closed. Breath rattled through my chest as I fought to restrain a panicked laugh. Chased by my own guards. Not mine mine, but guards who answered to my family, nonetheless.

Footfalls slammed by. Paused.

Quickly, I glanced around the room. It was dim, but enough light shone through the windows to reveal the hulking shadows of storage shelves and crates, and enough floor space for a fairly energetic sword fight. Bits of crumbling wood lay scattered. At least, I hoped it was just debris, not dead animals.

As I feared, the guards had figured out where I’d gone. The door pulled open and light splintered in across the dusty floor, but as silently as I could, I knelt and grabbed a piece of shattered plate—or a cockroach shell; it was hard to be sure—and stayed low. Where I crouched beside the hinges, they couldn’t yet see me.

I forced myself to breathe soft and even, and as the men began to peer into the building, I tossed the plate shard toward the back of the room.

“There!” They thundered by me, deeper into the dim storage building, and I slipped out, shutting and barring the door with the flagpole braced under the knob.

It wouldn’t take long for them to get free; already, the door rattled and the flagpole shifted.

I sprinted away. I’d given myself a head start, but it wouldn’t be long before they caught up.

SIX

I TOOK TO the shadows as soon as possible.

Until now, I’d never realized just how many places there were to hide in the King’s Seat: in the shadow of the palace, between outbuildings, and behind statues of saints and long-dead Pierces. I darted from one black shadow to another, quickly heading out of the King’s Seat and into Hawksbill.

I headed toward the Bome Boys’ Academy, where Knight had an apartment like all the other professors. Maybe he hadn’t left yet. Wherever he was going, he needed to be there at midnight. That was an hour from now.

Silence pushed around Hawksbill as I hurried on, trying to stay ahead of the guards. My biggest advantage, at least that I could guess, was that they’d assume I’d either go back to the palace to finish the job, or head straight for the wall to make an escape.

Then again, it turned out I knew much less about palace security and servants than I’d previously thought.

Hopefully James was faring better.

Hawksbill was knots of streetlights and dark pockets between. I kept to yards and forced myself to pause—listen for voices or footfalls—whenever I came to an intersection I needed to cross. And every time I saw a lamp burning by the road or on a house, I was tempted to step into the sphere of light. But that was the prince in me, who’d never considered the need to hide in the darkness.

With the curtain pull growing heavier on my shoulder and the silver mask still hampering my vision, I sneaked past the Chuter home, the small but very ornate Roberts Chapel, and Manily Plaza, where I’d attended several outdoor plays. Lights shone in a few mansions, but many were already dark. Ahead, too, where the large box of a school rose above the wall and houses and trees, lights burned in the northern wing: the student dormitories. They must be up late studying. Jealousy simmered in me.

There were still several buildings between the school and me when I spotted him. Professor Knight was swathed in a large coat, in spite of the summer heat, and his heels thunked on the paving stones as he made his way down the road that led to the Hawksbill gate.

Which meant if I wanted to follow him once he got to Thornton, I needed to get out of Hawksbill first.

I adjusted my grip on the curtain pull and aimed myself for the nearest section of the wall.

“Good evening, Professor.”

I paused behind a tree, holding my breath as a guard approached Knight, and the professor bobbed his head in greeting. He seemed amicable. Like himself. Not at all as though he were about to engage in some untoward activity.

Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe everything he said had been honest and tonight he was simply running errands.

But what about Hensley?

“Watch yourself tonight,” said the guard. “There’s a burglar on the loose.”

Knight straightened. “Who was robbed? Are they safe now?”

The guard shook his head. “The attempt was on the palace, but as far as we know nothing was taken. Everyone’s safe.”

“The burglar got free?”

“We’re doing everything we can to apprehend him. He trapped a few of our men in a storage building. They’re itching to catch him now, as you can imagine.”

Great. They were out already, then. Now all of Hawksbill would be on alert.

Knight shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “I’m sure they are. Well, if I see him, I’ll be sure to tell someone. What does he look like?”

“Not sure. I heard he was wearing a mask. Saint Fade Christopher, maybe. A costume piece.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open. Thanks for the warning.”

The guard bowed his head. “Good night, Professor.”

They parted ways, the guard continuing his search for the supposed burglar around a small monument of four obelisks, where I’d been hiding just a few minutes ago. Knight slouched his shoulders and seemed to sigh in relief.

Whatever he was doing, it was illegal, and he knew it.

I hurried on to the wall, anxious to get out of here. The space between the gate and me was clear of guards, and with the gentle hills and curve of the wall, there was no way they would see me. But now that I needed to climb it, the wall seemed more imposing than ever before.

This was definitely going to be more difficult than I’d anticipated, but I gave it my best shot. I threw the end with the door handle as high as I could.

It clanked against the stone maybe halfway up, then scraped as it fell back to the ground. Frantically, I gathered everything and scanned the area, but it was still quiet. No one had heard . . . this time.

One more time. I gave it a stronger windup and hurled the makeshift hook up in the air, letting go of the pull this time.

It flew higher, almost reaching the top of the wall, but it was obvious this wasn’t going to work. The curtain pull was too short by an arm’s length. Even if I could get the hook end up there, reaching it would be difficult. And what if it didn’t hold my weight? What if the knot around the handle gave way?

I wished I’d thought of these things before, but I hadn’t expected sneaking out to be this difficult. Maybe I should have let James come with me. Still, I needed something.

A quick glance around the area provided no answers . . . except a slender wrought-iron trellis lying flat on the ground, just a short jog along the wall. Like someone had left it there to put up later. It was two stories tall, meant for one of the smaller Hawksbill mansions, most likely.

I grabbed the trellis and dragged it toward the wall, prickly iron scraping my palms. It was heavy, and while I wasn’t weak, this was really a two-man job. I needed to lean it up against the wall.

After a few panicked minutes of checking my surroundings and trying to figure out the easiest way to move the trellis, I dragged the bottom against the wall and then moved around to the top. After a few deep breaths, I heaved the top up and over my head. My shoulders and arms strained as I walked forward, lifting the trellis as I went. The weight behind me grew and the bottom ahead began to lift—but it caught against the wall, providing a small measure of leverage as I heaved the trellis into an upright position and leaned it against the top of the wall.

My arms and shoulders and chest throbbed as I adjusted the trellis into a somewhat stable position. My palms, too, ached with the scrape of iron. My skin felt raw. I should have worn gloves.

Already regretting the decision to come out so unprepared, I hoisted myself onto the trellis and began climbing. The steps weren’t evenly spaced like a ladder—not that I’d ever climbed a ladder—and the whole thing wobbled under my weight, but soon I was halfway up, and then all the way up.

I rolled onto the walkway at the top of the wall and groaned, staring up at the sky.

This business of sneaking out was much harder than I’d anticipated. But before I could really feel sorry for myself—for getting myself into this situation—I saw the city.

It stretched far beyond what I’d imagined, glowing with mirrors hung on every mansion and shop and tower. Streetlights in the nearby neighborhoods shone with a heady cheer, and people chatted and moved about along all the main streets. At least, what looked like the main streets. It had been ages since I’d been out of Hawksbill, and even then I’d been confined to a carriage with the windows curtained.

There was so much I didn’t know about my own city. The street names. Where the boundaries between districts lay. Where criminals liked to work.

One day I’d be king and I knew nothing about my own city. Because according to my father, it was unsafe.

This was unacceptable. I needed to learn. I needed Father to grant me some freedoms. Bringing down Hensley seemed like the surest way to prove my worth.

There was no more time to dally. I glanced over the Thornton side of the wall, briefly considering how much effort it would take to drag the trellis over the wall. A lot of effort. There had to be an easier way.

Then I saw it. A figure in the distance, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. A long braid whipped behind her as she moved stealthily around the peaked roofs and chimneys and mirrors. Another girl followed close behind. They paused on a nearby roof, crouched low, and the first girl pointed at something on the street.

After a moment, they angled toward an alley side of the roof and descended using brickwork and crates as stairs. Within heartbeats, they disappeared into the crowd.

They were probably thieves, but they had the right idea. I scanned the nearby rooftops and found some kind of shop close by. Close enough to jump to. At least, I hoped.

“Please, saints,” I muttered, “don’t let me fall to my death.” Or, more likely, fall to my shattered legs.

I checked along and below the wall as I came even with my target roof. No one. If I broke every bone in my legs and hips, I’d at least have some privacy.

After five deep breaths to steady my thoughts, I coiled my muscles and took a short running start before pushing off the ledge.

Empty air.

Empty air.

Roof.

I hit the shingles with a loud thump and tumble, and something slammed against the silver mask, pushing it askew. My raw hands scraped for something to hold on to as I slid toward the edge. The toes of my boots caught on a gutter. My fingers clenched around a thin pipe.

My breaths came fast and ragged, but I was alive, and all my bones were intact, as far as I could tell. Trying not to think too hard about my near death, I straightened the mask and vowed to get a better one for the next time I sneaked out. Mask. Gloves. Different clothes, too; already I could feel scrapes and bruises forming beneath my training clothes.

From the roof of the shop, I found some interesting brickwork, as the girls had, and made my way to the ground. There were no people in the narrow alley between the wall and Thornton shops, and all the lights were off in the buildings close by. That was something. Still, I didn’t want to linger.

I jogged along the wall for a little ways, toward the gate where Knight should be coming through any minute. If I hadn’t already missed him. Getting over the wall had taken much longer than I’d thought it would.

But then I saw his shape, hunched against the crowd of people on the main street. He moved quickly, leaving me no choice but to plunge into the crowd after him.

A few people startled and gave me extra space as they noticed my mask and the sword on my back, but no one cried out. Apparently news of a saint-robber hadn’t come out of Hawksbill yet. They’d remember the mask and sword, but I definitely couldn’t risk anyone remembering my face. Most of these people had no idea what I looked like, but it only took one person for the news to get back to my father. If I could learn to hop rooftops like those girls, that would dramatically improve my sneaking.

The road was crowded. Tall, short, thin, fat, and everyone in between. I’d thought it was suspicious that Knight was running errands at night, but there were so many people out here, several clutching shopping bags or heading into the stores that lined the street, it seemed I was the one who didn’t know what he was talking about.

There were several people between Knight and me, so I nearly missed him going into a shop. The sign above the door read Old Physicians’ Apothecary.

Of course. Because he had a burn.

As I walked by the door, I took a quick glance inside. Knight was heading right for the counter, though I couldn’t hear what he said over the din outside.

I paused on the other side of the door, my back to the wall. Maybe this was it. Just an errand. Maybe Father was right about what was going on and I was holding a grudge because I didn’t like someone.

With a sigh, I turned my eyes toward the Hawksbill wall again. This was it, then. My big adventure. Now I’d have to figure out how to get back home and explain to James that I’d been wrong. I’d never live it down.

But at least Professor Knight was innocent. That, more than anything, made me smile.

As for Lord Hensley . . .

Beyond the wall, the clock tower chimed midnight, and just then, Professor Knight came rushing out of the apothecary, swearing as he stuffed his purchase into a coat pocket.

At first, I thought I’d follow him back into Hawksbill. Somehow. But instead, he walked right past me—deeper into Thornton. His steps were clipped. His shoulders hunched forward.

Midnight, Knight had promised. Now.

And he was late.

So late he hadn’t taken the time to look around. So late he hadn’t noticed someone standing there in a Saint Fade Christopher mask.

I followed as he turned a corner, moving farther into the market district.

There were fewer people here, most with their eyes straight ahead and their jaws set. This wasn’t a bad neighborhood—as far as I knew—so I could only imagine the cold expressions everyone wore was because of me. Maybe I should have found my Indigo Order uniform.

I followed Professor Knight around a few more corners, always keeping a good space between us. When he glanced back, I stepped into an alley or ducked behind a trash bin. At the same time as I tailed my professor, I tried to keep track of the streets and turns, because I couldn’t count on following him out of here. There was always the wall to go by, and the buildings that rose above the rest of the city—the clock tower, cathedral, and palace—but by this time most of the local guard knew to look for my mask. It would be dangerous for me to wander around looking for the part of the wall where I’d crossed.

Finally, Professor Knight stopped and peered into an alleyway. “Shade?”

“You’re late,” said a masculine voice.

“Security is tight because of a burglar.” Professor Knight reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a leather sack. Glass clinked inside, and a faint, acrid stench whispered on the air as he removed a small vial. Like proof it wasn’t fake. Then he replaced it, carefully so the glass didn’t crack. “Do you have the money?”

“Of course.” A hand holding a small pouch appeared out of the shadows. Coins tapped.

The sound made Professor Knight glance around, and I pressed myself against a wall behind a stack of crates. My breath came short with revulsion.

Professor Knight was selling shine.

SEVEN

FURY ROARED THROUGH me.

Knight had been the one to warn me of the dangers of shine.

Knight had been the one to proudly tell me how he conquered his addiction.

Knight had been the one to tell me not to make shine my cause. Because he was selling it, and he didn’t want me to know.

This was so much worse than I’d imagined. This was him abetting one of the worst problems to ever plague Skyvale and the rest of the Indigo Kingdom—at least how he’d described the shine usage sweeping through the land.

I forced myself to breathe long and even. Maybe this wasn’t what it looked like. Father had said Hensley was working for him, and Knight was working for Hensley. Maybe I was misunderstanding everything.

Or maybe I wanted Knight to be the victim in this so much that I was willing to risk ignoring what was right in front of me.

And the truth was that he’d just sold someone a bunch of shine and I couldn’t for a moment believe there was anything innocent about that.

Footfalls thumped the ground as one or both of the men moved toward me.

My heart hammered as I forced myself to listen as the steps came closer. One man. Heavy steps. I’d never really paid attention to the way Knight walked before, but that did sound like him. The other man—Shade—must have gone back through the alley.

I’d find him later.

As Knight came even with me, I surged forward and grabbed the lapels of his coat. Before he had a chance to even shout, I yanked him backward and slammed him against the wall where I’d been hiding.

“Where did you get the shine?” I growled.

Knight’s eyes grew wide and round, but he didn’t respond. Just took in the mask and clothes and sword, and suddenly he was on me.

He shoved me backward. I was unprepared for it, and I stumbled, but caught him as he tried to run away.

I snatched his coat collar and dragged him back. He struggled, reaching for something to hold on to. He was broader, but I had the advantage of height and knowing Knight had very little combat training. At least, I thought I knew. Apparently there was a lot I didn’t know about my tutor.

He reached for my mask. I slammed him against the wall. “Where did you get the shine?” I repeated.

Was it Lord Hensley? I couldn’t help but remember his interest in the idea of shine-hunting dogs, and his quick ability to name the new variation when my father hadn’t remembered.

“Firefly,” I whispered. “Is it firefly you have?”

Professor Knight’s eyes went wide—confirmation enough—and I banged his head against the wall.

He passed out.

I jumped away as Knight slumped to the ground. Guilt softened the rage. I’d just knocked out my teacher. If anyone found out, I definitely wouldn’t get into Bome Boys’ Academy.

Not that Father would ever allow it.

This alley was still empty, but the sound of voices wasn’t that far off. I needed to make a decision about what to do with Professor Knight, now that he was unconscious at my feet. Leave him here? Drag him somewhere else? Call in the police?

Maybe, if he was afraid of me now—since I’d just given him a concussion—I could actually get some answers.

The voices were moving closer.

I grabbed Professor Knight by his coat and dragged him through the alley, around a bend, and down another alley. His heels bored small ruts into the dirt as I heaved him onward, a few stumbling steps at a time.

The exertion made my heart pound uncomfortably hard. Dragging a fully grown man after dealing with that trellis . . . it seemed I needed to gain more muscle.

Breathing embarrassingly difficult, I glanced around the alley. Whoever was coming was closer now, and if I wanted to ask Knight questions, I needed to get him somewhere safe.

There. A door. I let Knight drop to the ground and hurried to try it. Locked. As the voices drew nearer, I jogged down the alley a little toward another door. Unlocked. Which hopefully meant it was abandoned.

Only darkness waited inside. The room had the feel of a larger space, but it was hard to tell with only the faint glow from the moon and mirrors. At least it seemed to be empty. I heard no voices, no scuffle of movement, no ragged breathing.

I ran back to get Knight, struggling to keep as quiet as possible while dragging a man down the dingy alley. My arms trembled with strain by the time I made it to the door, nudged it open, and hauled Knight inside.

“Where’s Shade?” someone asked down the alley.

“Don’t know, but there are a lot of needy people looking for what’s in those vials.”

The voices were coming closer. I heaved Knight a little farther before hurrying to close the door.

In the dark room, I unwound the curtain pull I’d intended to use to scale the wall. Now, it would bind my professor.

I’d never tied up anyone, but I’d certainly been lashed to a chair before. During the One-Night War.

The memory shivered up inside me as I scanned the room, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. I’d been right about the size; this used to be some kind of storage area, as far as I could tell. Broken crates, crooked shelves, and planks of wood littered the floor. Bug carcasses crunched under my boots.

This was the sort of filthy place I’d always assumed was limited to the Flags. But maybe every district had its own forgotten corners—or the Flags were even worse.

Professor Knight groaned. He’d wake soon.

After a moment’s consideration, I stripped off his coat, pulled him toward the nearest shelving unit, and wrapped the curtain pull around his arms in a figure eight, then again around the shelf legs.

As he stirred, I dug through his coat pockets and found more sacks like the one he’d sold Shade.

Shine.

No, I reminded myself. This was firefly.

Betrayal shot through me again. How could he do this to people, knowing what he did about the effects? How could he do this to me?

“Who are you?” Professor Knight’s voice was groggy as he blinked up, his eyes not quite focusing. “Are you going to kill me?”

Who was he was the better question.

“Where did you get this?” I pitched my voice deeper, more menacing. The Saint Fade Christopher mask gave it a faint ring, disguising me further.

“It’s better if you don’t know. If the Burning Hand hears about you, you’ll be dead within a week.”

The Burning Hand? Lord Hensley?

Too easily, I could recall the palm scorched onto Professor Knight’s forearm. Did Hensley do that to many people?

And if Hensley was behind the firefly . . .

Well, I couldn’t trust that he was the only one, but I wasn’t trying to put a stop to all shine use right now. Just Hensley. All I had to do was connect Hensley to shine and then my father would have no choice but to investigate him for magic use, too. He’d be convicted of murdering Lord Roth and attacking Professor Knight, and investigations would open into other things I didn’t even know about.

I’d be vindicated, and Hensley would be in the darkest of prisons.

Unless Hensley—and Knight—was really doing all this for my father.

“Tell me about the Burning Hand.” I lifted a bag of vials and removed one. The pale liquid inside glowed with faint iridescence, and even through the stopper, I could smell the acrid odor of wraith. Usually—at least, from what I’d read—shine was pearly blue, but this was a shimmery rust color. “This is firefly?” I asked, though I knew. I just needed him to say it.

Professor Knight lifted his eyes to mine. His gaze was clearer now, and faint recognition lit his face. “What do you think it is, Tobiah?”

My heart lurched and I dropped the vial back into the sack.

“Of course I know who you are.” Knight tugged at the tie around his hands, but at that, at least, I’d done a good job; he couldn’t get free. “You’re wearing the same clothes from your training and I helped you choose that mask years ago.”

“Then you know I’m determined to hear the truth.” I didn’t bother deepening my voice this time, but I didn’t remove the mask, either. As much as I didn’t like the way it cut off my peripheral vision, there was something comforting about the illusion of anonymity. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I told you not to make this your cause.” Knight shook his head. “I wish you’d forget this. Why didn’t you listen?”

“Because you won’t tell me the truth. I need proof that Hensley burned you. I need proof that he’s connected to this.” I shoved the bag of vials forward. “Is this what my father has you and Hensley doing?”

He lowered his eyes. “Hensley isn’t working for your father. Not like King Terrell says.”

My stomach dropped. Hensley was working for my father, but deceiving him in the process. “What’s going on? Did Father ask Hensley to look into shine? Or firefly?” Or maybe Hensley had volunteered to keep up the illusion of innocence.

“Please, just go. I don’t want you involved. If he finds out you’re investigating him, your title won’t save you. Especially if you’re out like this.” He nodded at my clothes and mask. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Movement sounded outside. “The tracks lead this way.”

Knight swore. “If his people catch us, we’re dead.”

“Tell me everything and I’ll let you go free,” I hissed. “Please.”

Knight shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t risk you getting hurt, and I’d rather deal with the police than Hensley.”

“If he thinks you’re talking to the police—”

“Go.”

The footfalls came closer, and lantern light shot into the building, carving a path of yellow illumination across bits of metal and wood. There was another open door on the far side of the room, which led deeper into the building.

“Go,” Knight said. “Or I’ll reveal your identity.”

My throat tightened, but I nodded and dashed for the door. A dark room waited beyond.

Just as I made it through, police crashed through the door near Knight.

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me into the blackness.

EIGHT

I JERKED AWAY from whoever had been waiting for me, but in the dark, unfamiliar room, I wasn’t sure where to go. Not back into the storage room where police stormed in, their lanterns held high. Some knelt around Professor Knight. Others dug through the bags and the discarded coat, calling out about shine and firefly. Another pair ran toward my door.

“There’s someone through here!”

In the flashes of light through the door, I caught the girl’s wide eyes. She was young. Earnest looking. “Saint Fade Christopher? I’m Romily Ries. I can help you.”

I was no saint, but at least she seemed to be on my side. “Get us out of here.”

She gave a quick nod, took my wrist, and pulled me into a dark hallway. Her steps were soundless under the pounding of police moving in and shouting for us to stop. I tried to keep my steps quiet, too, but as she dragged me through the darkness and I lost all sense of where we were going, my movements became louder and less in control.

“You there! Stop!” It seemed like the police were gaining on us, and I couldn’t see anything. Romily’s turns were sharp and erratic, and my elbows slammed into walls. She didn’t have trouble, though. How could she tell where we were going?

My heart thundered. Any second now, I’d crash into a wall or stumble over some forgotten piece of machinery.

“Left.” Her direction was so quiet I almost didn’t hear.

We turned left.

The footfalls behind us softened.

“Left.”

We turned again, never slowing the flat-out run.

“Upstairs,” she hissed, and we stumbled upward. “Switchback.”

Our flight continued and the sound of the police behind us faded. Maybe they were giving up. Maybe we’d lost them.

After another minute, we burst onto a rooftop. Mirrors and stars and moonlight shed light across the flat section we emerged onto. Hot, humid air seared through my throat and lungs as I leaned onto my knees to catch my breath. James and I ran plenty as part of our sword training, but never through dark passages at full speed. My head buzzed with adrenaline.

“You all right?” Romily shut the rooftop door and wedged a piece of wood beneath it.

“I’m fine.” I crept toward the edge of the roof. Men and women shouted orders. The police uniforms were dark, highlighted with gold or silver—depending on rank—that caught the flares of lantern light. There wasn’t much to see from this angle. Just everyone milling about.

The police were everywhere. I couldn’t question Knight like this. Father would never let me see Knight if he went to prison. And, in spite of what I’d seen earlier, I wanted to believe that Knight had been forced into this because of his history. I wanted to believe that Hensley was using him and Knight, on his own, would never sell shine or firefly, because he knew what kind of pain it could cause.

I swore and sat back, out of view.

Romily’s eyes went round. “You’re not a saint.”

I snorted. “Does a saint wear a sword?”

“No.” She crouched beside me. “But I thought I’d ask. I saw you follow the Knight and make him stop selling firefly.”

“The Knight?”

“That’s what everyone calls him,” she said.

I glanced at her. The girl was a few years younger than me. Maybe twelve or thirteen. Her hair was oily and uncombed, and dirt and pimples marked her skin. Her clothes were torn and loose on her skeletal frame. “Are you from Thornton?” During my rare trip to Thornton, always well supervised, I visited only high-end shops where everyone was well fed and clean, and the prices were obviously marked up from normal.

“Red Flag.” She lifted her chin. “I was following my brother. He was the one who met up with the Knight.”

“Your brother’s name is Shade?” Who would do that to a child?

“Mercush likes others to call him Shade. It makes him feel tough.”

“I see.”

“Why did you take the Knight?”

“Because I needed to question him about what he’s been doing.” I dipped my voice. “Why did you follow your brother?”

“I wanted to ask him to stop. He’s a dealer, and dealers aren’t supposed to use, but he started last week. He couldn’t help it. He said he needed to know what it felt like.”

My chest tightened with anguish. Knight was a distributor. He might not be using again, but he provided the firefly to dealers and users throughout all Skyvale. Maybe even farther.

And firefly. Shine that didn’t just addict, but killed those who quit. I met Romily’s eyes for a moment, but couldn’t tell if she knew what would happen to her brother.

“The Knight didn’t come last week, and he was late the week before. Everyone says the Burning Hand was mad with him and punished him. Dealers in the Flags are mad, too. At least that’s what my brother says. Not to me. He doesn’t want me involved. But I hear him talk to friends.”

“What kind of friends?”

Her voice went flat. “Nightmare gang friends.”

Oh, saints.

“Is your brother in the Nightmare gang?”

Romily shook her head. “He knows some people in it, though. He’s been selling them firefly. They have mostly regular shine right now, but they want firefly.”

If the Nightmare gang got hold of firefly . . .

A tremor shoved through me. This was worse than I ever guessed.

“Is there a good place we can watch what’s happening down there?” We seemed to be right over the door I’d dragged Knight through, but everything happening was still inside the building.

“Not if you don’t want to be caught. You’re too clumsy.”

The words stung, but she was right. I was a fair swordsman, but jumping around on rooftops wasn’t one of my skills. Yet. I’d practice.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “They’re bringing the Knight out.”

She was right. A pair of police officers marched my professor into the alley, kicked the back of his legs, and forced him to his knees. He grunted and fell forward. Was this how police normally behaved?

A familiar figure emerged from the group of officers. Wide shoulders. Well-tailored clothes. Lord Hensley.

I pressed myself flat on the roof and strained to hear over the brush of wind. Romily did the same.

“Did you realize you were followed?” Hensley asked, like he wasn’t worried about the police wondering about that suspicious question.

“That’s the Burning Hand.” Romily shuddered beside me. “I never saw him before, but that’s him.”

She was right. Knight had told me as much.

And now, my professor just sat there with his head hanging. Blood dripped onto the ground. Had the police beat him? Or had I hurt him more than I’d realized?

“Who attacked you?” asked Hensley. “What did they want?”

Knight didn’t move.

“You’ve disappointed me.” Hensley strode forward. A few of the police officers glanced at one another, but none of them intervened as Hensley knelt in front of Professor Knight and said, “Skipping deliveries. Getting followed. And now you won’t tell me who’s interfering? I cannot trust you, Professor. What if Shade hadn’t seen you go down?”

My heart pounded so loudly it was a wonder they couldn’t hear it down there.

“If you won’t do your work, and you won’t be careful, and you won’t tell me about the man wearing the Saint Fade Christopher mask, then you’re useless to me.” Hensley motioned to the police officers at Knight’s sides. “Hold him.”

My throat squeezed.

Only when Hensley stripped off his gloves did Knight begin thrashing against the hands gripping him.

Then, ignoring the struggles, Hensley pressed his palm to Knight’s forehead.

Knight screamed. The sound cut through the night, cut through me. I pushed myself up—I had to stop this—but Romily touched my arm.

“Don’t.” Her voice shook. “He’ll kill you, too.”

The scent of burning flesh rippled upward, clouding my thoughts. “I have to—”

“You can’t.” The whites of her eyes shone as she looked at me. “You can’t win against all of them.”

The truth hit me. She was right. Hensley wasn’t afraid of saying those things in front of the police, because the police—these anyway—were with him. They, like Knight, were working for him. And every single one of them just watched as Hensley drew back from Professor Knight, shook a whiff of smoke off his palm, and nodded to the officers.

“Let him go now.”

For a moment, I hoped that meant Professor Knight would be set free. But then, his body dropped. One of the officers nudged him, rolling him onto his back. His face was bright red and everything reeked. But that wasn’t the worst.

On his forehead, up through his hairline, there was a large blackened handprint.

The Burning Hand indeed.

I scrambled away from the edge of the roof, frantic to keep my movements silent. The roof-access door wouldn’t open. I kicked the wooden stopper aside and ducked into the stairwell and pulled up the mask and heaved.

“You all right?” Romily whispered after a few moments.

I spit out the taste of bile, put my mask back in place, and shook my head. “I’m not all right. But I will be after I put a stop to Hensley and firefly and every single corrupted police officer in Skyvale.”

“A big job.”

No one else was doing it. My father didn’t seem to know, either. He’d put Hensley in charge of this. He’d never believe Hensley was responsible.

Romily didn’t smile as she said, “I’ll help you, if you want.”

Because her brother was involved, and she wanted to help him. A good enough reason for me.

“For now, help me get into Hawksbill. But meet me tomorrow night. I want you to teach me everything you know about Skyvale.”

No matter what it took, I was going to stop Lord Hensley.

EXCERPT FROM THE MIRROR KING

Prince Tobiah’s adventures, which began in The Hidden Prince,
continue in The Mirror King,
the sequel to The Orphan Queen.

THREE

IN MY BEDROOM, I stripped off the bloodied gown and hunted through a wardrobe until I found a dark shirt and trousers. Finally, the haunting sense of internment lifted. James said I shouldn’t leave the palace, but this was something I needed to do.

Because as much as I disliked the prince, I was relying on Tobiah to help me reclaim my kingdom.

If he died, I would truly be a hostage here.

Resolved, I moved toward the front door and rested my fingers on the lock. Just then, footfalls slammed through the hall, toward the crown prince’s apartments. I held my breath as they shouted for another physician, but there was no word on his condition.

I twisted the lock, and the bolt fell into place with a heavy thunk. A breath went by before Sergeant Ferris noticed and began rattling the handle, but I was halfway to the balcony already. “Help me to the ground,” I told the wraith boy. “Then I want you to hide under the bed”—surely he couldn’t hurt anything there—“and if anyone asks where I went, just tell them I will return soon.”

He followed me to the balcony. Stars crowded the sky, their faint shine glowing across the woods at the back of the palace. Gleaming remnants of the king’s glasshouse shimmered below. Cold air blew in from the west, buffered by the palace.

“Do you remember my instructions?”

“Yes, my queen.” He’d grown bigger outside, ready to follow orders. The acrid stink of wraith came off him, making my eyes water. “I will hide under the bed. I will tell anyone who asks that you’ll return soon.”

“Good.”

“Princess!” Sergeant Ferris was knocking at the door. “What’s going on?”

“Hurry.” I scrambled over the balcony rail so I faced out, my heels on the very edge, my calves and thighs pressed against the wrought iron. “Quickly, but carefully. Remember, if I die, you’ll be inanimate again.” As far as I could guess anyway. “I assume you have some sense of self-preservation?”

He sniffed, almost an offended sound, as he gently took me around the waist. Suddenly I was in the air.

My toes stretched for the ground, touching nothing as air whooshed around me. I was dropping.

Dropping.

Very.

Slowly.

Inside the room, the door banged open and James shouted something, but finally my toes touched the ground. The wraith boy’s hands slipped off my sides and the odor of wraith retreated.

“What are you doing?” cried James.

“My queen will return soon.”

When I looked up, I could just see James striding toward the edge of the balcony. I stepped beneath it where he couldn’t spot me. Not yet.

“Wil!” James leaned over the balcony, scanning the gardens.

If Melanie had stayed, she’d have covered for me. She’d have known just what to say to distract James and his guards while I slipped away.

“Ferris.” James’s tone was hard. “Get a small team together and search for Her Highness. Keep this quiet. Last thing we need is for everyone to know she’s broken out.”

“She’ll return soon!” added the wraith boy.

“Yes, Captain.” Ferris’s voice grew softer as he left the balcony.

“And where are you going?” James asked.

“Under the bed until my queen returns.”

I stretched my senses, straining to hear footfalls and breathing and the catch of clothes on buildings or brush. Carefully, quietly, I kept to the shadows and slipped around the perimeter of the palace. When patrols strode by, I held still and silent. The surge of adrenaline in my head felt real and right as I darted through the once-extravagant courtyards, leaving the palace for the first time since the Inundation.

There wasn’t much of a difference between the King’s Seat and Hawksbill; the two ran together and their boundaries weren’t marked. So there was no way to tell as I moved from one district to the other, but a rush of relief poured over me as I prowled around the wraith-twisted statues and trellises of nobles’ gardens, keeping beyond the glow of the gas lamps lining the streets.

Steadily, I moved westward, past the Chuter mansion and toward the Bome Boys’ Academy that sat along the Hawksbill wall. The school was four stories high, with a brick face and dozens of windows. Where there’d once been glass, now the holes were boarded up or covered with heavy wool blankets. Last I’d heard, the students had been sent home; during the Inundation, some of the doorways in the school had grown teeth and begun chewing.

Just past the school, I came to the wall.

It wasn’t impassible by any means, but without my grapple it would be a challenge to climb. The stone was smooth, even after the flood of wraith had changed the city.

Low voices sounded, and lanterns flared in the darkness between streetlamps.

I had to hurry, but without my tools, I had only one option.

“It’s for Black Knife,” I whispered, pressing my palm to the wall. “Wake up. Make a passage to the other side big enough for me to walk through.”

Under my hand, the stone warmed and began to ripple. Blackness paraded around the edges of my vision and I swayed. This was a mistake. I hadn’t awakened the entire wall, had I?

“There!” The soldier’s voice came from close by. “I see someone!”

“Is it the princess?”

“Hurry,” I whispered to the wall, and my vision blanked as the stone split open with a low rumble and groan. I struggled to breathe, to tell up from down. My groping hands fell on the edges of the new tunnel through the wall. Narrow. But I could squeeze through.

“Flasher! Saints, she’s using magic!” A light fell over me, too bright. “Get a patrol on the other side. Run!”

A pair of boots thumped off, leaving two men running for me.

But I was already in the tunnel, which was barely wide enough for me to move through sideways. I scooted as fast as I dared, jagged edges of stone catching on my clothes and hair.

An arm reached in. Fingers scraped my elbow. My stomach turned and I wanted to tell the wall to close after me, but I couldn’t with him reaching through. Shouldn’t. I’d have to leave it open.

“Go to sleep.” My hands scraped over the stone. “Go to sleep.”

Just as the soldier started to squeeze in after me, fingers twisting around my sleeve, I threw myself out the opposite side of the wall. He let out a frustrated growl.

“By Captain Rayner’s orders, you must return to the palace!” The guard shouted through the hole, but I was already sprinting into Thornton before the rest of the patrol caught up. “You won’t be harmed!”

I was gone, down a street and keeping close to the shadows, and finally behind a bakery where I leaned against a wall and let my breath squeeze from my lungs in silent gasps. Cold slithered into my chest.

That had been close.

And the magic. That had been stupid. Dangerous. Even if I’d animated only a section of the wall, it had still been too much. I should have found a trellis or something to climb.

But there hadn’t been time. And Black Knife was still dying.

I gave myself another long, silent breath as I listened for the patrols, and then I found a stack of crates by a fence where I could climb to the rooftops.

And I got my first look at the nighttime city since the Inundation.

The dark was overwhelming.

In Hawksbill and Thornton, streetlamps glowed like stars and hope, but in Greenstone and the Flags farther south, there was nothing. Just flat blackness.

Only days ago, there’d been mirrors on every west-facing surface in the city, catching sunsets and moonlight. All seven districts of Skyvale had been lit with faint reflected light.

But when the wraith came, every mirror in the city was destroyed. Glass windows, glass shields over lamps: those were shattered, too.

Legend had it that King Terrell the Second, Tobiah’s great-grandfather, had been called the Mirror King when he’d had mirrors hung all over the city. While it ultimately became just another way for people to display their wealth, it had been intended to frighten the wraith from ever invading Skyvale.

The truth ended up being a lot more complicated.

My wraith, what was now the boy, certainly didn’t like mirrors; it had stopped chasing me at West Pass Watch because of them. But in Skyvale, it had shattered the mirrors rather than retreat. How? Because I’d brought it to life?

I gave the dark, unfamiliar city one more look before I threw myself into it.

For hours, I moved from Osprey hideout to Osprey hideout, searching for signs of them. I kept an eye out for Patrick as well, but what would I do if I found him? I was unarmed, and as much as I wanted to catch Patrick and punish him for what he’d done, that wouldn’t help the prince.

It was almost midnight when I approached the Peacock Inn in White Flag—or what was left of the inn. It hadn’t been much to look at before the Inundation, but now boards had warped and bricks over the front of the building had melted over windows.

I stood at the corner of a nearby building, watching the inn for signs of the patrols James had sent after me. Three of my last stops had a police officer lurking about, which meant James knew where I’d gone—and why.

Usually, the inn was loud with drunks and thugs, but the whole city was quiet. The few people who braved the debris-filled streets skittered from place to place, keeping their heads low. Prey, waiting for a predator to strike.

Sounds from the taproom were muted. No one felt festive tonight.

If there were any officers here, they weren’t showing themselves. I dropped to the street and moved for the front door; the window I usually entered by wasn’t there anymore.

The front door opened and Melanie strode out.

We stopped and stared at each other for a heartbeat, and then her arms were around my shoulders and she gave a faint, relieved cry. “Saints, Wil!”

“Mel!” I hugged her back, then ushered her into a narrow alley. A dull crack sounded under her boot; we both froze, but the dirt and old papers that concealed the glass also muffled the noise.

We both exhaled.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “Why are you here?”

“What are you doing here?” I glanced toward the top floor, dark and eerie without the mirrors. “Are they here? Connor and the others?”

“They’re sleeping.” She leaned closer, smelling faintly of fire and something warm and damp. “There are people looking for you. Soldiers. The police. Looking for Princess Wilhelmina. Everywhere I go, I hear your name. Someone said you’re a flasher. What did you do?”

“Nothing. I broke out of the palace. I have to get Connor.”

“Are you a prisoner there?”

There wasn’t really a good answer to that question.

“Why Connor?” she pressed.

“I need to take him back to the palace.” Melanie didn’t know that Connor was like me. No one did.

“Are you afraid that I’m going to tell Patrick?”

My heart gave a painful lurch. “Are you?”

“No,” she breathed, looking hurt. “Saints, no, Wil. I only went with him because you need someone to keep you informed. You know that, right?”

“You couldn’t inform me that he planned on assassinating Crown Prince Tobiah?” Stupid Tobiah, standing out there on the balcony only days after the first assassination attempt. Less than a fortnight after his own father had been killed. Stupid, stupid boy.

At least, if he’d been just Prince Tobiah, I could have blamed ignorance or arrogance, but he was also Black Knife, and for that I could only assign reckless need to do what he viewed as right.

“This is the first time I’ve been able to get away.” Her shoulders slumped. “He suspects why I went with him. There’s no proof, of course, and as far as he knows, we’re still”—she swallowed hard—“together. But he’s kept a close eye on me. The only reason I was able to get out tonight was because we need supplies. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“To go where?”

“Aecor. Where else?”

Where else indeed? “Why tomorrow?”

“He’s certain the wound Tobiah took will be fatal.”

“It is a mortal wound.” The words scraped my throat. “He won’t survive it.” Not without Connor.

“We’ll be out of the city by dawn. He aims to reach Aecor before the week is up.”

“Where have you been? Where is he hiding out?”

She sighed and glanced toward Greenstone. “Everywhere. The warehouse district, the riverside, neighborhoods you and I would hesitate to venture into. He’s got us moving every hour, and he doesn’t tell us where the next place will be.”

“So where are you meeting him when you go back with supplies?”

“Fisher’s Mouth. That’s actually where I came from. It’s the first time we’ve stayed still since this morning.” Her expression hardened. “You intend to send the police after him?”

“Of course. He assassinated Terrell. He tried to kill Tobiah twice.” I couldn’t say when he’d decided murder was an option, but it had never been one for me.

Her shoulders lowered with acceptance. “I’ll keep him there as long as possible, but he’s so paranoid right now I’m afraid to appear suspicious.”

“I understand. Do what you can.” Cold wind sang through the alley, making me shiver. “Maybe we can put a stop to this before it gets even more out of control.”

She brushed back a strand of hair. “The plan hasn’t changed, Wil. Even without you, Patrick will go to Aecor and rally the people to your name. He’s more determined than ever to retake Aecor by the anniversary of the One-Night War.”

That was only a few months off. “And when people ask why I’m not with him?” I could already hear the answer, even before she spoke it.

“He’ll tell them the Indigo Kingdom is holding you hostage.”

Exactly as I suspected. “Come back with me. Let’s get the others and go to the palace.”

She shook her head. “You need me with him. I can temper him. Pull him back when he goes too far by reminding him that you’re going to be the one ruling Aecor, and whatever he does will reflect on you.”

“Like regicide?”

“Say it again,” she muttered. “I have to go now. He’ll ask questions if I’m gone too long.”

She was my best friend. I’d years ago memorized her face and the way I felt complete when she was nearby, but until recently I’d always known when I’d see her again. We’d never been separated for more than a few days, but now the future gaped with uncertainty.

“Be safe.” I hugged her tight, squeezing until the clock tower chimed midnight and we both pulled away. There was still so much to do. “I love you, Mel.”

“You too, but stop walking around unarmed. This is a dangerous city.” With a faint smile, she pulled a small knife from her belt and handed it to me. “I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”

I snapped and thumped my chest.

She saluted too, and with a brave grin, she sauntered down the alley, spinning a second knife in her hands. Her form vanished into the shadows, and I swallowed back the threatening tears. I didn’t have time to miss my friend now.

Thanks to Melanie, I knew Patrick’s location. I could go after him—with a score of police and Indigo Order men to back me up—or get Connor and go back to the palace.

Was it even really a choice?

I slipped the knife into my belt and headed into the inn. Dying flames in the fireplace glowed across the taproom, which was filled with dozens of lumps of sleeping people. Some snored, while others groaned and huddled into corners. The faint light caught the whites of eyes; a few people watched as I picked my way through the room and toward the stairs. A renewed sense of urgency chased me as I paused at our usual door to listen for voices.

When I pushed the door, the oiled hinges didn’t make a sound. Only a lantern warmed the small, cramped space.

All four of them were sleeping: Connor and Carl on the bed, and Theresa and Kevin on pallets on the floor. How they’d managed to keep the room to themselves, I could only guess, but I was relieved to find they were alone.

I let the door shut with a clunk behind me. At once they were all sitting and reaching for weapons.

“Wil!” Connor abandoned his knife and bounded across the creaky bed, onto the floor, and to me. “You’re all right.” He skidded to a halt and swallowed so hard his throat jumped, then he smiled. He was small for his age, with bony shoulders and sunken cheeks.

“We heard the prince had kidnapped you.” Theresa climbed to her feet and dusted off her trousers. “And that was why Patrick shot him.”

“And we heard that you’re Black Knife and that’s why the prince kidnapped you.” Carl rolled his eyes and twisted his little finger at the rumors. “They’re saying you controlled the wraith and led all the beasts into the city, and you’re responsible for the Inundation.”

“Oh.” I kept my face impassive. “Is that what they’re saying?”

Theresa and Kevin stood, and after hugs, Carl and Connor explained how they’d helped during the Inundation and returned to the city with the residents who’d been forced out by the wraith creatures that had rioted through the streets, killing everything in their paths.

“There was blood everywhere,” Carl said. “And monsters, all dead. We came here and helped clean up to earn our room. Rees went to Laurence’s Bakery a few times to help in trade for food.”

“Have you gotten enough to eat?”

Carl shrugged. “More than some others who aren’t strong enough to earn it. Connor makes us share sometimes.”

Connor glanced downward, but his generosity didn’t surprise me. I squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s bad out there,” Kevin said. “Everyone is hungry. Thirsty. Most people don’t have anywhere safe to sleep. We were lucky. The refugee camps are empty. A few refugees might have sneaked into the city with the returning residents, same as we did, but most kept moving east. They didn’t want to stay here, where it’s so dangerous.”

It was hard to blame them. “All right, we need to go. Connor, at least. The rest of you can follow tomorrow, if you want to stay here the rest of the night.”

“Where?” Connor asked.

“To the palace. That’s where we’re going to stay.”

“Why do you need me right now?” That sounded suspiciously like a whine, but when I frowned, a look of understanding unfolded over his face. “I’ll get my bag.”

The others looked as though they wanted to ask “Why Connor,” too, but they just gathered their belongings instead. While they were busy, I took an envelope off the small desk. It was sealed with red wax and a thumbprint, and the front bore my name in Melanie’s handwriting.

The Ospreys hadn’t noticed her earlier. They’d been sleeping when she’d come to deliver the letter, and even when they’d awakened, none of them had noticed something new in the room. What if it had been dangerous? They could have been hurt, or worse.

But when I looked up to find them watching me, they all wore closed, embarrassed expressions. I stuffed away my need to scold. In the days since the Inundation, I’d been miserable in my pretty cage, but they’d been hungry, and cold, and hurt. While this was an especially dangerous time to be unguarded in the city, I couldn’t blame them for their exhaustion.

“Did a messenger come for you today?” I placed the letter in my pocket and headed into the hall.

“Yes.” Theresa slipped her bag over her shoulder. “Were they really from you?”

I nodded.

“We didn’t know. We couldn’t be sure.”

“Don’t worry, Rees. That’s why I came to get you.”

The five of us moved downstairs silently, picked our way through the dim taproom, and went outside to find a dozen men—police and Indigo Order officers—waiting for us.

Sergeant Ferris stepped forward. “Princess.”

“Oh good. An escort.” I grinned and let my hand drift toward Melanie’s knife, but didn’t draw it. The gesture was merely a reminder. “Send your best people to Fisher’s Mouth in Greenstone. You’ll find Patrick Lien there.”

People scrambled to follow that particular order.

I could go with them. Leave Connor with instructions and go apprehend Patrick myself. But the words wouldn’t come. I needed to be somewhere else.

“In the meantime, take me to Captain Rayner and Prince Tobiah.”

FOUR

“WHERE DID YOU get a knife?” James didn’t bother to greet me as I entered the prince’s bedchambers. The gas lamps were dark, but the wood-paneled walls gleamed in the candlelight.

“It just appeared.” I touched the handle; my escorts had tried to take it from me, but I’d asked if they’d seen what I’d done to the Hawksbill wall and they spent the rest of the silent ride eyeing me warily.

There was a question in the way James lifted an eyebrow: had I made it appear?

I snorted. That would have been a handy magic. “Someone gave it to me.” I shut the door behind me and moved toward Tobiah’s bed. He was still and sallow, barely breathing. Brown curls fanned across his forehead, and strain carved a line between his eyes. He was so still. “Has he awakened at all?”

“No.” James walked up beside me, his elbow brushing mine. If anyone knew what happened between Black Knife and me in the breezeway, it was James. “The physicians have made him as comfortable as possible, but it’s only a matter of time. Hours. Perhaps minutes.”

“Good thing I brought help.”

James shifted his attention to Connor, who’d been hovering by the door with a feigned look of meek amazement at the splendor surrounding us. As though the last thing on his mind was which items to pocket and fence.

I gave a small shake of my head. I’d taught him that look. “I need you to do anything you can to save Crown Prince Tobiah.”

His manufactured expression faded into honest surprise. “Anything?” And the implied word: magic?

“If he dies, there will be a war and no way to stop it. Aecor will be crushed, and we will be prisoners or worse. He must live.”

Connor swallowed hard and moved toward the bed. He peeled down the blankets concealing Tobiah’s chest and stomach, revealing clean bandages and dark veins spiderwebbing his too-pale skin. Shadows circled his eyes. His lips were ashen.

“You brought a ten-year-old to heal the future king?” James didn’t quite scowl, but the uncertainty was there.

“I’m twelve,” Connor said.

“Well that makes all the difference.” James stared at his cousin, expression hard. He must have been terrified; he wasn’t usually mean. “Can you help?”

“I’m not sure.” Connor closed his eyes and seemed to search; whatever he saw made him shudder. “He’s really bad.”

“Try anyway.” My voice sounded hoarse.

“I’ll do what I can.” He rested his hands on the bandages. “This will take a while.”

“Another of the infamous Ospreys.” James pulled away from the bed as Connor grew as still as the prince. “And another flasher.”

“We aren’t all flashers. Connor’s the only other one.” As far as I knew. And it was only an accident I knew about Connor. Even among friends, we had to be careful.

“A healer and an animator. Powerful duo.” At my sharp look, James smiled a little. “Tobiah told me about a girl he’d met during the One-Night War. When your identity was made public, I figured it out. Besides, I already knew you’re a flasher.”

“I see.” I motioned at a chair near the bed, a basket of yarn and needles beside it. “Does the prince knit?”

James shook his head. “The queen regent has been in and out. Lady Meredith visited briefly.”

“And his uncles?”

“They were here long enough to see Tobiah’s condition and begin memorial preparations.”

Disgust turned my stomach. “He’s not dead.”

“There’s no reason to expect him to live.”

“But he will. He must.” I glanced at Connor and Tobiah, neither boy moving. “No one can know about this.”

“Count on silence from all quarters.” James excused himself to speak with the stone-faced soldiers in the parlor, and through the closed door I heard orders for discretion, an oath, and someone ask what was happening.

Which meant the only thing they knew was that the foreign flasher princess had brought in a boy in the middle of the night, and they were being sworn to never speak of it again.

As though that wouldn’t evoke more curiosity.

I paced the room, weary but restless as I listened to footsteps thudding in the other rooms of Tobiah’s apartments. Guards and maids and physicians. Connor muttered to himself, something about arteries and ligaments and organs. Sweat formed and dripped down his face.

This was taking so long. True, I’d seen Connor use his magic only once, and that was to heal a rabbit’s broken leg—nothing nearly like this—but shouldn’t he be finished by now?

I moved toward the oak bookcases. Gilt-lettered spines shone behind small curios: a golden spyglass, an aged wooden box with intricate carvings on the lid, and a framed paper behind glass. The paper was yellowed, and the writing so exact and regular it couldn’t have been made by hand.

“Pre-wraith artifacts,” James said, returning to the room. “Tobiah is fascinated by the things people created with magic a hundred years ago. Common things, like paper and clothes and trinkets. There were bigger things, too, of course: trains, faster methods of communication, and ways of clearing the land for farming. But it’s the smaller items that really intrigue him. Everyday conveniences we’ve abandoned.”

“I didn’t know that about him.”

“It’s not exactly material for polite discussion these days.” James checked the bed, but there was no change. “Tobiah hides a lot of who he is. You can understand, I’m sure.”

“You’re very perceptive, Captain.”

He indicated a stack of framed ink drawings leaning against the bookcase, waiting to be hung. They must have been delivered this morning. “I finally got to see some of your artwork.” He pulled out a drawing of Black Knife, sword in hand.

My heart thumped as my eyes followed the lines of ink, remembering the way my pen had slid across the paper without instruction from my head. I’d hated Black Knife when I’d started that, but he’d recently saved Connor from a glowman, and our following encounters had been . . . not bad.

“You’re talented.” James put the drawing into the stack again, hiding it between flowers and landscapes—other things that were more appropriate for a young lady to have spent her time creating. “Which I knew, having inspected your forged residency documents.”

Connor gasped and stepped away from the prince. “That’s it.” He blinked a few times, as though to clear his vision from whatever he’d been seeing. “That’s all I can do.”

“Thank you, Connor.” I stuffed down my disappointment; there was no change in the prince’s appearance. “James, is there somewhere for Connor and the other three to stay? I left them in the front hall under guard, but who knows what they’ve done by now.”

He heaved a sigh. “For the sake of my security teams, are they all like you?”

Able to sneak in and out of guarded buildings, fight opponents twice their size, and pocket valuables without anyone noticing? “I helped train them.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Connor,” I said, “you can trust Captain Rayner. He’s a friend.”

After James and Connor left, I paced the room for a few minutes, trying not to check Tobiah for signs of life. Finally, I sat at a writing desk and dug through his pens and ink and paper. I settled on a stiff nib, heavy blue ink, and plain palace stationery.

Tobiah,

Thank you for the letter you so quickly left in my room. In response to your request for forgiveness: there’s nothing to forgive.

We had masks and secret lives, and it was so easy to forget our obligations while we both wore black and met in the dark. Wherever our futures are, you’ve helped shape mine for the better.

With gratitude,

Wil

Postscript: What do you think about this handwriting? I found it on a man in Thornton who was copying valuable books and selling them as though they were originals. You might want to have someone look into that, if he lived through the Inundation.

Quick and light. That was all I could manage with him barely breathing mere feet away.

The boy I loved existed beyond his black mask, a fact I hadn’t fully reconciled. But no matter my muddled feelings, he was meant for someone else. She didn’t love the part of him that was Black Knife—she didn’t know—but she cared for the prince; he’d been warm toward her.

I wanted Black Knife. She wanted Tobiah.

He’d decided who he needed to be.

While the letter dried, I cleaned the pen and organized his jars of ink by color and shade. James returned just as I folded the letter and tucked it under the golden spyglass on the bookcase. “They’re settled in?” I asked.

“Yes. They ate everything in sight and had the silverware in their pockets before anyone noticed. You’re sure this is a wise idea? I will have to answer to the queen regent about their presence.”

“They’re all that’s left of Aecorian high nobility.” We both glanced at Tobiah, still pale, but his breath was more even and deep, as though he slept easier. “They’ve fought all their lives to reclaim Aecor and this”—I gestured around the room—“sort of world that was taken from them. There’s bound to be an adjustment period. They will learn.”

“I’m assigning guards on them at all times.”

“That’s probably not a bad idea.”

“You didn’t tell me you gave Ferris the location of Patrick Lien and the others.”

In my haste to get Connor to Tobiah, I’d forgotten to bring it up. “Was he arrested?”

James shook his head. “Fisher’s Mouth was empty. If he was there, he left no trace. Where’d you get your information?”

“Same place I got my knife.” I touched the handle. Had Melanie told Patrick we’d spoken? Or had he left Fisher’s Mouth so quickly because he was paranoid? I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment while James described how many soldiers and police officers had been pulled from other duties to chase this lead, probably giving Patrick and his half of the Ospreys space to slip out of the city.

“You should go to bed.” James motioned toward the door. “You look exhausted.”

And I was exhausted, but I wasn’t leaving. I marched across the room and took the chair near Tobiah’s bed. I’d tried to make two things right tonight, and already failed at one. If I’d gone after Patrick myself . . . but I’d made a choice.

I had to see it through.

BACK ADS

DISCOVER
your next favorite read

MEET
new authors to love

WIN
free books

SHARE
infographics, playlists, quizzes, and more

WATCH
the latest videos

TUNE IN
to Tea Time with Team Epic Reads

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PHOTO © HOUSDEN PHOTOGRAPHY

JODI MEADOWS is the author of the Incarnate series. She lives and writes in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, with her husband, a cat, and an alarming number of ferrets. She is a confessed book addict and has wanted to be a writer ever since she decided against becoming an astronaut. You can visit her online at www.jodimeadows.com.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

BOOKS BY JODI MEADOWS

Incarnate

Asunder

Infinite

Phoenix Overture

The Orphan Queen

The Hidden Prince

The Glowing Knight

The Burning Hand

COPYRIGHT

Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

THE GLOWING KNIGHT. Copyright © 2015 by Jodi Meadows. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition © August 2015 ISBN 9780062377067

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

FIRST EDITION

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

Australia

HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.

Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street

Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au

Canada

HarperCollins Canada

2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor

Toronto, ON M4W 1A8, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca

New Zealand

HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand

Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive

Rosedale 0632

Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz

United Kingdom

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk

United States

HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

195 Broadway

New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com