The Burning Hand by Jodi Meadows Page B

desk, a safe distance away from the reunion. James bent his head toward mine.
    â€œHow long has he been awake?”
    â€œA few minutes.”
    Across the room, Tobiah was reassuring his mother that he felt fine, and he wasn’t going to die. Meredith perched on the edge of the chair I’d slept in, leaning forward with her hands still clasped by her heart. The flush of someone who’d cried herself to sleep was brightening into hope.
    â€œWhere were you?” I asked James. “I expected you to be hovering.”
    â€œI had work to do. If you recall, I was made head of palacesecurity and there was an assassination attempt five minutes later. Then you escaped.” James shook his head. “Apparently, I have a big job ahead.”
    He had a point. “So you didn’t warn the queen regent and duchess about Connor?”
    â€œI intercepted them on my way here. The royal physicians insisted Her Majesty be, ah, helped to sleep last night, and this morning she decided she wasn’t happy about it.”
    â€œHard to blame her,” I muttered.
    â€œAnyway, I thought you were plenty capable of protecting my cousin while I looked into securing the palace. Even if you couldn’t, there are half a dozen men of the Indigo Order in the next room.”
    â€œPatrick might have killed Terrell in his sleep, and with nothing more than a knife, but twice now he’s attacked Tobiah from a distance.”
    â€œWhich is why the windows are shut and there are guards on the balcony. But all of our intelligence suggests Patrick has left the city.”
    â€œThat’s my thought, too.” The guilt churned in me.
    â€œWhat are you two talking about over there?” Tobiah lifted his voice, looking beyond his mother, who sat on the bed beside him. “And James, grab a shirt for me. It’s chilly.”
    James fished through a wardrobe and handed his cousin a solid black shirt before beginning his account of the search for Patrick. And though I wished he wouldn’t, he included my involvement with drawings and telling the Indigo Order to search Fisher’s Mouth.
    â€œSo.” Tobiah finished shrugging on the shirt—Meredithdemurely turned her head—and began buttoning while he spoke. “Lien has yet to be captured.” His gaze cut to me for a heartbeat, then went back to James. “I hope you’re still making your best effort.”
    â€œOf course. And while it’s likely he’s left the city by now, confident of your death, the palace remains on high alert.”
    â€œThis brings me to the first of many questions.” Francesca stood and smoothed her gown as she took her place beside Meredith. “Who were those people you brought here last night, Wilhelmina?”
    James stilled.
    â€œCaptain, do you think I don’t know when a small gang of youths appropriates one of the best rooms in the palace? They ate through almost a quarter of residents’ breakfast before anyone caught them.”
    Oh, saints. They’d found the kitchens.
    â€œOf course not.” Somehow, James kept his tone light. “I just didn’t expect you to know quite so soon, and without preparation.”
    The queen offered a thin smile and turned toward me, waiting for an explanation.
    I fumbled. Haughty? Solemn? Kind? I didn’t know which mask to put on, so I didn’t use one. I exhaled and let her see how much they meant to me. “They’re what’s left of Aecorian high nobility, kidnapped during the One-Night War. At first, there were nineteen of us. Now there are ten, split down the middle. The night of the Inundation, four came with me, and four went with Patrick.”
    â€œThe ones eating their way through the kitchens are yours.”
    I nodded.
    â€œLet me make sure I understand correctly. Patrick Lien was once part of your group. You knew he’d killed my husband, yet did nothing to bring him to justice?”
    I pressed