The Gray Wolf Throne

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Raisa frowned. “Such as?”

  Cat dug the toe of her fancy slipper into the carpet. “Spying and filching where it does the most good, second-story work if need be, putting a bribe into the right pocket or a word in the right ear at the right time.” She looked into Raisa’s eyes. “You probably don’t like the idea of doing things on the down low,” she said. “But that’s the turf you’re walking right now. You got enemies that’ll do whatever it takes to win. You got to have weapons of your own.”

  Raisa ran her fingers through her hair. “Unlike my enemies, I won’t do whatever it takes to win. I’m not looking to hire an assassin or thug.”

  “I’m thinking more like spymaster,” Cat said.

  “Cat was the one that roused all of Ragmarket and Southbridge to come to the queen’s funeral,” Han said. “She had two days to do it.”

  “How old are you, Catarina?” Raisa asked.

  Cat shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m past my name day, though,” she added, folding her arms and gripping her elbows to either side. “I’m sure of that.”

  “She knows who you’re up against,” Han said, seeming to understand where Raisa was going with this. “And she’s older than her years.”

  “It would be a great favor to me if you’d take me on,” Cat said, drawing her brows together as she concentrated on her speech. “It would do me good to spend more time with quality. It would help me learn about manners, politics, and such.”

  “Signing on for this role is a good way to get yourself killed,” Raisa said, the memory of Talia and Trey fresh in her mind. “If you want to leave the streets I can put in a word that will get you a position with almost any noble family in the Fells. You’re smart. Given a little more polish, you’ll move up quickly.”

  “That’s not what I want,” Cat said stubbornly.

  “She has her own reasons for wanting to help,” Han said. “If you say no, I’ll find other jobs for her to do. Likely more dangerous than this.”

  Raisa debated. Why was Han so keen on placing his former girlfriend in her rooms? There were so many possibilities. Was it really to prevent attacks by assassins? Or would Cat serve as a barrier to keep the two of them—Han and Raisa—apart?

  Would it allow him to keep better track of Raisa’s movements while permitting him more freedom to come and go as he pleased?

  She looked at Han, who stood, head cocked for her answer, absently rubbing his right wrist where the cuff used to be. His face gave her no clues.

  Did she really want Cat Tyburn looking over her shoulder during her rare moments of solitude? Maybe. If it helped her stay alive.

  “All right,” Raisa said. “We’ll give it a try.”

  C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T W O

  FOR THE GOOD OF THE LINE

  After three weeks on the job as Raisa’s chambermaid, Catarina Tyburn still rattled around Raisa’s suite like a pair of chicken-bone dice in a velvet bag. She was never still—always poking her head into the closet to make sure no one was creeping out of the tunnel, staring out the windows to spot assassins hiding in the gardens, reconnoitering with the guards in the hallway to establish that they were still alive and on guard. Her constant motion set Raisa’s teeth on edge, but she knew how hard Cat was trying, and managed to restrain herself.

  The maidservant part of the job went mostly neglected unless Raisa asked her to do something specific. Cat simply had no clue what the job entailed. Magret Gray caught things up when Cat was away, and she never missed an opportunity to point out the novice maid’s shortcomings.

  For instance, one morning, Cat brought out the dress Raisa meant to wear to a reception for the Guard and left it draped over a chair. When Magret arrived, she arranged it on Raisa’s dress form and circled around it, hands on hips, muttering to herself.

  Raisa tried to concentrate on her book, but Magret’s grumbling grew louder and louder as she took a brush to the skirt.

  “I’ll try the steamer, but I don’t know if I can get these wrinkles out by tonight. It’s a disgrace, sending the queen of the realm out in something that looks like it was stuffed in a drawer or crumpled up on the floor. In my day, servants took pride in the appearance of their ladies.” And so on.

  Raisa put a finger in her book to mark her place. “Magret? Is there something you want to tell me?” she said.

  “No, ma’am.” Magret continued to brush at the velvet. “Never you mind. I’ll do my best to sort this out.”

  “Do you have concerns about my new chambermaid?” Raisa persisted.

  Magret swung around to face Raisa, her hands on her formidable hips. “Your Highness, I’m wondering why she’s here, and so is everybody else. Some of us come from Ragmarket, aye, but we take the long way here, working our way up with hopes of one day serving the queen and her family. All the servants are buzzing about it, but they are afraid to say anything to her for fear she’ll cut their throats.”

  “Really?” Raisa said in a deceptively calm voice. “Since when is it the role of my servants to dither and debate over my choice of employees?”

  Magret sniffed. “It’s our role to look after you, ma’am, as best we can. We want to see you well served. And it’s more work for the rest of us when she doesn’t do her job proper.”

  “She came recommended,” Raisa said. “Maybe she has some rough edges, but—”

  “Who recommended her?” Magret burst out. “That blue-eyed devil lives next door? Oh, he’s a handsome one, and he dresses up nice, but that doesn’t change who he is. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Your Highness. Like he’s hungry and you’re dinner.”

  Raisa’s cheeks heated as the blood rushed to her face. She came to her feet, fists clenched at her side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “I know all about Cuffs Alister,” Magret went on. “He used to take his pick of girlies in Ragmarket, breaking hearts all around. Ladies and laundresses, it didn’t matter. Why, I’ve heard stories of how—”

  “Magret, Han Alister saved my life,” Raisa said stiffly, resisting the temptation to put her hands over her ears. “And nearly lost his own to do it. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I can never repay.”

  “Well, he’ll make you pay,” Magret says. “Mark my words. That one never does anything without weighing out the gold and figuring shares.”

  “All right, you’ve warned me,” Raisa said. “Now that subject is closed. Let’s discuss Cat…arina. You are absolutely right. She does need training.” She paused, for a heartbeat. “I want you to do it.”

  “Me?” Magret looked horrified. “Oh, no, Your Highness, I couldn’t—”

  “I’m promoting you. I’m naming you Mistress of the Queen’s Bedchamber,” Raisa said. “You’ll supervise my personal servants and be responsible for teaching them what they need to know to be the best they can be.”

  Magret pressed her lips together so whatever she was thinking wouldn’t spill out. It wasn’t hard to make a guess, though.

  Raisa touched Magret’s arm. “I am aware of Catarina’s shortcomings as a chambermaid. She will never be a stellar servant—that’s not what I’m looking for—but she can be improved. I’m asking you to trust me on this and do the best you can. Will you do it?”

  Magret gazed at Raisa for a long moment, then nodded grudgingly. She opened her mouth to say something else, when someone tapped at the door.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” Magret went to the door.

  It was Amon. Raisa could see his tall frame in the doorway beyond Magret’s broad back.

  Amon had asked for an audience with her. Several times. And Raisa had put him off. Her instincts told her that any formal audience with Amon wouldn’t bring good news.

  She resisted the urge to flee into her inner chamber and claim a headache, but he’d already seen her.

  Magret turned toward Raisa, a question on her face. Raisa nodded wearily. “Come on in, Amon,” she said.

  He entered, and Raisa saw that he wore his dress
blues, the Lady sword at his side.

  She gestured to a chair by the windowed wall. “Please. Sit down,” she said, and sat as well. “Would you like anything? Some cider? Something to eat?”

  “No, thank you, Your Highness.” Amon shook his head, then eased himself down, perching on the edge of the chair, his hands on his knees. “I won’t stay long.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve put you off,” Raisa said, fluttering her hand. “It’s been relentless, and I knew I would see you at the reception tonight.”

  “I understand, Your Highness,” Amon said, in his Formal Amon voice. “I know we see each other almost every day, but I felt I should schedule an appointment. For this.” He glanced at Magret, then looked down at his hands, where the wolf ring gleamed on his right hand.

  A cold lump of dread formed in Raisa’s middle. She knew what this would be about.

  “Magret,” she said, not taking her eyes off Amon’s face, “please leave us.”

  She thought Magret might object, but she bowed her head and backed from the room. Magret made no secret of the fact that she thoroughly approved of and trusted Amon Byrne.

  “So,” Raisa said, when the door had closed behind Magret, “what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “As you know, Annamaya Dubai has come home,” Amon said. “She’s staying in the dormitory at the Cathedral School temporarily, since her father is stationed on the border of Arden.”

  “I know,” Raisa said. “I’ve seen her at court. How nice she came home for the summer. Though I would have thought she might stay on at school.”

  “She is hoping to find a position here at home,” Amon said. He cleared his throat. “If she could earn a little money, it would help next year at school.”

  “Ah,” Raisa said, nodding. “When does she go back?”

  Amon’s gray eyes locked on hers until Raisa looked away.

  “She won’t be going back. She has decided to transfer to the Cathedral School,” Amon said. “She has only one year left.”

  “Oh? I’m surprised she’d come back here,” Raisa said. “The Cathedral School is good, but the Temple School at Oden’s Ford is the best in the Seven Realms.”

  Amon plowed on doggedly, as if telling a well-rehearsed story. “I had to leave school suddenly, as you know, and with my—with my new responsibilities, I won’t be going back. So Annamaya decided to come back home, to be closer to me.”

  Well, she’s sort of clingy, don’t you think? Raisa wanted to say. But didn’t.

  “I hoped you might be able to give her reference for a position here at court,” Amon said. “She’s had three years at Oden’s Ford. She has letters of reference from her masters at the Temple School, but your recommendation would mean a lot.”

  “Well.” Raisa fluttered her hand again like it was some kind of captive bird. “Of course. I mean, I haven’t spent a lot of time with her, but from what I’ve seen, I—”

  “I would like you to get to know each other better,” Amon interrupted uncharacteristically. “I think you would like her if you got to know her.”

  How had Amon gotten the impression Raisa didn’t like Annamaya?

  I need to be a better person, Raisa told herself. I will be a better person, the Maker willing. An unselfish person. I just don’t know if I can do it right now, along with everything else.

  “I’m sure we will become great friends,” she said, rattling on like an idiot. “Since she’ll be here at court and…here in the Fells. Permanently, it seems.”

  Amon gripped Raisa’s hands, taking her by surprise. “Rai, Annamaya and I would like to announce our betrothal at the reception tonight,” he said.

  “B—betrothal?” Raisa stuttered. “To—tonight?”

  Amon rushed on now that he’d stumbled into it. “Remember, back at Oden’s Ford I said we meant to announce our betrothal in the summer, after I returned home?”

  “So soon? I mean, you said you weren’t planning to marry until after you finished at the academy, and—”

  “Right. But now that won’t happen, so there’s no reason to wait,” Amon said. His grip on her hands had tightened, and it cut off circulation to her fingers.

  She should have said, Oh, that’s fabulous news! You’ll make a perfect couple. But somehow, her usual ability to dissemble deserted her when she was with Amon.

  Instead, she managed, “Well, what a…happy…and surprising surprise! Thank you for letting me in on your secret ahead of time.”

  Amon studied her face. “Well, it hasn’t been a secret. And I—as the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, I’m expected to let the queen know about marriage plans.”

  “Really?” Raisa said. “Do I have to approve them, too?” She tried to say it lightly, but the quaver in her voice gave her away.

  She’d lost Han, and she’d lost Amon, and Micah was a snake, and Nightwalker was exhausting. She felt like the belle of the ball standing on the sidelines with an empty dance card.

  Amon bit his lip, his face a mask of misery. “I have to marry, Rai,” he whispered, looking down at their hands. “And I’m eighteen now. I think it might be…easier…if I were married.” He looked up rather hopefully. “Don’t you think?”

  Raisa shook her head. “Nothing will make this easy,” she said. “Marriage just seems so terribly, awfully final. Even though I know we can’t be together, it’s still hard to give you up for good.”

  “You are not giving me up,” Amon said. “I will always be here—you know that.”

  She nodded, gathered herself, and managed a wry smile. “I do know that. I am being unreasonable. Of course, you of all people know that I am not a reasonable person. Because you are my friend, I am telling you how I feel, in my selfish heart.”

  Raisa leaned forward, looking into his gray eyes. “But know this, Amon Byrne. I wish you every possible blessing in your marriage. No one deserves happiness more than you—I mean it.”

  She released her grip on his hands and stood, clutching her skirts to either side. “Thank you for the warning. It will help…tonight.”

  Amon stood also. “Good-bye, Your Highness,” he said, in a strangled voice. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’ll see you tonight.” He saluted her, his fist pressed over his heart, then backed to the door and was gone.

  That night, Raisa ana’Marianna hosted a reception for officers of the army and the guard. She wore an unwrinkled dress of green satin that matched her eyes. She danced with all the officers, encouraging the Princess Mellony and her ladies of the court to join in.

  Midway through the evening, the Captain of the Guard, Amon Byrne, asked her blessing on his marriage to Annamaya Dubai, a student at the Temple School at Oden’s Ford and the daughter of one of the officers in the army of the Fells.

  The couple knelt before Raisa, and she raised a glass to toast their marriage and their future happiness, noting that they were exceedingly well matched. Taking Annamaya’s hands in hers, Raisa lifted her to her feet and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Captain Byrne’s tall lady on the cheek.

  “Thank you for sharing Captain Byrne with me,” she said, smiling. “I know we will be great friends.”

  There followed a series of toasts, led by Raisa, who promised to dance at their wedding, which would likely be in the fall.

  All of those present agreed that the newly betrothed pair was a charming couple and congratulated Raisa on a successful party.

  That night, Raisa lay awake for a long time, staring up at the high ceiling, imagining that she heard Han Alister breathing in the next room.

  C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T H R E E

  MORE STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

  Having Cat next door as Raisa’s chambermaid gave Han more freedom of movement—and less. He didn’t feel like he had to stick to his room all the time, keeping his ear to the door, waiting for someone else to take a turn at trying to hush the queen-to-be. When Raisa was out and about—within the palace or outside—there were two of them now to split the responsibility of keeping her saf
e. Three, counting Captain Byrne.

  But he felt less able to come and go from Raisa’s rooms at will—which was a good thing when it came to resisting temptation.

  The princess heir wasn’t there much anyway. Raisa entered into an endless whirlwind of parties and receptions as the coronation loomed closer. Amon, Han, Cat, and Dancer began meeting each morning to discuss security and strategies for protecting her during the festive turmoil, what with comings and goings and strangers in the palace. The Gray Wolves stood twelve-hour shifts, seven days a week, without complaint. They took a personal interest in keeping their friend safe.

  Magret Gray was the official gift wrangler, recording and storing the coronation gifts that poured in. Han inspected all of them for hidden hazards, such as magical snares, sorcery, poisons, or the like. It also gave him the chance to see who was cozying up to the queen. Lots of movables flooded in from the down-realms, including a gaudy tiara from Gerard Montaigne. Han couldn’t help wondering who was walking around bareheaded in Tamron now. Or maybe the previous owner had had her head chopped off and so had no need of tiaras anymore.

  The Bayars sent more lavish presents of jewelry and silver candlesticks. Han gave them an especially close going-over, calling on Dancer’s expertise as well. They seemed to be unmagicked. It didn’t matter much, because Magret Gray locked them away without even showing them to the queen-to-be. She wasn’t taking any chances with wizards bearing gifts.

  The maiden still gave Han the evil eye, refusing to speak to him directly, even though he went out of his way to be polite to her.

  Han began thinking that he should give Raisa something for her coronation, too. He wanted it to be unique and yet meaningful. But it also needed to be something he could afford. He’d just bought a building, after all.

  Finally, inspiration struck. He talked his idea over with Dancer, who thought he could get the piece made in time for the coronation if he got to work right away. There was a silversmith at Demonai that would help him with it.