The Crimson Crown

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Han’s heart twisted. If the people who knew him best thought him capable of shoulder-tap murders, then what should he expect from everyone else?

  “What did the queen say?” he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  Cat frowned. “She was crying and saying she was going to get to the bottom of it, and Captain Byrne, he was trying to console her and saying he’s sorry.”

  “All this happened with you in the room?” Dancer said.

  Cat shook her head. “’Course not. I was listening at the door,” she said. “Then the queen said they should talk to me since I was the go-between. So as soon as I heard that, I left through the window. I wanted to get to you before you came back to town and got hushed or arrested.”

  “Where’s Flinn now? Do you know?” Han asked.

  Cat shook her head. “The bluejackets took him away with them. I hope they throw him in gaol. He should never have told on you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Han said. “If he thought I was murdering wizards and meant to kill the queen, he did the right thing. He thought I’d thrown in with them that murdered his friends. He had no way of knowing different. And that’s my fault.” Han shook his head. “I need to find him. I need to talk to him.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Hunts Alone,” Willo said. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

  “Maybe not, but I should learn to trust my friends.” He turned to Cat. “I’m sorry. I ask you to do a job, and then I don’t trust you to know what’s going on. You and Dancer and all of my friends are taking a walk in the dark, just waiting for the bad thing to go down.”

  “You’ve always been tight-lipped,” Cat said. “Streetlords got to be.”

  “I’m not a streetlord anymore,” Han said.

  He recalled how betrayed he’d felt when he’d learned that the girl he knew as Rebecca had been lying to him for more than a year. What must she be thinking now?

  “I’ve got to talk to her,” Han muttered, his insides roiling like the Dyrnnewater at the flood.

  “Who? Fiona?” Cat said.

  Han shook his head. “Raisa. I should have been straight with her before. I should have told her what I intended to do.”

  “What do you intend to do?” Dancer said.

  “I’m going to marry her,” Han said.

  “Marry her?” Cat gaped at him. “Why?”

  “I love her,” Han said. “And I should have trusted her enough to tell her the truth. And now maybe I’ve lost her.”

  “No,” Cat said, shaking her head. “Cuffs Alister is not getting married. That an’t possible.”

  “Hunts Alone,” Willo said. “The Demonai will never permit a marriage between you and the queen. You know that. With Nightwalker fanning the flames, they are more rabid than ever.”

  “Queen Raisa has just been told that you are plotting to take away her throne, and now you’re going to ask her to marry you?” Dancer rubbed his chin with the heel of his hand. “Do you think the time is right for that?”

  “It’s the only time I have,” Han said. He stood, and Dog rose, also, sticking close. “I’m going to see her. Willo, could you take care of Dog while I’m gone?”

  Willo nodded. “Of course.”

  “If you go down to the city, you will be arrested,” Cat said.

  “If the Demonai don’t get to you first,” Dancer added.

  “What is it you always say?” Han said. “Everything’s a risk.”

  “I’m coming with you, then,” Dancer said.

  “If I run into the Bayars, that will give them the excuse they need to murder you too,” Han said. “You’re not accused of anything. Stay clear of me until I can straighten this out.”

  If that was even possible. Han could only hope there was some way to make it right.

  C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - N I N E

  IN HANALEA’S

  GARDEN

  “Blood and bones!” Raisa growled, throwing her embroidery hoop across the room. It clattered against the wall and disappeared behind the bed. “That’s the fifth time I’ve stabbed myself today, and now I’ve got blood on the linen. I’m no good at this, and I’ll never be any good at this.”

  Magret looked up from her book. “Would you like me to read to you, Your Majesty? I have some poetry that—”

  “No,” Raisa muttered. “I’m not in the mood for poetry.”

  “What’s wrong, Your Majesty?” Magret asked. “You’ve been tense ever since you came back from the mountains.”

  “Tense? What makes you think I’m tense?” Raisa snapped. “Do I have to be in the mood for poetry all the time?”

  After a long disapproving pause, Magret said, “I wish Caterina were here. If she played for you, that might soothe your nerves.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” Raisa said. “I haven’t seen her for days.” Not since Han’s accusers had paraded through her chambers. Cat must have overheard—and done what? Gone to warn him? Gone to tell him to leave the queendom?

  Maybe he was gone for good. The thought left a huge, hungry hollow in her middle. But at least he wouldn’t end up in gaol—a possibility she seemed unable to prevent.

  I’ve been to gaol, he’d said once. Not going back.

  “Your Majesty,” Magret said, breaking into her thoughts. “Is this about Cuffs Alister?” She stood, putting down her book, looking ready to do battle on Raisa’s behalf. “What’s happened? What’s he done? Has he threatened you?”

  People say he’s plotting to kill me and steal my throne, Raisa might have said. But she was in no mood to hear I told you so from Magret Gray.

  Anyway, rightly or wrongly, Raisa still didn’t believe it.

  He’s too smart for that, she told herself. Everybody is against him. There’s no chance he’d win.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said, tired of debating with herself. “There’s no reason for me to make you miserable, too. You’re at liberty for the evening.”

  Magret shook her head. “Captain Byrne doesn’t want you left alone,” she said.

  “I won’t be alone. There’s a half dozen guards in the hallway.”

  “Still.” Magret had that stubborn look on her face that said resistance was useless.

  “Fine,” Raisa said. “Stay, then. I’m going to bed.”

  She changed into her lightest nightgown, and climbed into bed, but of course she couldn’t sleep. It was beastly hot. She tossed and turned, flopping from front to back to side, until she could hear Magret snoring from the sitting room.

  Somewhere far off, wolves called to each other. Called to her. Once she focused on that, there was no sleeping at all.

  I’ll go up to the garden, she thought. At least I’ll get some fresh air. Maybe that will make me sleepy.

  She padded barefoot along the tunnel inside the walls and climbed the ladder to the rooftop garden, the metal rungs punishing her feet. Emerging into the garden temple, she walked out to the fountain. The windows in the glasshouse stood open, admitting the night breeze to dispel the heat of the day.

  Sitting down on the edge of the ornamental pond, Raisa dangled her feet in the water, feeling the goldfish nibble at her toes.

  The wolves spoke again, close this time, and moving closer. Danger or change—which is it? Raisa messaged them.

  She sensed his presence as a prickling between her shoulder blades before she saw or heard him. She looked up to find Han Alister silhouetted in the doorway of the glasshouse, centered by the bright star of his amulet. He stood as if frozen, his expression a mingle of desire and regret.

  “Thank the Lady you’re still alive,” Raisa said, lifting her feet from the water and drying them on the hem of her nightgown. She was oddly calm, as if this meeting had been ordained a long time ago. “Did Cat find you?”

  Han nodded. “But don’t blame her. She was worried about what would happen if I came back to town without knowing what was coming down.” He stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to f
oot as if unsure how to begin.

  Just then, a dog pushed up next to Han, a scrawny tan-and-white shepherd dog with a leather collar and a torn ear. For a moment, Han seemed to debate whether to pretend it wasn’t there. Finally, he knelt beside it. “I told you to stay!” he muttered. “Don’t you ever listen?”

  This was so ludicrous, the dog such an unexpected walk-on, that Raisa couldn’t help laughing, though her eyes were blurred with tears.

  “A dog? You’re a wanted man, accused of treason, and you brought a dog into this?” She shook her head. “Is that fair to the dog?”

  “Wasn’t my idea,” Han said. He looked up at Raisa, tired, travel worn, and desperate. “He wouldn’t stay where I put him. He kept following me, so I finally had to give him a ride so he wouldn’t run himself to death.”

  Raisa’s heart twisted. This is the man they accuse of murdering wizards? This is the ruthless killer plotting against me? And the conviction within her flared up brighter than ever: I don’t care how many witnesses they have. I don’t care what the evidence says. There is no way.

  “Hear me out,” Han said. “And then if you want to have me arrested, I won’t resist.”

  I don’t want to have you arrested, Raisa thought. How could you think I would want that?

  And yet—you’ve kept secrets from me since the day we met. We can’t go on like this.

  “I’ll listen,” Raisa said, “if you’re ready to tell me the truth.” She patted the bench beside her. “Come, sit down. I assume it will take a while.”

  Han crossed the garden, the dog at his heels, and sat down, resting his hands on the stone bench, the breeze from Hanalea ruffling his fair hair. He seemed at a loss for how to begin.

  “I’m not very good at this,” he said, his voice so soft Raisa could scarcely hear it. “All my life, I’ve kept things to myself. When everyone around you is out for blood, it’s safer that way.” He cleared his throat, looked at her. “It’s not an excuse. Just an explanation.”

  Raisa stared out into the garden, the silence between them thick as winter honey. Gray shadows padded toward them. Raisa’s ancestors—their ancestors—formed a circle around them, as if to insulate them from the world.

  The dog pressed himself against their legs, hackles raised, growling low in his throat. Han stroked his head, gazing out at the circle of wolves. “Just a little extra pressure, right?”

  A trick of their shared blood, Raisa thought, with a rush of understanding. No wonder he can see the ancient queens.

  “So. I can just start in talking. Or you can ask me questions.” Han looked up hopefully. “And I promise to tell the truth.”

  Raisa sighed, wondering if she really wanted to hear it. “Is it true we are related?”

  “Yes.”

  “And our ancestors are Queen Hanalea and Alger Waterlow?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is news to me, but apparently you’ve known for some time.” It was a statement, not a question, but Han nodded anyway. “So why did I have to hear from someone else?” Raisa said in a rush, her voice low and furious.

  “I wanted to tell you,” Han said. “But I was afraid to. I didn’t know…I had enough strikes against me already. I thought you might send me away.”

  “Yet you put on the Waterlow colors. Why would you, if you wanted to keep it a secret?”

  “I can’t really explain that, except that for the first time I felt like I had a history, a bloodline. I wanted to claim it.”

  “Blood. And. Bones!” Raisa burst out. “Why would you want to claim that history? We descend from the greatest villain who ever lived.”

  “It wasn’t really like that,” Han said. “You don’t know the whole story.”

  “And you do?”

  He nodded. “Pretty much.” He met her gaze frankly, inviting the next question.

  Raisa wasn’t going to allow herself to be distracted. “You told Fiona Bayar, though, didn’t you? About your ancestry?”

  Han hunched his shoulders. “I sort of did,” he said.

  “Sort of?”

  “It was a mistake. I lost my temper. She asked me to crew for her, to go in on shares.”

  “That’s not what she said.”

  Han raised an eyebrow. “Really? What did Fiona say?”

  “She said you told her you carried Gray Wolf blood and you intended to become king.” She paused, cleared her throat. “She said you tried to talk her into being your consort.”

  “That’s not true!” he flared.

  “You never said that?” Raisa lifted her chin.

  “Well.” Han looked down at his hands. “I did say something like that.”

  “And yet I should trust you?” Despite her best efforts, Raisa’s voice cracked.

  “She wanted me to kill you and your sister so she could make a play for the throne, all right?” Han said. “She’d be queen and she offered me consort. I just suggested maybe it should be the other way around. I didn’t mean for any of it to actually happen.”

  The encircling wolves stirred, yipping softly.

  “That makes me feel so much better,” Raisa growled. “Does Micah know Fiona wants to be queen?”

  “I have no idea what Micah knows,” Han said. “You spend a lot more time with him than I do.”

  Raisa bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Fiona said you gave Micah permission to court you.” Han cocked his head. “As long as we’re telling truths.”

  Raisa came to her feet, cheeks burning, fists clenched. “I have no intention of marrying Micah Bayar.”

  “Oh? So you’re allowed to believe what Fiona says about me, but I’m not supposed to believe what she says about you.”

  “But you just admitted that you told her—”

  “I figured if I said no, she’d just find somebody else to do the deed. I wanted to be on the inside so I’d have a chance of stopping her.” He paused. “Anyway, I thought I needed her help to be elected High Wizard. Something you asked me to do, Your Majesty.”

  It came back to her, the conversation with Han when she’d asked him to stand for High Wizard. Let’s be clear on this, he’d said. You want me to do whatever it takes to make this happen? Things you might not like?

  “Fiona said she only met with you in order to gather more evidence so she could bring it to me,” Raisa said.

  Han rolled his eyes. “Believe whatever you want. My read on it was she was dead serious until I brought Dancer and Willo to the council meeting. She confronted me, furious, and I told her to take a walk. Then she came to you.”

  “Still…someone was plotting to murder me and you didn’t see fit to tell me?”

  Han smiled, his first of the evening. “Your Majesty, there’s an entire lineup of people plotting to kill you. What’s one more?” His smile faded. “But you’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’m…I’m used to handling things myself.”

  “You’ve also been implicated in the wizard murders. You were seen in Ragmarket the night the Gryphons were killed, crouching over their bodies.”

  “Mick and Hallie, right?” Han rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Bones. I hoped they hadn’t recognized me.”

  “Well?”

  “I was in Ragmarket that night,” Han admitted. “I told you. I was walking the streets, trying to entice the killer to come after me. I got word there were two more bodies—fresh ones—so I went to check them out, looking for clues. That’s when the bluejackets showed up.” He spread his hands in a plea for understanding. “I ran. I just…Instinct takes over, you know? If you stop to think on the streets, you’re dead.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me about any of this?” Raisa said.

  “Because I was afraid that you’d think I was guilty,” Han said. “Why wouldn’t you? I have the history, maybe a motive, and there’s a dozen people whispering in your ear, telling you I’m dangerous. That’s why I was so desperate to find out who really did it.”

  “They fo
und a talisman under the bodies,” Raisa said. “A clan piper in rowan and oak, inlaid with turquoise.”

  “Cat told me,” Han said, his face gone hard and pale.

  “Well?”

  “It’s mine,” he said.

  “I know. I’ve seen you wearing it.”

  “I lost it a week or so before the killings. I didn’t know what happened to it, so I asked Dancer to make me another.”

  “Do you know where you lost it?” Raisa said.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I mainly use it for…for one particular purpose,” he said. “So I didn’t realize it was gone—not right away. I have no idea how it got there.”

  Raisa took a breath. “Did Cat tell you about Flinn?”

  Han nodded, massaging the back of his neck. “It’s my fault. I never should have brought him onto my crew. Based on my past, he really believed that I was the one killing wizards. And after he overheard my conversation with Fiona, I can’t blame him for thinking I was out to murder you. He did the right thing, coming to you about it.”

  “So he was working for you?”

  “Eyes and ears only. I can’t be everywhere at once.” Han paused. “Where is he now?”

  Raisa’s face heated. “We don’t know. We’re looking for him.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “When Flinn and Amon came to see me, Cat was here, and that seemed to rattle him. We tried to reassure him, but he kept saying he was a dead man now that he’d told. The Wolves escorted him to Kendall House for safekeeping, but somehow he slipped away from there.”

  Han swore softly. “Let me guess—they think I hushed him too.”

  “Some people, yes,” Raisa admitted. “If I won’t file charges, Micah plans to proceed through the Wizard Council. So it looks bad. You have motive, opportunity, and a reputation for violence, and they are putting together a case.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Han said, meeting her gaze. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Innocence may not be enough to save you,” Raisa said. She took a breath, released it in a slow shudder. It was happening again—she was falling under the spell of Han Alister. Against all odds, she believed him.