The Crimson Crown

by Cinda Williams Chima

  She stared down at the scene, horrified, until Amon touched her elbow.

  She spun around. “Let’s go see Klemath,” she said, making for the stairs.

  Kip Klemath was indeed in the dungeon, although in a holding cell on the upper, most pleasant level. The sons of the renegade general had always reminded Raisa of half-grown large-breed puppies—gregarious, friendly, big enough to do damage, and none too bright.

  Now Kip looked like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times. He sat in the farthest corner of his cell, head drooping, as if afraid to come too near the bars. Two grim-faced guards moved to one side as Raisa and Amon approached.

  “Klemath!” Raisa shouted, visibly startling him. “I’m here. What do you want?”

  Levering to his feet, he shambled over. “Your Majesty,” he said, attempting a smile. “Armor suits you. You look very warlike.”

  “I was told you had a message for me.” Raisa folded her arms.

  Kip glanced at Amon, then back at Raisa. “Commander Karn sent me,” he said. “He says to tell you he’s running out of patience.”

  “As am I,” Raisa said dangerously.

  Kip licked his lips. “I—I had no idea…what we were getting into,” he said. “These southerners—they’re not like us.”

  “If you are implying that you and I are somehow alike, I must disagree,” Raisa said. She had no intention of making it easy.

  Kip nodded, apparently accepting that assessment with no argument. “Commander Karn, he says to tell you that from today forward, he will execute one man, one woman, and one child each day out on the parade ground, in sight of the castle. He will keep it up until you surrender.”

  Raisa reached through the cell door, taking hold of Kip’s uniform tunic and yanking him flush with the bars, pulling his head down and standing on tiptoes so they were eye to eye. “And here is my message for Commander Karn,” she said, her mouth tasting of metal and ashes. “I will see Arden bleed for every innocent life he takes.”

  With inches between them, Kip thrust something into Raisa’s hand—a thick, lumpy envelope. “Send Captain Byrne out so we can speak in private.”

  Taken by surprise, Raisa hesitated, then stuffed the envelope between her armor and padding. She released her hold on Kip and took a step back. “Leave us, Captain Byrne,” she said.

  “Your Majesty, I don’t think that is a good idea,” Amon said, looking from Kip to Raisa, suspicion in his gray eyes.

  “I said leave us!” Raisa repeated, raising her voice. “I will be perfectly safe.”

  Amon inclined his head. “As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said, suspicion hardening into reproach. He backed from the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

  When he’d gone, Raisa pulled the envelope free and fumbled open the flap. Inside was a hand-scribbled note and a necklace—a familiar ribbon of white gold and blue diamonds. It had been a favorite of Queen Marianna’s. And, more recently, Mellony’s.

  A rivulet of cold fear trickled down Raisa’s spine and pooled in her middle. Unfolding the note, she scanned the page. The looping scrawl was familiar, spotted with teardrops.

  Raisa, I am so, so sorry. I was so angry with you, and so frightened for Micah, that I did a foolish thing. I tried to follow after Micah to warn him. But I was captured outside the walls. Now Captain Karn says he will torture me to death if you don’t surrender. He will do it, I know he will. He has the eyes of a fiend.

  He says it’s only a matter of time before the keep falls anyway. If you surrender, you will be kept as a hostage in the south. I will be married to Ardenine nobility, and the Fells will be a vassal state to Arden. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

  Otherwise, I will die now and you will be executed when the castle is taken.

  Whatever decision you make, I will understand. I have no right to ask it, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I am so frightened. Your sister, HRH Mellony ana’Marianna.

  P.S. If I should die, please tell Micah that I love him. I love you too, and hope you will pray for me.

  Raisa’s heart stuttered, and then hammered a painful cadence under her rib cage. She knew that it was true—that if she went to Mellony’s room she’d find it empty.

  An image came back to Raisa—of Mellony as a child, kneeling in the temple next to Marianna, head bowed, sunlight gilding her hair. Her little sister had always believed that if she played by the rules, nothing bad could happen.

  That’s the way it should be, Raisa thought. Mellony’s simple faith had been a fragile, precious thing. But she had lost her mother and Micah, and now she stood to die a horrible death. Raisa could not—would not—let that happen.

  Kip seemed compelled to fill the silence. “Commander Karn had me and Keith look over anybody who tried to get through the cordon around the castle, because he knew we’d recognize you even if you were in disguise. The Princess Mellony was dressed up as a boy, but she doesn’t look very boyish. I recognized her right away.”

  “So you betrayed my sister to the southerners?” Raisa’s voice trembled with rage and grief.

  Kip belatedly seemed to realize that confession had its risks. “I had no idea what he intended. I just want this whole thing to be over. You know what’s going to happen at the end of it. Why not save dozens of lives and weeks of…of trouble?” He raised both hands, palms up. “Why can’t you be reasonable?”

  “Reasonable?” Raisa felt her face heat as blood suffused her cheeks. “Reasonable? It would be reasonable for me to behead you as a traitor. It would be reasonable for me to hang you from the wall in answer to Karn’s proposal.”

  Kip paled. “Don’t be hasty, Your Majesty. I know you’re angry, but think what’s best for everyone, not just yourself.”

  “You truly have a gift, Klemath,” Raisa said. “Every word you say makes it more likely I will order you torn limb from limb.”

  Kip clamped his mouth shut in an almost comical fashion. Almost.

  “I’m a little confused, here,” Raisa said. “Karn holds Mellony, and he expects me to surrender the keep so he holds both of us. What have I gained?”

  Kip eyed her, as if making sure she really wanted him to speak. “He’s not asking that you surrender the castle. He wants you in particular.”

  Raisa’s mind swirled. Why was Karn offering this deal? Why not simply demand the surrender of the keep in exchange for Mellony? Why is it so important that he lay hands on me?

  Montaigne, she thought. Montaigne wants me taken alive. He hasn’t forgotten his humiliation on my coronation day. A queen martyred defending her queendom would be a symbol of rebellion that would plague the King of Arden for years after. A queen captured sneaking out of the palace, leaving its defenders to die, would be a better story for his purposes. A queen carried back to Arden and tortured to death as a warning to others—even better.

  Mellony had said she’d be married to Ardenine nobility. Maybe Montaigne—through Karn—had made her an offer: the throne of the Fells and his hand in marriage; an offer Mellony might be naive enough to accept.

  Raisa leaned toward Kip. “All right,” she said. “These are the terms of my surrender. You’ll go back to Commander Karn with a message. I will surrender to him and him only. I’m not going to turn myself over to a squadron of southern soldiers for their amusement.”

  Kip opened his mouth, then closed it again before any words leaked out.

  “Tell Karn to come to the postern gate tomorrow night, at midnight, with my sister. Just the two of them. Once I have assured myself that my sister is unharmed, we will make the exchange. Mellony will return to the keep and I will go with Karn.”

  Kip wet his lips again. “He won’t bring Princess Mellony so close to the wall. He’ll be afraid of treachery. You’ll need to come farther from the keep to make the trade.”

  “He’s afraid of treachery?” Raisa’s lips twitched, in spite of herself. “Poor Karn. What a world, what a world.”

  “Your Majesty,” Kip said,
after a moment’s hesitation. “Don’t try to fool him. Karn, I mean. He has spies inside the keep. They are always on the watch. So, whatever you do—”

  “All right,” Raisa said. “We will make the trade at the Market Temple. It’s in the center of the burned-over area, to the south of the keep. It’s easy to pick out—it’s the only building standing. But Karn has to withdraw his troops between the keep and the temple. He must clear the entire area, understand me? I will come under a flag of truce, and I will bring a guard.”

  “A guard.” Kip furrowed his brow. “Commander Karn said for you to come alone.”

  “Commander Karn seems to think I am a fool,” Raisa said. “Does he think I’d send my sister back to the keep on her own?”

  “You’re not really in a position to bargain, Your Majesty,” Kip blustered.

  “As long as Karn wants something from me, he’ll have to make a trade,” Raisa said. “The keep hasn’t fallen—not yet. Tell him I’ll have people on the watch. Tell him not to try to fool me, because I will know.” She gazed at him for a long moment, then turned away. “Good-bye, Lytling Klemath. I will give orders that you are to be released back to your southern allies.”

  “Your Majesty!” Kip called after her.

  She paused without turning around.

  “Shall I bring his answer back to you?”

  Raisa shook her head. “I don’t want to see you again. If he agrees, have him fly a banner from the top of that disgusting gibbet of his. If he doesn’t, no response is necessary.”

  “Raisa,” Kip said, the bluster gone from his voice. “I’m sorry it had to turn out this way. I had hoped, once, that you and I—that we might marry.”

  Raisa didn’t trust herself to respond to that, so she stalked to the door and out, brushing past Amon, who all but had his ear to the door.

  “Give Klemath safe passage back,” she said, without stopping. “I’m done with him.”

  “Your Majesty!” Amon said. And then, “Raisa! Wait!”

  She kept moving, up the stairs, through the duty room, out into the bailey, with Amon hard on her heels.

  “You aren’t considering surrender,” Amon called after her. “Tell me you aren’t thinking of that.”

  Lowering her head like a charging bull, Raisa crossed the bailey and climbed the steps to the Queen’s Tower, Amon trailing after her like a bluejacketed shadow, his jaw set and his expression grim.

  Although she felt a dull certainty that Kip was telling the truth, she had to make sure for herself.

  An unfamiliar guard was stationed outside Mellony’s door. She came to attention when she spied Raisa heading her way.

  “Is the Princess Mellony here?” Raisa asked, without greeting or ceremony.

  “No, ma’am,” the guard stammered. “I haven’t seen Her Highness since I came on duty. Somerset said she hadn’t returned to her rooms since late last night.”

  “Who was supposed to be guarding her?”

  “Well, ah, Your Majesty, we can’t spare the guards to escort her within the palace.”

  Raisa knew that. Of course she knew that. She slammed open the door to Mellony’s suite. Her sister’s rooms were an odd mingling of childhood possessions and a new grown-up sensibility. Here were her porcelain dolls lined up on her dressing table, brought back by their father from Tamron on his trading trips. There were her paints, some left open and dried out now. Here were favors from some past tournament, pinned to her mirror. And pots of paint and powder, brushes and hair accessories, laid ready for use.

  Raisa looked into Mellony’s bedchamber. The bed was made, her dresses still hanging in the wardrobe. She opened her jewelry box on the nightstand. Empty.

  Raisa picked up her hairbrush and pulled a few glittering strands free, then blotted her eyes with the backs of her hands.

  She turned back toward the door, to find Amon in the entryway. “What is it, Rai?” he asked. “What’s going on? What did Klemath say?”

  Raisa could feel the crinkle of the note inside her bodice, the weight of the necklace. “Karn is holding the Princess Mellony. He’s willing to make a trade—me for her. If I don’t surrender, he’ll torture her to death. If I do, he says he’ll hold me hostage in the south.”

  “You don’t believe him, do you?” Amon said. She could feel the hard pressure of his eyes from across the room.

  “What does it matter what I believe?” Raisa murmured, tears stinging her eyes once again. She’d arrogantly challenged the fates—had tried to shape events to suit herself. She had tried to make a small claim upon the world—to marry for love.

  Now Han was gone, and Mellony at risk.

  Would she be required to sacrifice everything—every single person she cared about for this bloody throne?

  Apparently so.

  C H A P T E R F I F T Y - O N E

  A WAY IN

  “Alister!” Crow crossed the dusty tower room to embrace him as soon as Han entered Aediion. “Are you all right? Where have you been? I was worried when you didn’t come.”

  “I’m sorry,” Han said, touched by Crow’s eager reception. “I’m all right. It’s just that—there’s a lot going on.”

  “I’m desperate to hear what happened between you and Bayar. I’ll want every detail.”

  That seemed like an old story now, nudged into the background by Han’s present troubles. “I’ll tell you all about it—don’t worry. But right now I need some advice.”

  Even as he said it, Han realized that this might be his last chance to speak with Crow. The plan to break the siege had already begun to unfold. Their small army had assembled in the highlands and was descending toward the Vale. A handful of others waited for him at the foot of Gray Lady, where they would launch their attempted penetration of Arden’s lines.

  “Go on,” Crow said.

  “Here’s the short of it: the Ardenine Army has Fellsmarch Castle surrounded, with Queen Raisa inside. A second army of mercenaries is waiting outside the city.”

  Crow eyed him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with you? You look pounded, for some reason.”

  “What do you mean, for some reason? I just said—”

  “No, no, no.” Crow shook his head. “No matter how hopeless the situation, you’ve never looked discouraged before. Did something happen?”

  There was no way Han was going to tell Crow about Raisa and Micah’s betrothal. Crow would tell Han to kill Micah, which was already too tempting as it was.

  “Maybe I’ve finally realized there’s no way to win this. We need to get into Fellsmarch Castle somehow, past the army. We’ll be using glamours, of course, but I know they’ll have wizards on the watch, looking for that. If we can’t cause some kind of distraction, I don’t expect many of us will survive crossing the Vale. With our numbers, we can’t afford to lose anybody.”

  “Why don’t you use the tunnels?” Crow said. “Or have they been blocked off?”

  Han shook his head. “The tunnels will take us to Hanalea Peak, or to the foot of Gray Lady, but we need to get into the city.”

  Crow’s expression said that Han was being rather thick. “No, I mean the ones under the Vale, that go from Gray Lady to Fellsmarch Castle.”

  “There are tunnels that go to Fellsmarch Castle?”

  “Well, yes, of course,” Crow said. “How do you think Hanalea and I escaped to Gray Lady at the time of our marriage? Did you think I used magic?” He snorted.

  “I…I didn’t know how you did it,” Han confessed.

  “How do you think we managed to keep our relationship a secret for so long?” Crow said. “There are too many eyes and ears in a palace—too many tongues wagging. The Bayars made sure I never got near the queen. And so, of course, I created my own path.”

  Han recalled what Lucius had said, how Alger Waterlow and Hanalea ana’Maria had trysted in the rooftop garden. He had assumed that Alger was staying somewhere in the palace at the time.

  “Where does the tunnel come out? At the castle end, I mean,”
Han asked, a tiny flame of hope kindling within him.

  “In the queen’s bedchamber, of course,” Crow said, his clothes glittering up a bit. “At least, it was the queen’s bedchamber at that time. Under the conservatory, as I’ve said. Of course, there’s no telling whether it still exists.”

  “Queen Raisa’s bedchamber is still under the conservatory,” Han said. “She said she liked the access to the garden.” He’d never seen her coming and going from the garden. She’d just appeared there, as if by magic. Could that mean the tunnel still existed?

  But would it be connected to the longer tunnel, the one Crow was describing? Or had it been closed off centuries ago?

  “Was the tunnel hidden?” Han asked. “Did anyone else know about it? Were there magical traps in that one, too?”

  “It was well hidden. I relied on that, rather than magical traps to protect it. Hana and I had an agreement that if they tried to force a marriage with Kinley, she would escape through the tunnel to my holdings on Gray Lady. So it wouldn’t do to have magical hazards along the way that she couldn’t manage.”

  Han’s mind churned with plans. If the tunnel still existed, Raisa and Mellony could be smuggled out of the castle to Gray Lady before the battle ever began. It could be a way to keep them safe—no matter what.

  Safe so Raisa could marry Micah Bayar?

  Quashing that thought, Han conjured up the map of Gray Lady that Crow had drawn for him. “Here,” he said, extending it toward Crow. “Show me how to get to the tunnel.”

  C H A P T E R F I F T Y - T W O

  DARKMAN’S

  HOUR

  What was proper attire for a hostage exchange? Raisa wondered. Should she dress for travel? Don intimidating royal plumage? Wear temple robes like a martyr in the old stories?

  It depended on how long she expected to live after the exchange was made. Whether Karn intended to kill her now or later. Whether Karn would actually bring Mellony to the meeting or not.

  In the end, she layered on light padding, the magicked armor Dancer had made for her, and the Gray Wolf cloak Willo Watersong had crafted for her coronation. Dog hovered so close, she almost stepped on him.