The Seven Realms- The Complete Series

by Cinda Williams Chima

  That settled, they circled silently a moment. Amon still looked troubled, though.

  “What’s wrong?” Raisa asked.

  “What if they don’t come back? I’m supposed to leave for Oden’s Ford in another week.”

  “Already?” Raisa felt a flicker of panic. “But the summer’s not even over yet. It’s only the end of July. You have all of August, and—”

  “I’m taking the long way back to Oden’s Ford. We’re doing a little scouting for Da. But if he’s not back, I can’t leave you here on your own.”

  “He’ll come, Amon; they both will, you’ll see.”

  The music had stopped, signaling the end of the dance, and they coasted reluctantly to a standstill. Amon was leaning down, and their faces were inches apart. Gripping both his hands, Raisa whispered, “Thank you.” She went up on her toes, sliding her arms around his neck, meaning to finish the dance with a chaste kiss, but just then they were interrupted.

  “Your Highness?” The accented voice came from behind. “I believe I have reserved this dance.”

  Raisa whirled around and saw that it was Prince Liam Tomlin, of Tamron. The prince offered a graceful bow. “Of course, if it’s no longer convenient…?”

  “Your Highness,” she said, and curtsied, her face burning with embarrassment. She really needed to pay better attention. Especially since Prince Liam was a possible match. “Of course it’s convenient. I’m sorry. I was just…”

  “Distracted,” he said. “It happens.” His smile was dazzling against his coppery skin.

  Raisa looked over her shoulder, but Amon had disappeared.

  The prince took her hand, and the orchestra launched into a waltz, a safe dance for southerners, in deference to the royal pair. The musicians needn’t have worried. The prince danced with the unconscious grace of someone who’d grown up at court.

  He was not especially tall, compared to Micah or Amon, but he was exceedingly well-dressed, in a blue coat and white breeches that displayed his lean, aristocratic build. Tamron was known for being the arbiter of style in the Seven Realms. Next to glittering Tamron Court, Fellsmarch was a backwater.

  “It’s not often that I must reserve a place on someone’s dance card,” Prince Liam said. “And wrench my partner from the arms of another. See how far the fortunes of the Tomlins have fallen.”

  Startled, Raisa studied the prince for evidence of arrogance, but found only a kind of self-deprecating good humor. She liked him at once.

  “Right. Well, I’m trying to get used to the idea of being put on display like a fresh side of beef,” Raisa said.

  Prince Liam laughed out loud, a surprising full-bodied laugh. “Perhaps you subscribe to the notion that princes actually have control over their own lives. I beg to differ. We strut the boards, improvising like mad, only to learn that the script is already written, and we’ve got it wrong.”

  “Not always,” Raisa countered. “I have to believe that sometimes we can write our own.”

  “You love your soldier, then?” The question was like a bold blade between the ribs, but Raisa deflected it.

  “I am not talking about love,” Raisa said, amending silently, Well, not only about love.

  “I have a chance, then,” he said, turning his head and displaying his handsome profile, framed by his tumble of black curls. He peered sideways at her to see if she’d noticed.

  She laughed. “You are quite the poseur,” she said.

  “That is what I was going for,” he replied cheerfully. “Everyone else in the room—they’re all imposters.”

  “I’m not playing a role,” Raisa said. “I want people to know who I am.”

  “You are young, Your Highness,” Prince Liam said, sounding like one of her cynical elders.

  “Why? How old are you?” Raisa demanded.

  “I’m seventeen,” he said.

  I’m almost as old as you, she thought of saying, but didn’t, since it sounded like something a child would say. “How goes the hunt for a wife?” she asked. “Any prospects?”

  He laughed again. “They said you were blunt.”

  “They did? What else did they say?”

  “They said you were willful, and stubborn, and smart.” He looked into her eyes. “And the most beautiful princess in the Seven Realms.”

  It was flattery, but it was still pleasant to hear.

  “Indeed? I have no way of knowing, since I’ve never been out of the Fells,” Raisa said. “One day I’ll visit Tamron and the other southern realms. How have you been affected by the war in Arden?”

  “We choose to ignore the war,” Liam said, leaning close to speak into her ear, as if confiding a secret. “We distract ourselves with parties and entertainments and other vices, as if that will make it go away.”

  “And yet you’re here, seeking an alliance against the Montaignes,” Raisa said, grateful for her tutelage from her father and Amon Byrne.

  Liam waved a heavily ringed hand. “I’m looking for a rich wife to pay my gambling debts,” he said. “We hear the queens of the Fells are very frugal, that they still have the first coins ever minted with their images.”

  The music stopped, and he led her from the dance floor to a table in one of her mother’s temporary groves. Raisa signaled a server to bring them drinks, and then kicked off her shoes. Her dance card was finished—Prince Liam had been the last on the list. Although the orchestra still played (and would until the princess heir officially departed), Raisa was surprised to find that the room had nearly emptied. She hadn’t realized it was so late. Somehow she’d got through her name day party without really noticing. It was kind of a letdown, after the months of buildup.

  She refocused. Prince Liam was raising his glass to her. “You are the most beautiful princess in the Seven Realms.” He raised his other hand to stop her protest. “I’m a very good judge, Your Highness. I’ve seen more than my share.”

  Raisa laughed. Prince Liam’s agenda might not entirely coincide with hers, but he was charming.

  “You should come visit us,” the prince went on. “Tamron lacks the physical beauty of the Fells, but I think you would find the city of Tamron Court very…interesting.” He made a wry face. “Though summer is not our best season.”

  “So I hear. Your father, King Markus, invited me to visit his cottage on Leewater.”

  “The cottage is lovely in summer,” Liam said. “Though it can seem crowded when all three wives are in residence.”

  Raisa couldn’t help wondering if he’d mentioned them on purpose.

  “I prefer summers in the city, where we sleep during the heat of the day and stay up all night. Soon it will be autumn, when the nights grow cool and lovely, and the rains revive the flowers. We call it the wooing season.” He closed his hand over hers.

  Tread carefully, Raisa said to herself. This is the princeling Missy Hakkam fell head over petticoats for. Raisa tended to use Missy Hakkam as a kind of trail marker to warn herself away from foolish behavior.

  “Are you here on your father’s behalf, or do you represent yourself?” Raisa asked.

  Liam laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. “My father does not need my help in matchmaking,” he said. “I am here on my own.”

  “Well, then, what’s your position on multiple wives? If you have two or three, can your wife have multiple husbands?”

  Liam was taking a drink of wine as she asked that, and he very nearly splattered it all over the table. “P-Princess Raisa,” he spluttered. “I think any man who marries you will find he has more than enough to handle without complicating things.”

  Raisa laughed also, but noted that he’d not really answered her question. He was looking at her, though, as if he found her absolutely fascinating. His gaze traveled from her mouth to her eyes and back again.

  He leaned closer, resting his hands on her bare shoulders, raising gooseflesh there. “At this point, I would usually suggest a walk in the garden, but it’s still raining buckets, from the sound of it. Perhaps
…there’s somewhere else we could go to talk, away from the ears of the court.”

  It occurred to Raisa that maybe Liam was the danger she’d anticipated. But an interesting kind of danger, after all.

  Just then Raisa heard a step behind her, and Liam looked up over her shoulder and frowned.

  “Your Highness.” Raisa knew before she turned around who it was.

  “Your Highness, the queen requests your attendance in her privy chamber,” Micah Bayar said. “She asked me to fetch you.”

  Raisa eyed him with distrust. Why would her mother send Micah to fetch her, after all that had happened already? She looked around for Amon, but didn’t see him, nor any others of her guardsmen. She wondered if he’d already gone up to the garden.

  Micah turned to Liam. “Sorry, Your Highness, but you will have to excuse Princess Raisa. It is growing late.”

  “Yes. It is,” Liam said, without rancor. He smiled at Raisa. “Princess Raisa, I will be here for a few more days before I return to Tamron,” he said. “I’m staying in Kendall House. I hope to see you again before I leave.” He bowed and turned away.

  Micah looked after him for a long moment, then took hold of Raisa’s arm to lead her from the ballroom.

  She pulled free. “I know the way,” she said, and walked away, leaving him to follow. She would have liked to have spent more time with Liam Tomlin, and was tired of being dragged around by the Bayars.

  “What does my mother want?” Raisa asked as they threaded their way between groups of people still talking in the corridor. “I haven’t seen her for hours. I thought by now she’d likely gone to bed.”

  “Not yet,” Micah said, not answering her question. He seemed tense, and Raisa suspected he’d been drinking again.

  Raisa herself had been careful not to drink anything but water and oversweet punch. It was her custom to try to learn from experience.

  As they neared the queen’s apartments, the corridors emptied out. Automatically, Raisa turned off the public corridors into the narrower, private ones used by the royal family. As they passed the small library established by her father, Micah said, “Raisa, before we go in, give me a minute. Please.”

  She turned to face him. He nodded toward the library. “Just hear me out. I promise it won’t take long.” He fussed with his sleeves, seeming uncharacteristically awkward.

  Against all common sense, she believed him. After a long moment, she preceded him into the library, putting a table between them.

  “I’ve been trying to get in to see you, ever since the party,” he said. “I wanted to tell you that I did not know about the ring and the necklace. I didn’t realize they were enchanted.”

  He was admitting they were jinxpieces, then, that Lord Bayar had lied to the queen. Raisa folded her arms. “Why should I believe you?”

  He shrugged. “Because, as you’ll see, I have no reason to lie to you.”

  She tilted her head. “What do you mean,‘as you’ll see’?”

  He ignored the question. “And because I’d like to think that I’m able to attract a girl on my own.”

  “Depends on the girl,” Raisa said acerbically. “I hear you have had some success in the past.”

  He half smiled, shrugging his shoulders, reminding her of why she’d always found him so attractive.

  “When you…when you seemed receptive, I assumed you’d finally succumbed to my personal charm,” Micah said. “Imagine my disappointment when I learned that you had been bewitched, not by me, but by an amulet.”

  “And several glasses of wine,” Raisa couldn’t resist saying.

  Micah dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “No. Wine doesn’t work on you. I tried that already.”

  Well! Raisa thought. You are being uncommonly frank.

  “Why can’t you be satisfied with having every other girl at court falling at your feet?” she asked. “Why do you always want what you can’t have?”

  “Why aren’t you asking me who was responsible for the seduction amulet, if not me?” he countered.

  “Because I don’t have to,” she said. “Tell me this—why would your father want you to seduce me? Was he trying to cause a scandal, to prevent my marrying a southerner?”

  “Well,” Micah said, rolling his eyes. “That would be a side benefit. The last thing we need is to have you marrying a southerner.”

  “I don’t understand this. Your father is magically bound to the Line of Queens. Why is he able to act contrary to their interests?”

  “How do you know he is? Acting contrary to their interests, I mean,” Micah said. He scanned the volumes on the nearest bookshelf. Running his hand along the dusty spines, he examined his palm, then wiped it on his trousers. Somehow it made him seem very young.

  “Blood of the demon, Micah. Spelling the princess heir against her will? That is treason. What did he hope to accomplish?”

  “My father expects we will be at war before long,” Micah said. “As soon as the civil war in Arden has ended.”

  That was just what Amon had said. “So? What does that have to do with me?”

  “We have to win against the southerners at all costs. That might mean discarding some of the archaic rules that have made us weak.”

  “Me, I like some of the old rules,” Raisa said. “Such as rules against treason.”

  “You know the Church of Malthus sees wizardry as heresy, right?” Micah said. “They burn wizards in the south.”

  The Church of Malthus had the reputation of being humorless, stern, and conservative. Raisa knew that much. But she’d not known their position on wizardry.

  “We’ll need all of our weapons if Arden attacks us,” Micah said. “We have to win. The clan must be made to see reason. We need unfettered access to the tools of magic.”

  “You had that,” Raisa said, weariness trumping diplomacy. “And you made a mess of things.”

  Why did they have to talk about this now? She felt tired and irritable, confused by this conversation, under siege by everyone. “Look, can we just go see what my mother wants so we can all go to bed?”

  Micah raked back his dark hair. “I just wanted you to know that none of this is my idea. I’m hoping that you can…that you’ll keep that in mind.”

  Her intuition pricked her again. Why was Micah Bayar giving this speech, taking her to see the queen in the middle of the night? What if she didn’t want to go?

  In fact, she wouldn’t go. She’d go back to her room, where Amon was waiting. Sort of.

  She circled around the table, meaning to slip past Micah and into the hallway. He must have seen something in her face, because he moved to block her path. “Come on, now,” he said. “We’d better hurry;we’re expected.”

  She shook her head. “Actually, I’m exhausted, and I’m not feeling well,” she said. “Please give my apologies to the queen, but I think I’d better go on to bed.”

  Micah sighed. “Raisa, I’m sorry, but I have to bring you. If it makes you feel any better, neither one of us has a choice, all right?”

  Raisa looked into his face and saw that he meant it, so she walked past him and turned toward the privy chamber. All the while, her mind raced, struggling to make sense of it.

  Neither one of us has a choice.

  Who was giving the orders, then? Her mother or Gavan Bayar?

  C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R

  UNHOLY

  CEREMONY

  Four guardsmen flanked the doors of the queen’s apartments. Holding her head high, Raisa swept past them, with Micah following behind. Raisa heard voices within, but as soon as she pushed the door open, the conversation stopped and several people turned toward them.

  Queen Marianna smiled, her cheeks flushed with excitement and wine, still wearing the stunning green dress she’d had on at dinner. Beside her, Gavan Bayar, also in his formal garb, and Micah’s sister, Fiona, her pale face alight with—what? Triumph? Satisfaction?

  And there, like a plump, giddy turkey among the foxes, was Speaker H
oras Redfern, chief cleric of the cathedral temple. Raisa had never cared for Redfern, who, in her opinion, spent too little time tending to his flock and too much time cozying up to the aristocracy.

  Redfern, too, looked as if he’d had a little too much to drink. He seemed rather frenetically cheerful.

  “And here they are now,” Queen Marianna said. She swept forward and kissed Raisa and Micah in turn.

  Raisa scanned the room. It had been transformed from the last time she’d seen it. There were flowers everywhere—two extravagant arrangements of lilies and roses on either side of an altar, bowls of blooms on all the tables, tucked in with thousands of flickering candles. An altar cloth was embroidered with entwined roses and falcons. A peculiar design. To one side was a serving table with wine buckets and glasses. Why, it looked almost like a…

  “How do you like it, sweetheart?” Queen Marianna took Raisa’s hands and gazed into her face as if eager for her approval. “We had very little time to put it together, but I think you can appreciate the importance of discretion. I know it may not be exactly what you pictured, but…”

  Raisa’s mouth was so dry she could scarcely spit out any words. “What…what is this?” she whispered. “Isn’t it late to be having a party?”

  “Your Majesty,” Lord Bayar said, his blue eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Perhaps you should explain.”

  “Raisa,” Queen Marianna said. “You know we’ve been talking—well, strategizing—about the best match for you now that you are eligible for marriage.”

  Raisa glanced at her mother, then at Gavan Bayar. “Who’s been talking—you and I, or you and them?”

  “All of us, of course. Remember, we agreed that a southerner is not the best choice just now with all the upheaval in Arden and Tamron.”

  “We never agreed on that,” Raisa said. “The war has to be over before long, and then we’ll have more options,” she said, thinking of Prince Liam. “An alliance between Tamron and the Fells might be enough to prevent invasion from Arden, if we time it right.”