“Well,” Raisa said, “I hope we can keep it within the camp until we—Bones!” She slammed her fist into her other palm as a thought struck her. “This won’t work if any of those who tried to kill me returned to Fellsmarch saying that I got away. If they did, they’ll be on the watch for me to return to the city.”
“Let’s hope that Hunts Alone is well enough to answer questions in a day or two,” Willo said.
Han. A wave of weariness and despair washed over Raisa, and she leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Your Highness,” Willo said. “You must rest. All of these problems will still be here tomorrow.”
Raisa nodded, wishing it were not so. Wishing she could go to sleep and wake up to a world with her mother still in it. A world where she would be safe and protected for a little while longer.
C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N
WALKING
WOUNDED
The others dispersed to various lodges for the night. Willo slept on a cot in Han’s room, in case he needed anything. Amon would have bedded down in his clothes in front of the door to the common room where Raisa slept, but Willo had the apprentices set up a cot for him.
Weary as she was, Raisa couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Her back ached despite the willow bark tea she’d taken for pain. Every time she closed her eyes, scenes from the past intruded, actions she wished she could remake with the wisdom of hindsight. She lay on her stomach, tears dampening her pillow, a vast aching hollow in her middle.
She heard Amon tossing and turning on his cot by the door.
Guilt and grief thickened the air, smothering her, making it difficult to breathe. No. She could not—she would not allow Amon to torment himself.
She sat up, easing her back against the wall, wary of pressing on her wound. “Amon?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
His answer came back through the darkness. “Yes. Do you need something?”
“Come sit with me? Please?”
She heard the creak of his cot as he sat up, putting his feet on the floor. He padded over and sat down on the cot next to her. It sagged under his weight. “Are you all right? Do you want me to call Willo?”
Raisa shook her head. “Neither of us is sleeping, and we’re both hurting, and I really, really want to talk to you.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Amon asked. “Willo said you should rest.”
“I think talking would do me more good.” Raisa patted the bed next to her. “Here. Lean against the wall.”
Amon slid toward the head of the cot and arranged himself next to her, trying to get comfortable in the narrow space.
She took his hand, cradling it between her own. “Just stop it,” she said. “Stop blaming yourself.”
For a long moment he said nothing, a dark silhouette in the light from the window. Then, “What makes you think I’m blaming myself?”
He was still a terrible liar.
“Because I know you. If anyone’s to blame for all of this, it’s me.”
He raked his free hand through his hair. “Why would you blame yourself? None of this is your fault.”
“Not my fault? Where do I start?” Raisa bit her lip. “If I hadn’t left the Fells, none of this would have happened. My mother would still be alive, and your father, and all the guards who died defending me.” She shuddered. “If I had stayed home, maybe we could have worked out our differences.”
Amon thought this over. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t come back with an immediate denial. “Well,” he said, “you had no way of knowing how it would come out.”
“You had no way of knowing,” Raisa said. “I’m supposed to have the gift of prophesy. Why couldn’t I have seen how it would end?”
“Prophesy never seems to work that way,” Amon said. “Even when people see the future, they don’t understand it, or they don’t believe it, or they close their eyes to it.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Amon said, “I’ve been wondering this ever since you disappeared from Oden’s Ford. What happened? Was it Micah?”
“Lord Bayar sent four assassins to Oden’s Ford to murder me. Micah offered me an alternative—marry him instead. So I agreed.”
Understanding dawned in Amon’s gray eyes. “So Micah was the one that killed the assassins?”
Raisa nodded.
“Ah,” Amon said. “That’s one mystery solved. We couldn’t figure that out—who would have killed them with wizardry.”
“Well,” Raisa said, leaning against him, “I managed to kill one on my own.” It all seemed so long ago, on the far shore of a turbulent sea of events. “We were on our way north when we ran into Gerard Montaigne’s army on its way into Tamron. A Tamric patrol showed up, and I escaped in the confusion.”
“I knew you had gone north, I could feel it,” Amon said. “Since you were spotted during the skirmish, I thought you’d likely gone to Tamron Court.”
She shook her head. “I decided to go on home since I was halfway there.”
“I should have kept a closer eye on you at Oden’s Ford,” Amon said. “We knew you’d eventually run into the Bayars.”
Raisa shook her head. “No. Stop. That was my fault too. It was my letter to my mother that gave me away.” She swiped away a tear that had somehow leaked out.
“What letter? The one your father mentioned?”
“I persuaded Hallie to carry a letter from me to Queen Marianna, via my father,” Raisa said. “I wanted her to know why I left, and that I was coming back. I should have known the Bayars would be watching everyone close to me in case I tried to get in contact. That’s how they found out I was at Oden’s Ford. It wasn’t a random sighting at all.” She swallowed hard. “And it may have been my letter that caused her to change the succession the way she did.”
“Well.” Amon considered this. “Maybe otherwise she’d have disinherited you entirely.”
“But she might still be alive,” Raisa said.
“But for how long?” Amon said. “Once Mellony was set to inherit, they’d want to make it happen and put Micah on the throne.”
Long enough for me to see her again, Raisa thought.
They sat in silence for a while. Finally Raisa spoke.
“Your turn. I thought…When your father told me you were in Tamron Court, and Montaigne had the city under siege, I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
He squeezed her hand, but said nothing.
“So what happened?” Raisa said. “Captain Byrne said you intentionally gave out the story that I was in the city in order to keep Montaigne occupied.”
Amon grunted.
“Weren’t you afraid of what Prince Gerard would do when he found out you’d fooled him?” Raisa said.
Amon shrugged, looking down at their joined hands.
“Will you say something, please?” Raisa said, exasperated. “What were you thinking? How did you get away?”
He sighed heavily. “Just be glad you weren’t there, Rai,” he said. “Gerard is a monster, but the royal family of Tamron isn’t much better. Those Tomlins spend most of their time plotting against each other. When all else fails, they resort to poison. During the siege, the entire city was starving, but King Markus hosted a feast every night inside the palace. He was furious when Queen Marianna wouldn’t send an army to drive off Montaigne—even though he’d lied to her. He threatened to kill off the Gray Wolves, one each day, ending with me, if the Fells didn’t respond.”
Raisa’s mouth went dry. “What? How could he possibly blame you if…?”
“Don’t try to apply logic to what he does,” Amon said. After a thick pause, he added, “Wode Mara was the first.”
Raisa stiffened and sat upright. “Wode? He’s…he’s dead?”
Amon nodded, twisting the gold wolf ring on his finger. “And don’t ask me how he died, because I’m not going to tell you.”
Wode was a red-haired cadet, with a broad, pleasant, perpetually sunburned face. He had a girl back in C
halk Cliffs, and was saving up to marry her.
“That’s not possible,” Raisa whispered.
“I thought I would have to kill Markus myself, but Liam Tomlin beat me to it. He and his sister poisoned him.”
“Liam? Poisoned his father?” Raisa recalled Liam and his sister, the Princess Marina, at her name day party—both tall, graceful charmers, with soft curls and strong noses. And a way with poison, apparently.
I’m not ready to be queen, Raisa thought, shuddering. I’m not ready to go up against all these ruthless people. I’m not ready to play this high-stakes game as ruler of the Fells.
“Liam was crowned king, but he didn’t get to enjoy it for very long,” Amon said. “Montaigne breached the walls two days later. And after that…after that it was a massacre.” Amon closed his eyes, the lashes dark against his pale cheeks.
“How did you get away?” Raisa asked. “And—and what about the rest of the Gray Wolves?”
“Tamron is soft, and the Ardenines know it,” Amon said. “They aren’t used to fighting for their lives. The Ardenines were focused on two things—capturing you and the Tomlins, and stealing everything that wasn’t bolted down. They slaughtered everyone who got in the way.” Amon passed his hand over his face as if to wipe the memory away.
“So we each killed an Ardenine soldier of the right size, and stole the uniforms. We’ve all been to the academy; we speak the language well enough to pass. We sieved through the lines while they were otherwise occupied. We went northeast to Swansea because we knew the roads to Fetters Ford and Oden’s Ford would be closely watched.
“But the worst part—the worst part was, I knew you were in trouble. I knew you were in danger, I knew you were dying, and I couldn’t get to you.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t reach you. You can’t imagine…what that was like.” His voice shook.
Raisa recalled Amon’s voice in her head. Don’t you die, Rai, don’t you give in.
“I think that your father had a premonition,” Raisa said. “It was almost like he knew what would be demanded of him, and he made the sacrifice.”
“It should have been me,” Amon said, blotting his eyes with his sleeve. “I am your captain. I am responsible for your safety.”
“You are responsible for the Gray Wolf line, remember? The line comes first, not the individual queen. Your father saved the line. I need you, Amon. I need a captain. If I’m going to build a queendom out of this mess, I need one person I can trust. I need you to be alive, understand?”
Raisa leaned her head against Amon’s shoulder again. Neither of them said anything for a long while.
“Where is the Wolfpack?” Raisa said. What’s left of them, she added silently.
“Right now they’re assigned to the Queen’s Guard in the capital,” Amon said. “Awaiting orders. I’m hoping they can give us early warning of any plans afoot from the other side.”
“If they are planning Mellony’s coronation,” Raisa said, “what will they do for a captain of the Queen’s Guard?”
“Hmm,” Amon said, frowning, “I hadn’t thought of that. The knowledge about the linking has been kept within our family and the speakers of the temple. Mellony won’t know about it, and the Bayars won’t know, either.”
“It’s always been a Byrne,” Raisa said. “They’ll want everything to seem as normal as possible. They won’t want to provide any excuse to question the succession. Beyond what’s already there, I mean.”
Amon turned his head to look at her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying don’t be surprised if they offer you the job,” Raisa said. “If it gets that far.”
“No.” Amon shook his head. “There’s no way they would want me next to Mellony. They’ll choose someone more malleable.”
“We’ll see,” Raisa said. “They won’t know you’re already named as my captain. They’re used to working around your father. You’re young, and they don’t know how capable you are.”
“Like I would ever agree to that,” Amon said, sitting up straighter. “Serve as captain to your sister at the request of my father’s murderers.”
“Amon.” Raisa put her hand on his arm. “You’re not supposed to know any of that. When they ask, be ready to say yes.”
“What?” He stared at her.
“If you say no, that will tell them everything they need to know. They’ll know whose side you’re on. They’ll suspect I’m alive, or at least that you know more than you’re saying. It will be your death warrant.”
“That wouldn’t ever work,” Amon said, stubborn resistance on his face.
“I didn’t tell you to actually serve,” Raisa said softly. “Just say yes when they ask, all right? Practice until you’re good at it.”
“Hmmmph,” he said, not making any promises. After a pause, he said, “How did you get away? After my father was killed, I mean?”
“After your father went down, Mac Gillen dragged me off so he could see to me personally. That probably saved my life. I killed him with your father’s dagger, took his horse, and made a run for it, hoping to make Marisa Pines before they caught up with me. After I was hit, I crawled in among some rocks. When I realized that the arrow was poisoned, I knew I was done for.” She tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact, the story brief and to the point. The guilt Amon carried was heavy enough as it was.
“That’s the last I remember. I guess we’ll have to ask Han Alister the rest of it. Apparently, he showed up out of nowhere, saved my life with high magic, and brought me here to Marisa Pines.” She sighed. “Elena and Nightwalker don’t seem to believe that story.”
Amon cleared his throat. “When you disappeared from Oden’s Ford, Alister and I—we talked some. I don’t know what to make of him. I don’t know what drives him, and I don’t exactly trust him, but…” He hesitated, but his relentless honesty drove him on. “He told me he was traveling back to the Fells to look for you. He’d go via Marisa Pines Pass, and I’d take the western route. So that explains how he came to be there.”
“I don’t know what will happen when he finds out who I really am,” Raisa said. “If he even survives.” She shivered, and Amon put his arm around her, drawing her into his steady warmth.
“It’s that bad?”
Raisa nodded. “He looked…he looked awful, Amon. Willo doesn’t know if he’ll…She’s worried about him. My mother died, and I never got to tell her that I loved her, that I finally understood—just a little, anyway. If Han dies too, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
She was weeping again, surrendering to grief and pain and fear. “I lied to him, Amon. Day after day after day. I pretended to be someone I wasn’t. I allowed him to get close to me, knowing that we had no future together.”
“You had no choice,” Amon said.
“I could have trusted him,” Raisa said. “Now he’s going to question everything. He’s going to think that everything—everything was a lie.”
“How do you know what his intentions were?” Amon said, blunt as always. “He has a reputation in Ragmarket, you know.”
Raisa hesitated, unsure whether to go forward. “It’s hard to explain—my memory is so jumbled. But when he healed me, it was like he opened up to me. Like he had no secrets. Like I got to know him in a way that…” She trailed off, taking in Amon’s pained expression.
“He is a wizard, Rai,” Amon said. “Remember that.”
Raisa nodded, straightening, blotting at her eyes. “I’ll remember,” she said, recalling Althea’s warning: You must not allow yourself to be ensnared as Marianna was. “Anyway. What’s done is done. I should have been there for my mother, but I wasn’t. I should have died in the canyon, but I didn’t. In a way, this is a new beginning. We have to put all these regrets behind us and look ahead. We can’t spend energy on what might have been. If we do, our enemies will eat us alive.”
She looked up at Amon hopefully. “We can’t change the past, but we can shape the future.”
And as she said it, she realized
that it applied to more than politics.
She’d spent the past year yearning for Amon Byrne, agonizing over what would never be between them, immersed in regret. She’d pushed the issue in ways that were unfair to both of them.
She remembered what Edon Byrne had told her, with the authority of someone who knew what it was to sacrifice love to duty.
You serve, he’d said. You find happiness where you can. In love or not, you find a way to continue the line.
She loved Amon Byrne; some part of her would love him all her life. But the way she’d handled it had prevented her from enjoying what she could have with him. He was her very best friend—had always been her very best friend.
And she needed friends more than ever now.
They slept side by side that night, arms wrapped around each other, as they had a hundred times as children. They were two wounded people—new orphans cut loose and lonely, and they needed each other.
The magical barrier between captain and queen never interfered.
C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N
WORD GAMES
Han had slept in the Matriarch Lodge at Marisa Pines Camp nearly every summer of his life. The sounds and smells seeped into his pores, they soothed him, and had made him feel safe in a way he’d never felt at home.
Now he was back here again, but this time, every sensation was painfully amplified. The pressure of a blanket on his skin was excruciating, the voices in the room clamored in his ears, he was hot, he was cold, his skin prickled and burned as if a thousand biting insects feasted on him. His eyelids felt like sandpaper, scratching his eyes. He wanted to shed his skin like a snake.
When they took his amulet, they’d ripped out his heart, leaving a gaping hole where the magic poured out. Whenever people came near him, they hurt him, poured boiling water into his mouth, shredded his tender skin with hard, rough hands. They tried to boil him alive and freeze him to death by turns. He fought back. He tried to strike out at them whenever they came near, so they mostly kept their distance.
When he thought he would drown in his own saliva, they turned him over and let it run out of his mouth. Several times his entire body seized up, going rigid for minutes at a time. All of his muscles ached for hours after the spasms passed.
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