The Seven Realms- The Complete Series

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “He doesn’t control me now,” Raisa snapped.

  “He means to marry you,” Han said, staring out over the valley. “Just so you know.”

  Raisa resisted the impulse to look back at Nightwalker. “What makes you think that?”

  “He’s not that hard to figure out.” He lifted his chin, the angled light revealing a faint reddish stubble in profile.

  Raisa wrenched her mind back to the conversation. “Well, if he wants to marry me, he’ll have to stand in line,” she said. “I’m sick and tired of being a means to an end.”

  Han turned to look at her, puzzlement flickering over his face. “A means to an end. You? What do you mean?”

  “Everybody wants to marry the bloody throne. Nobody would be interested if I lived in Ragmarket. I think I’ll stay a maid.”

  “You have to marry, right? So you can assure a peaceful succession?” He’d resumed his carefully blank expression, but she noticed his hands were fisted at his sides.

  “Like the one we’re having right now?” She waited, and when he said nothing, went on. “I know you agree with me,” Raisa said. “I need to get back to the palace immediately or chance losing the throne.”

  “And you’re telling me this because…?”

  “I need your help. To return to Fellsmarch, I mean. I’ll need protection.”

  Han shrugged. “Wasn’t that the agreement? That I’d fight the Wizard Council on behalf of the clans and the true line of queens?” That detached, mocking tone was becoming annoyingly familiar.

  I’ve hurt him, Raisa thought. I’ve hurt him badly, and violated his trust. Somehow I have to find a way to win it back. To win him back. To prove myself to him.

  “I wasn’t there when the agreement was made,” Raisa said, looking into his eyes. “Anyway, that was between you and the clans. I know you’re still resentful of the bargain you made—understandably. I don’t need some grudging, halfhearted letter-of-the-law effort. That will get me killed.”

  “That’d be a shame,” Han murmured. He paused, thinking, his fair brows drawn together. “Isn’t that Corporal Byrne’s job? Protecting you, I mean? You planning to make him Captain of the Queen’s Guard?”

  Raisa nodded. “He already is, in a way. I’ll make it public at the coronation. But I’ll need both of you,” she said. “Even that might not be enough.”

  “What’s in it for me?” Han asked, squinting into the distance. “I’m a sell-sword, after all. What are you offering in trade, since you seem intent on buying me all over again.” His tone was light, but Raisa heard the trader underneath the words.

  “What do you want?” Raisa asked.

  Han pretended to study on it, but she suspected he had the answers ready. “Well, first off, I’ll need a crib in the palace so I can keep an eye on you and everyone else. A nice place, mind you,” he said, narrowing his eyes as if she might try to cheat him out of his due. “Big enough so guests can stay over. Adjoining your rooms.”

  “Adjoining my…” Raisa frowned. “No. That’s not possible.” Having a wizard next door was not a good idea. It had never been done. Even Gavan Bayar and Queen Marianna had kept a gallery between them.

  Han raised his hands, palms up. “Do you want protection or not? Do you want me clear across the palace when you need me?” When she still hesitated, he added, “You asked what I wanted, remember? I won’t take a job if I can’t do it right. You know who’ll get the blame if it goes wrong.”

  “All right,” she said, wondering how Amon Byrne would react to this idea. “But no guests. Not right next door to my chambers.” For security reasons, she told herself.

  He smiled crookedly. “Your Highness, I have lots of friends who’ve never even been in a palace and—”

  She held up her hand. “Never mind, Alister. I can tell this isn’t going to work. I’ll take my chances with—”

  “You win,” he interrupted, as if knowing he’d pushed too far. “No guests—overnight, anyway.”

  She gazed into his face for a long moment, and he looked back steadily. “All right, then, so we are agreed. We—”

  “Second, I’ll need a monthly stipend,” he said. “The clans are paying my living expenses, but I don’t want to have to rely on that, in case they get aggravated with me. I got people to keep in the city, so—” He looked sideways at her, as if to assess the size of her purse. “Fifty girlies to start.”

  “Fifty girlies!” Raisa rolled her eyes. “Who are you keeping? A harem of fancy girls?” It wouldn’t surprise her, given the stories she’d heard about the streetlord Cuffs Alister.

  “It isn’t your business what I do with the money,” Han said. “You just have to decide whether it’s worth it to you.”

  Raisa sighed. “All right. Fifty girlies. I’ll speak with the steward when we—”

  “Third, you need to keep teaching me manners,” he broke in. “Protocol, dress, dancing, everything I need to know to be at court. Twice a week, an hour, minimum.”

  “Really?” Raisa raised an eyebrow. “Seems to me you’re doing all right on your own—when you make the effort, that is. But if that’s what you want, I will arrange for a tutor to—”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You. I want you to do it, just the two of us. It will give us a good excuse to meet in private on a regular basis.” There was something in his gaze, something that suggested this was some kind of test that she needed to pass.

  Raisa pressed her lips together to keep any words from spilling. And nodded her assent. Access was one of a monarch’s favors to give away, and Han wanted guaranteed access on an ongoing basis. It was clever on his part.

  “All right,” she said. “There can’t possibly be anything else.”

  “One last thing. I want you to name me to the Wizard Council,” Han said.

  Raisa stared at him. “What?”

  “Back at Oden’s Ford, when I asked about the council, you said that the queen appoints one member. That’s what I want.”

  “I thought you hated the Wizard Council,” Raisa said. “Why would you want to be a member?”

  “Maybe I want to be a member of a club that would never let me in otherwise,” Han said. “Just to give them the itches.”

  “Isn’t that whom you’re supposed to be fighting?” Raisa’s voice rose.

  Han put his finger to his lips. “Shhh. I’ll be hacking at the council from the inside. But the Demonai won’t understand. That’s one reason I need a stipend from you.”

  “If they think you’ve turned, you’ll be risking more than your income,” Raisa said.

  “I’ll take that chance,” Han said. “I’ll be working for you, and you’re the queen, right?”

  Raisa rubbed her forehead. “Are you sure you’re not a trader under the skin?” she asked.

  “We’re all traders in Ragmarket,” Han said.

  Raisa thought it over. Truth be told, she preferred Han Alister to most anyone else she could think of appointing to the council. He was likely less dangerous, since he had no preexisting alliances or family connections. And she couldn’t imagine that he’d ever ally himself with the Bayars. “All right,” Raisa said. “I’ll appoint you to the Wizard Council.”

  Han spit in his palm and held out his hand.

  Rolling her eyes, Raisa spit in her own palm and clasped his.

  “Briar Rose?”

  Raisa looked up, startled. Reid Nightwalker had approached without her noticing. His dark eyes flicked from Raisa to Han. “The horses are grained and rested and we’re ready to go,” he said. “It’s another two hours to Marianna Peak.”

  Han smiled. “We’re done,” he said, and walked toward the horses with something of a swagger.

  Reid stared after him.

  Raisa wondered how much he had overheard.

  She wondered if Han had intended that he overhear.

  Who was the real player—her or Han Alister? And what was his game?

  She was in over her head in so many ways. Vulnerable to him in
so many ways.

  I’ve got to get better at this, she thought, if I’m going to survive.

  C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T H R E E

  MAKING SHOW

  It was midafternoon when they arrived on the north slope of Marianna, just below the joining of her twin peaks. The Demonai had sent several warriors ahead to scout the area and make sure the way was clear of unfriendly eyes.

  Night Bird was one of them. She returned to say that the regular army had established a light perimeter to the north of the memorial site.

  “They’ve posted soldiers upslope from the memorial site, but not many,” she said. “Most have been sent downslope, since they seem more worried about threats from below. There is a huge crowd already gathered, and more coming all the time. The Queen’s Guard has erected barricades around the memorial site itself, but the entire slope of Marianna is already packed with people.”

  “Really?” Elena said, her brow crinkling. “What kind of people? Soldiers, or…”

  “Within the perimeter, it’s jinxflingers and the Vale nobility and soldiers,” Night Bird said. “Downslope, they’re regular citizens. Not bluebloods, but tradespeople and laborers, line soldiers and scholars. Probably thieves and pickpockets, too. Thousands of people.”

  Raisa glanced at Han, who seemed totally focused on Night Bird. He wore his politely interested street face.

  Night Bird continued her report. “I spoke with the corporal in charge of the Guard and told them that Elena Cennestre and a small party of clan royalty and Demonai warriors would be arriving soon from the north. I said that after the ceremony we’d be camping overnight on the north slope, then returning home tomorrow or the next day.”

  Strategically, that was a good place to be. The Demonai could place archers on the heights, and that would leave a back door open for a hasty retreat, if need be.

  “Who was the corporal?” Raisa asked. “The one in charge?”

  “Corporal Fallon,” Bird replied. “Mason Fallon.”

  A cold rivulet of apprehension trickled between Raisa’s shoulder blades. Someone else she didn’t know, handpicked by her enemies. She was glad Amon would be there.

  “What’s the arrangement for the memorial?” Elena said.

  “They’ve pitched several large pavilions around the queen’s pyre,” Night Bird said. “One flies the Gray Wolf banner, so it is likely the Princess Mellony is there. Another bears the Bayar pennant. A third carries the unlidded eye, though I didn’t see Lord Demonai. The tomb is upslope from the memorial site, built into the side of the mountain. A number of people are milling around, making preparations.”

  “Did you see Corporal Byrne?” Raisa asked.

  Bird shook her head. “He’s escorting the queen’s body. A smaller tomb for the late captain is to be built downslope from the queen’s. I saw several flatland soldiers guarding the site.”

  So Captain Byrne would be buried near his queen, Raisa thought. In the arms of her mountain. And Amon was there, waiting for her. And the rest of the Gray Wolves—friends she hadn’t seen since Oden’s Ford. Friends she could depend on. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Good.

  “Fallon said that Speaker Jemson would conduct a brief service—first for Captain Byrne, and then for the queen. Then Queen Marianna’s body will be committed to the flame, freeing her spirit to take up residence in the mountain. The High Wizard and a representative of the Council of Regents will also speak.”

  “But not the Princess Mellony?” Raisa asked.

  Bird shook her head. “They say the princess is too grief-stricken to speak.”

  Or too intimidated by her keepers, Raisa thought grimly. If she would be queen, she needs to learn to speak up. Her people need to hear directly from her.

  They set up a temporary camp under cover of the forest, then gathered one last time—Raisa, along with Reid Nightwalker Demonai, Willo Watersong, Elena Cennestre, Han Alister, and Fire Dancer.

  “Briar Rose,” Elena said. “I know that you want to be present for your mother’s service. I still say it would be safest if you watch from the crest of the mountain. We could leave a party of warriors with you as guard. That way, you can see everything and yet be out of harm’s way.”

  Raisa shook her head. “I will attend my mother’s service,” she said. “We have already discussed this.”

  Elena sighed and rubbed her chin. “I thought you would say that.” She put a hand on Raisa’s arm. “Then I beg of you. You are dressed like a Demonai. If you must descend to the tomb, then you’re unlikely to be recognized if we ride as a group, with you hidden in our midst.”

  “Grandmother, I must participate in the service as the princess heir,” Raisa said. “Before as many witnesses as possible, so that they cannot later deny that I have returned to the queendom. It’s the only way to secure my succession to the throne.”

  “You cannot ascend the Gray Wolf throne if you are dead,” Elena retorted. “We cannot protect you if you wade into a crowd. I know you are eager to prove that you are not a coward, but—”

  “I’m not doing this to prove anything except my presence and intention to ascend to the throne,” Raisa said. “I am doing this to honor my mother.”

  “If you live to be crowned, I hope that obstinacy will serve you well as queen,” Elena growled.

  “Han Alister is pledged to secure my safety—that was your doing, remember?” Raisa said. “And Fire Dancer has agreed to help. We’ve worked out a plan, and we need to follow it.”

  All eyes turned to Han, who stood, feet slightly apart, arms folded across his chest, his brilliant hair feathered by the downslope breeze. His hunter amulet glowed against the sober black of his tunic.

  Fire Dancer had left the group to fetch the panniers he’d been carrying all day. Unstrapping the lids, he lifted out a glittering steel breastplate and gauntlets with the Gray Wolf emblem emblazoned on them.

  “Armor?” Elena said. “You’re wearing armor? That’s the plan? You think that will protect you against wizard flame?”

  “No, Grandmother, but it will protect me against other kinds of assassins,” Raisa said. “Remember, Queen Marianna died in a fall from a tower. Captain Byrne was shot through with arrows. This way, wizards won’t be able to hire others to do their dirty work for them. They’ll have to come out into the open if they want to take me on.”

  Elena fingered the breastplate, running her worn fingers over the beading at the neck and the faint runes etched into the sides. She looked up at Raisa, eyes glittering. “This is Demonai work. Who made this, Briar Rose, and when? There’s considerable power in it.”

  “I made it,” Dancer said, setting the panniers aside. He stood and turned to face her. “It’s my work.”

  An angry murmur arose among the Demonai warriors.

  “You?” Elena stared at him. “But that’s impossible. You’re a—”

  “I’m a flashcrafter, Elena Cennestre,” Dancer said, lifting his chin. “Or mean to be.”

  “Who’s teaching you?” Elena demanded. “Because whoever it is plays a dangerous game.”

  “Just stop it!” Raisa said. “How can we expect to win against our enemies when we keep bickering among ourselves?”

  This is my life from now on, she thought. Sorting out squabbles among wizards, clan, and Valefolk.

  “Wizards are not allowed to craft magical weaponry, Your Highness,” Elena said. “It concentrates too much power in their hands.”

  “That’s not part of the Nǽming,” Dancer said, setting his feet stubbornly. “That’s not written.”

  “It’s not written because no one ever expected that a jinxflinger would be born into the camps,” Nightwalker said. “Or would live long enough to—”

  “Fire Dancer’s gifts come from the Maker,” someone said in a loud clear voice. “Who are we to question the Maker’s will?”

  Raisa swung around. It was Night Bird, the young Demonai warrior. The one who still worshipped at the altar of Reid Nightwalker.


  There followed a stunned silence. Dancer and Han flat-out stared at her, but Nightwalker looked the most astonished of all.

  “Perhaps Dancer’s unique talents are just what we need right now,” Night Bird went on. “Perhaps we should welcome any gift that helps keep this queen safe.”

  Reid Nightwalker’s expression turned from astonishment to betrayal. “Night Bird, think again,” he said. “Some gifts are better declined.”

  “Who decides that?” Han said. “Not the Demonai.”

  “I have decided,” Raisa said in a loud voice. “I have decided to accept Fire Dancer’s gift, and that ends the discussion. You all will go down and join the others at the memorial site. Han, Dancer, and I will remain here until it is time for the service to begin.”

  “Why don’t you ride down with us now?” Nightwalker asked, eying Han, making no attempt to hide his mistrust.

  “I need to be seen as queen of all the people of the Fells—Valefolk, wizards, and the Spirit clans,” Raisa said. “I’m already dressed in clan garb. If I ride in with upland clan, I’ll appear to belong to you.” Surveying the sea of frowns around her, she added, “Don’t worry, I don’t mean to die today.”

  Reid Nightwalker insisted on staying behind with Raisa and a small party of Demonai—in case of ambush, he said. Whether by Han Alister or somebody else, he didn’t say. Raisa and her party stood in the fringes of the trees, watching the rest of the Demonai descend to the tomb. Including Bird, whom Nightwalker sent on with the others.

  Raisa sat down with the copy of the Book of Temple Prayers and Liturgy she’d brought from Marisa Pines. Han and Dancer rested under a tree, talking softly, their hands on their amulets, storing as much power as possible in the time they had left. Reid Nightwalker and his warriors kept watch on events below. Willo sorted through the bundles of cloth that had come out of her saddlebags.

  Raisa read and reread the passages assigned to her, struggling to concentrate, speaking the powerful words under her breath, committing them once again to memory.

  Raisa had studied the prayers in preparation for her name day, but she’d never actually attended a state funeral. Queen Lissa, her grandmother, had died before Raisa was born. Marianna, too, had ascended to the throne at a young age. Raisa couldn’t help wondering if her mother would have done better had she had more time to grow into the job.