“I don’t know, Lord Bayar,” Raisa said, her voice like sweet poison dripping into their ears. “The wizard council has been described to me as a nest of vipers. It may be that his street-fighting experience will serve him well in that environment.”
The council members shifted in their seats, looking everywhere but at the powerful High Wizard and the stubborn young queen. Han crossed his arms, affecting nonchalance, looking frankly back at anyone bold enough to meet his eyes.
“Princess Raisa, I beg you to reconsider,” said the red-haired woman. “There is some question as to whether Alister is truly gifted. He’s come out of nowhere, we know nothing about his family, and it seems his power has manifested only recently.”
“Lady Gryphon is right,” Bayar said. “There is talk that his so-called gifts are not gifts at all, but a manifestation of demonic possession, fueled by blood sacrifice.”
Takes a demon to know one, Han thought.
“I’m from Ragmarket, Lord Bayar,” he said, pulling away from the wall and standing, feet slightly apart. “And I came by my gifts in the usual way. As to why they didn’t surface earlier, well, there are reasons.”
Han’s gaze flicked to Lord Averill, who wore his trader face, then back to Bayar.
“As for my family, my father was Danel; he died as a mercenary in the southern wars,” Han went on. “My mother’s name was Sarah, called Sali, and my sister was Mari. They died last summer. But then you already knew that. Every time you forget, I’ll remind you. That’s the blood sacrifice I made to be here, and that’s enough.”
His words sent ripples through the council like a stone dropped into a pool. Han looked from face to face, and the only friendly one was Jemson’s. And Jemson looked worried.
Lady Gryphon cleared her throat. “That’s exactly my point, Your Highness. My son Adam was recently named to the council. When you compare his pedigree to that of a street thief, I think you’ll find that—”
“Lady Gryphon, your son was my teacher at Mystwerk House,” Han said. “If you have any questions about my credentials as a wizard, I suggest you send a note to Dean Abelard.”
“As it happens, Dean Abelard is on her way back to the Fells,” Lady Gryphon said. “We shall certainly ask her opinion; though, realistically, as a first-year student, you’d have had limited contact with the dean of Mystwerk House.”
“Actually, I saw quite a lot of Dean Abelard,” Han said, straightening his stoles. “She was…she was sort of a mentor to me.” He hadn’t intended on playing the Abelard card so soon, but just now it was a useful distraction.
Bayar’s eyes narrowed. Micah and Fiona would have already put a word in his ear about Abelard and Alister.
“Whatever Abelard says, Your Highness, you must weigh the risk in having such a person close to you,” Bayar began.
“This conversation is over,” Raisa said, bulling right through whatever Bayar intended to say. “I have made my decision, and Alister is my choice. It was my hope that the council would accept it with grace. Failing that, they had better learn to live with it.”
Lord Averill studied Han, eyes narrowed as if wondering what his sell-sword was up to.
Lord Bayar kept his eyes fixed on Raisa, and there was something in his gaze that gave Han the chills. He hadn’t survived on the streets as long as he had by overlooking murder in his enemies’ eyes.
The High Wizard inclined his head. “Very well, Your Highness. If Alister is your choice, we will certainly arrange to welcome him to the Council House on Gray Lady next week.” He still did not look at Han, as if acknowledging his presence would give him too much credit.
“I look forward to it,” Han said, displaying his streetlord smile. He tried to ignore the voice in his head—the one that said, Kill him now, Alister. Kill him now before he tries again.
“If that is everything, then we stand adjourned,” Raisa said abruptly. “Alister, Captain Byrne, Lord Demonai, Speaker Jemson, stay behind.”
She’s intentionally rubbing salt into the wounds she already made, Han thought.
The rest filed out, stiff-backed and silent.
Byrne poked his head out the door and spoke to someone just beyond, no doubt one of his bluejackets. Then he closed the door and returned to the table.
After a moment of awkward silence, Averill said, “You’ve made some enemies here today, daughter.”
“Do you think they were ever my friends, Father?” Raisa said bitterly, standing and pacing back and forth.
“They’ve never been your friends,” Averill said, “but now they have reason to think you will be difficult to manage.”
“Good,” Raisa said. “I won’t be managed, and I won’t be condescended to. ‘These are dangerous times, my dear,’” she mocked. “As if I don’t know that. They need to know that times have changed.”
“There have already been two attempts on your life,” Speaker Jemson said.
“Four, actually,” Raisa said, toying with the hilt of the dagger she always carried.
“Four, then,” Jemson amended. “I must admit I am worried, Your Highness.”
“So am I,” Raisa said. “But if we force their hands, they may make a mistake and we’ll have the proof we need. Otherwise, I can’t think of any way we’ll find out what really happened to my mother.”
“Or we’ll make a mistake, and you’ll be dead,” Byrne said. “They only need to get lucky once. We need to be perfect every time.”
My thinking exactly, Han said to himself.
As if she’d heard him, Raisa swung around and glared at Han. “What about you?” she demanded. “You’ve scarcely said a word. What do you think about all this?”
Han gathered his thoughts, surprised to be asked his opinion. “I think it might have been smart to wait until after the coronation to pick fights with Lord Bayar,” he said. “It’s like poking at a wasp’s nest—do it enough and you’ll get stung, no matter how careful you are. Trust me, I know.”
“You! You should talk,” Raisa said, opening and closing her hands as if she wanted to wrap them around somebody’s neck. “Do you think you made any friends in there?”
“Oh, they hated me already,” Han said, shrugging. “Don’t get me wrong: I think you’re right to start with the army. Until you’re in control of it, you’re at risk. It’s like running a gang that’s blood-sworn to your second in command. You don’t dare dismiss him ’cause they’ll turn on you. You already know that Klemath will fight like a demon to keep control of the army. If Klemath and Bayar throw in together, all you got is the guard.” He shrugged, nodding toward Byrne. “No disrespect to Captain Byrne, but that’s what Queen Marianna had, and she’s dead.”
“Briar Rose, you can’t be serious about a marriage with Gerard Montaigne,” Averill said, giving Han a “shut up” kind of look. “Please—tell me you’re not serious.”
“As long as I pretend to entertain the proposal from Montaigne, that keeps him in the south and drives a wedge between Klemath and Hakkam and Bayar,” Raisa replied. “They’ve been in bed together too often recently. The Council of Nobles will side with my uncle, especially if mercenaries do the fighting, and the crown pays the bills. Lord Hakkam will spend at least as much energy trying to engineer a match with my cousin Melissa as in serious negotiations for my betrothal.” She rolled her eyes. “Until I can get control of these people, I have to keep them from ganging up on me.”
“Was that why you had Lord Bayar read it out in council?” Jemson asked, understanding dawning on his face.
Raisa twisted the ring on her finger, smiling grimly. “Klemath had certainly read it already. There’s no telling who else. That thing has been opened and resealed so many times, it’s a miracle it’s still legible.”
She looked pointedly at Han. “You were saying?”
Don’t underestimate this girlie, Han reminded himself. Don’t ever do that. Some bluebloods grow up fast—just like streetlords.
He cleared his throat. “I agree you need to p
ush the thing with the army, chancy as it is. Soon as it’s safe, you ditch Klemath and put someone in place who’s beholden to you. So I think what you did was right, though maybe I would’ve done it at a different time.”
Raisa gazed at him for a long moment, then gave a quick nod. “Yes. Well. All right, then.”
“I did not realize you planned to name Hunts Alone to the Wizard Council, Your Highness,” Averill said, frowning. “When did you make that decision?”
Lord Demonai obviously thought he should have been in on it. Han waited, wondering if Raisa would say anything about his demand to be named to the council.
She didn’t.
“What choice did I have?” Raisa said, like she wasn’t happy about it. “I wasn’t going to send Fiona Bayar. This way, Alister can keep an eye on them.”
“General Klemath was right about one thing,” Speaker Jemson said. “These are dangerous times.”
Raisa said briskly, “What’s done is done. I expect you three to hold Klemath’s feet to the fire on the army issue. I want to see real progress within three months. Look over those mercenary contracts and see which ones are up for renewal. I’ll issue a writ that no new contracts are to be ratified without all four signatures. If you get resistance, let me know.” She sighed, rubbing her eyelids with the tips of her fingers. “I’m sorry to put you in this position,” she said, speaking through her hands. “I wish I had someone in the army I could trust.”
“Give me a little time, Your Highness,” Byrne said. “I’ll make a few inquiries and give you some names. Some of the officers are native born. Another possibility is to transfer some good officers from the Guard to the Army.”
“That’s what we don’t have, is time,” Raisa said. “So much to do, so little time and money.”
With that, she dismissed them. As Han passed through the cluster of bluejackets around the door, he looked back to see Raisa standing alone in her privy chamber, head down, twisting the wolf ring on her right hand.
She’s more worried than she lets on, Han thought.
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - N I N E
A GAME OF
SUITORS
Gerard Montaigne wasn’t the only one interested in a match with Raisa. As word spread throughout the Seven Realms that the missing princess heir had resurfaced and would be crowned Queen of the Fells, the flow of suitor gifts recommenced, from inside and outside the queendom. It was a mixed blessing. Raisa still hoped to put off marriage as long as possible, but her coffers were nearly empty and she wanted to continue to support the Briar Rose Ministry in Ragmarket and Southbridge.
To everyone else, an unmarried crown princess was seen as a loose end that should be either clipped or knitted up as soon as possible.
Dissonant messages of consolation on her mother’s death and congratulations on her impending coronation arrived from the other monarchs in the realms, salted with opening bids in the marriage auction. Some offered younger sons who needed thrones to sit upon, others suggested the joining of the Fells to “kingdoms” as far away as Bruinswallow and We’enhaven.
Although Raisa ana’Marianna was not yet crowned, and rumor had it she was keeping a thief as a paramour, and that she likely had a hand in Queen Marianna’s death, most were willing to overlook that in consideration of the queendom’s mineral-rich holdings. They’d heard the northern queens were all witches anyway.
Everyone abroad seemed eager to help a young orphaned queen govern her queendom. Everyone at home seemed anxious to get her married off as soon as possible, as long as it was to their favorite.
The Klemath brothers reemerged as suitors amid a plethora of local hopefuls.
The foremost marriage candidate from the uplands was Reid Nightwalker. He spent more time in the capital than Raisa could ever remember, because of his assignment to Averill’s guard. The Demonai warrior launched a quiet courtship—bringing gifts of fur throws and leatherwork and clan-made jewelry, perfumes and aromatics from the markets. Clearly, he hoped to follow in Averill’s footsteps, and marry a queen.
Raisa and Nightwalker took long walks through the gardens sometimes, her Gray Wolves following a respectful distance behind. Sometimes they rode into the hills surrounding the Vale, but always with an escort. Nightwalker listened more than he spoke, and he didn’t push as hard as he had in the past to go beyond kisses and caresses.
I could do worse, Raisa thought, as a political match, anyway. She ticked off the advantages: Nightwalker was unquestionably committed to Fellsian interests. He wouldn’t be trying to make the Fells a minor province in a faraway realm. He would support her efforts to clean up the Dyrnnewater and keep the Wizard Council in check. A marriage to him would reinforce the ties between the clans and the Gray Wolf line.
And it would serve the Bayars right, after all of their plotting and scheming to marry Raisa off to Micah.
All in all, Nightwalker seemed like the safest choice, the same one her mother had made. On the personal side, at least he was closer to her age than Averill had been to her mother’s. He was lithe and graceful and handsome. Although it was unlikely he would remain faithful to her, that wouldn’t affect the line, at least.
Micah Bayar was another matter. With Raisa’s return, he abruptly left off his pursuit of Mellony. As a result, Mellony moped about, tearful and sullen much of the time, trying Raisa’s patience.
You’re just thirteen, Raisa thought. And a princess. Get used to it.
Me, I’m done with romantic entanglements. Everybody I get involved with is either forbidden or unavailable or mad at me.
For instance: Han Alister was by turns brisk and businesslike, cold and unreadable, or slightly mocking. He deftly deflected or ignored Raisa’s many attempts to restore or rekindle their friendship.
They’d had one “tutoring session,” and it had been a disaster. Alone together in her privy chamber, she’d rattled on like a runaway horse, dissecting the politics at court until she was entirely bored with herself.
Han had sat there clenching the arms of his chair, stony-faced and glaze-eyed, like he wasn’t hearing half of what she said. Raisa was exquisitely aware of him, constantly measuring the physical and emotional distance between them.
Their next two sessions had been canceled and rescheduled—once by him, for undisclosed reasons, and once by Raisa because of a conflicting meeting.
Why does he even bother? she thought. I am at a total loss for what to say to him that would do any good. I don’t know how to go about rebuilding trust between us—or if that’s even possible.
There is one thing I can do, Raisa thought. I can’t give Han Alister a pedigree, but I can give him a title. And a home to replace the one that was burnt on Marianna’s orders. Maybe that would make him feel more secure—more at ease at court.
She thrust away the nagging thought that neither her father nor the Bayars would be happy about it.
I’m not here to make them happy, she told herself.
Plans for her coronation proceeded amid the hard work of governing. Invitations to the coronation ball were sent out, and acceptances flooded back from throughout the Seven Realms. Some were likely curiosity-seekers who wanted to see what the headstrong princess heir would do next now that she was on her own, without maternal supervision.
Those who hoped to woo and wed her would come, for fear she might be married off in a hurry and they would miss an opportunity.
Others were no doubt looking to enjoy a week of hospitality at somebody else’s expense. Or maybe they were eager to see what a real witch looked like.
Most of the thanes from Arden declined, citing the demands of the ongoing war. But, to Raisa’s surprise, King Geoff Montaigne of Arden sent word that he would attend, along with his queen and two children.
He must be feeling more confident about his hold on the throne, Raisa thought; to leave Arden at this time. From what the queendom’s spies reported, Geoff had mustered near unanimous support among the war-weary southern thanes.
Raisa
hoped he wasn’t another Gerard. At least this Montaigne was already married.
There was no response from Tamron, either from the Tomlins or Gerard Montaigne. She guessed that was a good thing—it would be awkward to have two kings of Arden in attendance. Meanwhile, Lord Hakkam’s negotiations with Gerard’s representatives dragged on.
Raisa submitted to multiple fittings under Magret’s supervision. She needed a dress for the coronation ceremony itself, a gown for the ball, dresses for all the parties that would occur before and after. It wouldn’t do for Raisa to wear the same thing to more than one party.
“Maybe I could just swap with somebody,” Raisa groused. “We shouldn’t be spending this kind of money on clothes I’ll probably wear once.”
Magret rolled her eyes. “As if anyone could fit into your clothes,” she said. “And you would swim in anybody else’s. A coronation happens once in your life, Your Highness. As does a wedding,” she added pointedly.
Raisa made sure that Mellony was well outfitted also. She hoped that the series of social events would lift her younger sister out of her funk. And, indeed, while Raisa tolerated the fittings, they seemed to cheer Mellony considerably. Raisa’s younger sister loved trying on clothes. Like Marianna, she was fond of parties.
There were long sessions in the Cathedral Temple with Speaker Jemson, rehearsing for the coronation. That’s my life from here on in, Raisa thought dispiritedly. One ceremony after another. But Speaker Jemson was kind and funny. He took the coronation seriously, but it helped that he didn’t take himself too seriously.
The Gray Wolves had been assigned to Raisa’s personal guard, and so would play an important role in the coronation ceremony. At rehearsals, they stood stiff and solemn, brows furrowed in concentration. In a way, it made it worse that they were friends. Raisa knew they would never forgive themselves if they made some misstep that marred her big day.
Raisa missed her easy camaraderie with the Wolves. They were constantly around her, but now the barrier of rank stood between them. It was hard to relax with someone who came to attention whenever you entered the room.
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