“What are you doing here?”
Han whirled around, his hand on his useless amulet.
Fiona stood between Han and the open hatchway. Her usually pristine clothes were streaked with dust, and she wore a black smudge, like a gang sign, on her right cheek.
“Studying,” he said. “Reading. What else would I do in a library?”
“Without notes? Without papers?”
Han looked at his empty hands as if he’d never seen them before. “I left all that downstairs. Too heavy to carry.” It was not his finest hour as a liar.
She put her hands on her hips. “Were you following me?”
“Not on purpose,” Han said. “I heard a noise, so I came to see what it was.” That was better. “What are you doing here?” He waved his hand at the shelves of moldering books.
“Studying,” she mocked. “Reading. What else?”
Han wasn’t going back to his crib, not with her there. So he turned to the shelf behind him and pretended to scan the titles. He watched her from the corner of his eye in case she made a move on him.
Not that he’d be able to defend himself, depleted as he was. He hoped she couldn’t tell.
She stepped in close. “Tithe Records for the Cathedral Church?” Fiona was reading over his shoulder. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck.
“Do you mind?” Han said. “You’re bothering me.”
“Alister,” Fiona said softly. “Why is Dean Abelard protecting you?”
Han turned around and ended up nearly nose to nose with her, his back against the shelf. “What makes you think she’s protecting me?”
“Micah said she told him to leave you alone,” Fiona said.
“Maybe she’s just doing her job,” Han said. “You know. Keeping students from killing each other.”
“Micah and I don’t agree on everything,” Fiona said, fingering her amulet. “Our interests don’t always coincide.” She paused as if considering whether to go on. “Have you ever thought that it might make sense for us to work together?”
“Us?” Han repeated. “You mean, you and me?”
Fiona nodded.
“No,” Han said, too astonished to lie. “I’ve never thought that would make sense.”
“You’re different than when we first met,” Fiona said, bringing her pale brows together. “Your speech, your clothing—it’s like your rough edges have been polished away.” She reached toward Han and brushed her fingertips along his jawline. Her touch stung his cold skin. “Though we come from very different backgrounds, we may be more alike than you think. You don’t play by the rules. Neither do I.”
Han stood his ground, refusing to flinch away. “By that logic, the Raggers and Southies ought to get on because they don’t abide by the queen’s law,” he said.
“Hear me out,” Fiona persisted. “Some in the Wizard Council claim they want to make changes. Maybe they don’t go far enough.”
Han was lost, but he knew better than to let on. “What do you suggest?”
“My father wants to marry Micah into the Gray Wolf line,” Fiona said.
“I’ve heard that,” Han said, shrugging like he didn’t care either way. “So?”
“He wants to establish a new line of wizard kings married to Gray Wolf queens,” Fiona went on.
“The clans will never stand by and watch that happen,” Han said.
“Exactly,” Fiona said, nodding. “If we’re going to do this, why not go all the way? Why should we cling to the Gray Wolf line at all? What does it gain us? The clans will go to war regardless.”
“What’s your plan?” Han said, curious in spite of himself.
“Why not a wizard queen?” Fiona said.
Han finally got it. Lord Bayar’s current scheme left poor Fiona out in the cold. Being a rich blueblood wizard wasn’t enough. Apparently.
“I’m guessing you have somebody in mind.” Han raised his eyebrows.
Fiona gripped Han’s forearms, looking intently into his face. “Why shouldn’t it be me instead of Micah? I’ve always been the better student. I’ve always been more focused. Micah’s always distracted by his latest conquest. I think with my head, not with my—”
“Why are you telling me this?” Han interrupted. “I’d think you’d keep shut about it. We’re not exactly friends.”
“We could be,” Fiona whispered. “We could be very good friends.” She pulled him toward her and kissed him, her lips sizzling against his, her hands tangling themselves in his hair. “We could help each other, you and I,” she murmured, pressing into him.
Han gripped her shoulders and pushed back from her. “You still didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Why me? Why not lovelorn — Why not Wil?”
“I don’t know.” Fiona cleared her throat, her eyes still fixed south of his nose. “There’s just something about you. Something so — irresistibly dangerous —” She tried to move in again, but Han planted both hands on her shoulders, keeping her at arm’s length.
“Something about me?” Han said. “Something irresistibly dangerous?” Letting go of Fiona’s shoulder, he closed his hand on his amulet and dangled it in front of her eyes. “This, maybe?”
She stared at it for a long moment. “Well,” she admitted grudgingly, “that’s part of it. But not all of it.”
“Who do you think I am?” Han said, sliding the serpent pendant under his shirt. “Some country-bred nick-ninny on a city weekend? You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I have information about the amulet,” Fiona said in a rush.
“Information you need. The amulet is the key. It’s more important than you know—but it’s also dangerous. That’s why my father wants it back so badly. I can help you take full advantage of it.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Really?” Fiona said skeptically. “You’re saying that amulet has never given you a moment’s trouble? You’ve not had any — unusual experiences?” She tilted her head.
“My life is full of unusual experiences,” Han said. “But I’m getting along on my own.”
“The amulet’s not the only risk,” Fiona said. “If you ever come back to the Fells, my father will crush you like a cockroach.”
“And you think you can stop him?”
“You would be surprised what I can do,” Fiona whispered, looking into his eyes.
“And where am I at the end of it?” Han said. “Buried with the Gray Wolf queens?”
“Of course not,” Fiona said, drawing back a little, looking huffy. “There would be a role for you, of course. A position in my court. You would be well compensated.”
“As errand boy? Magical enforcer? A petticoat pensioner at best?” Han shook his head. “I got—I have my own plans. I won’t play servant or bravo to you.” He pushed past her, leaving her standing amid the ancient stacks.
Han left Bayar Library by his usual route, avoiding the proficient reshelving books on the second floor.
All the way back, he chewed over what had happened. Fiona’s offer was just part of it. Did she really know something useful about the amulet? Was it possible the Bayars had put a curse on it? Did she have anything to do with his ending up on the eighth floor? Or was he losing his mind?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DANGEROUS
DANCING
The spring term was well under way, and Hallie still hadn’t returned from the Fells. It’s a long way to Fellsmarch, Raisa told herself. Even longer in these unsettled times.
Maybe Hallie had decided not to come back to school. Maybe, after seeing her daughter, she couldn’t bring herself to leave again.
“Why isn’t there any place for children here?” she asked Amon one day as they worked out with their staffs.
“What?” He parried her quick jab to his middle and swung his staff at her head. She ducked, and it whistled past her ear. While he was off balance, she penetrated his defenses and gave him a good smack on the rump.
Raisa was glad they st
ill had this time together. It was a relatively safe way to work off the tension between them. She just had to be careful not to hit too hard.
“You mean classes?” he panted, spinning around and bringing up his staff to block her next blow. She slammed her staff across his and felt the vibration clear up her arms.
“Well, yes, and a place for students to live with their children.”
“Don’t you think that would be a distraction?” Amon asked. He swept his staff low, nearly knocking her off her feet.
“Don’t you think it’s even more distracting to be missing your child?”
“Cadets are supposed to bond with each other,” Amon said. “Would that happen if they were caring for a family?”
“I don’t think we can ignore the fact that some students have families,” Raisa said. “If Hallie’s daughter were here, she wouldn’t have traveled home on her own.” Mopping sweat from her face, she held up her hand to signal the end of the bout. “The Temple School could offer classes for them, like Southbridge does. But there’s no housing for them in the city.”
“Hmmm,” Amon said. “Well, if you want to pursue it, start with Master Askell. He’s on the governance council for the academy.”
The spring term was easier academically than the one before. Raisa didn’t have Proficient Tourant to deal with, for one thing. Tourant had left the academy entirely, and nobody seemed sorry to see him go.
Infantry drilling had been replaced with horsemanship, in which Raisa excelled. She enjoyed riding Switcher, who’d grown fat and lazy last term. She liked getting out into the countryside again, even if it was flat.
Askell was a rare visitor to her classes these days. And so she had to make an appointment to speak with him about her idea regarding family housing.
“Sit down, Newling Morley,” Askell said, when his orderly ushered her into his office. “Be at ease. Would you like tea?” He gestured at the teapot on its little burner.
“No, sir,” she said. “Thank you. It won’t take long.”
She felt different, more confident than she’d been the last time. Both times she’d come as a supplicant. But now she felt like she had some footing, like she didn’t need to apologize for her presence. She’d achieved high marks in all her classes, save Tourant’s. That class she’d failed.
As if he’d read her mind, Askell said, “If you are here about your marks in History of Warfare, that record has been amended.”
“Oh!” Raisa said, surprised. “I’m not here for that reason, but thank you, sir.”
“Why are you here, then?”
Raisa explained her idea and the reasons for it.
Askell frowned. “It has never been done before, and yet we’ve managed to scrape along for more than a thousand years.”
“Applications to Wien House are dramatically down,” Raisa said.
Askell raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”
“Arden has always sent more cadets to Oden’s Ford than the rest of the Seven Realms,” Raisa said. “But they’ve been at war for a decade, so the young people who would have come here are already fighting. To get enough quality students, you’ve been accepting older, less traditional ones. And many of those have families.”
Askell sat back. “I can’t imagine this affects many of our students,” he said.
“One in five,” Raisa said. “One in three proficients and masters students.”
“How do you know this?” Askell asked. “That sounds like more than a guess.”
“I surveyed all six classes of cadets,” Raisa said. “Of course, I couldn’t survey those who never came here because they couldn’t risk leaving their families behind.” She leaned forward. “The Wien House dormitories are half empty. There would be room for some families, at least. We could start with Wien House and expand to the other schools if it’s successful.”
“You have been busy, Morley,” Askell said. “Clearly your workload is too light this term.” Dipping his pen into a bottle of ink, he scratched a few notes. “I cannot promise anything,” he said. “The military is the most conservative of organizations, particularly my countrymen within it. But you make a solid case for investigating this.”
“That is all I can ask,” Raisa said, but couldn’t resist adding, “I would hope that this investigation does not take too long.”
“I have a question,” Askell said, looking at her over the rim of his teacup. “Proficient Tourant’s behavior was abysmal all term, and yet you never complained,” he said. “Why not?”
Raisa shrugged. “If I can’t manage the Tourants of the world, I’m unlikely to succeed as queen of the Fells. Some days it seems like I’m surrounded by Tourants.”
“I thought you might return to the Fells at solstice,” Askell said.
“I’m waiting for word from home,” Raisa said. “I’ll likely leave as soon as I receive assurances that it’s safe to do so.” If that ever happens, she thought.
“Is there any chance you’ll return next year?” Askell asked, tapping his pen on his blotter.
Raisa shook her head. “I can’t imagine that I would. I’ve learned so much, but I’ve been away too long as it is.”
“I see,” Askell said. He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to know that if you returned next year, I planned to offer you command over a triple of newlings. Your performance this year has been impressive.” A smile ghosted across his face. “And not just because my expectations were so low.”
“Thank you, sir,” Raisa said, a little flustered. “I am honored. And it would be an honor to serve, if I were returning.”
“I realize that the role of corporal is a step down from princess,” Askell said, “but I wanted you to know my mind.”
“Thank you,” Raisa said. “I want you to know that I will never forget my time here at Oden’s Ford. It’s been an incredible gift to step out of the role of princess and into the role of student.”
Askell stood, signaling that it was time for her to go. “If you are still here, I hope that I will see you at the Cadets’ Ball.”
“Oh. Yes. Well. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” Raisa had heard of little else for weeks—the Wien House end-of-term party. It was kind of a target to aim at, an excuse to leap over the work remaining to be done.
“It’s not that far off,” Askell said, smiling. “I hope that if you do leave before then, you will come and say good-bye.”
“Thank you, sir, I will.” She saluted Askell, her fist over her heart, and left.
The bloody Cadets’ Ball, Raisa thought as she descended the steps. I’m not going.
Amon had continued his proper courtship of Annamaya. Every weekend that he was off duty he put on his dress uniform and crossed the river to visit her at the Temple School. Raisa could picture them sitting all straight-backed in the garden. At least she didn’t have to see it for real. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid it at the dance.
Talia and Pearlie were going together. Since Hallie hadn’t returned, Raisa would be a loose thread dangling. A princess without a dance card at the ball. That would never happen at home.
She didn’t have friends at home, either—not real friends to pester her to death.
“I don’t know why you don’t ask Han,” Talia said, as if she and Han were old friends. These days, she and Pearlie often showed up at The Turtle and Fish on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Sometimes Mick and Garret came, too. When Han’s tutoring session was finished, he would buy a round, and Raisa would end up staying late.
“He’s so good-looking and charming, and the way he looks at you—it sends shivers right through me,” Talia sighed. “Girlies used to knife fight over Cuffs Alister back in Ragmarket, you know. He’s not my type, but if he was...”
“He’s not my type either,” Raisa said, then rushed to add, “I mean, I like him, and all that, but — I know it won’t work out in the long run.”
Talia raised her eyebrow in an “Oh, really?” kind of way. “I know you’re a blueblood, but i
t’s not like you have to marry him.”
Speaking of. It was nearly six. Time to meet the amazing Han Alister for tutoring.
“I have to go,” Raisa said.
“Say hello for me!” Talia winked at Raisa.
He was waiting for her in the upstairs room at The Turtle and Fish. He was always early, ever since that first class when he’d been late and she’d laid into him. (He was definitely teachable.) He’d taken to ordering dinner (he said as payment), so they’d gotten into the habit of eating together before or after their sessions. He claimed he needed to practice his table manners with actual food.
“What if I used the right fork, but used it to stuff sausage in my mouth, or guzzled down my ale like a soaker in his cups?” he said. “All your hard work would have gone to waste.”
Han worked hard himself. He did the assigned reading and participated without complaint in Raisa’s role-playing. His speech had improved dramatically over the past two months, though he still used thieves’ slang now and then because that didn’t result in fivepenny payments. His table manners were nearly flawless, when he paid attention.
There were times, though, that he seemed desperate for sleep, yawning after dinner and twice actually dozing off.
“Should you be spending time on this right now?” Raisa asked one evening when she could tell he was exhausted. “Like I said, you can learn manners on your own.”
“I apologize,” he said. “It’s not the company. If there’s anybody I want to be awake for, it’s you. I was up late last night is all.”
It seemed he was up late every night. Is he seeing someone? she wondered.
It’s not my business if he is.
It was clear he was used to having his way with girls, and in a dozen ways he let her know that he was interested in her. She’d feel the pressure of his eyes, and turn around to find him gazing at her as one might a complicated, layered painting. The intensity of his attention was seductive.
Sometimes he’d pull his chair around so they could share his book. He’d sit about an inch away, always maintaining that tiny distance, as if he knew exactly where she was at all times.
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