The Exiled Queen (36 page)

And how do you know that? Raisa wanted to ask.

“Maybe not Bridge Street,” Raisa said. “The Bayars likely eat over there every night.”

Han laughed. “Not at the Turtle. It’s all Wien House. I’m risking my skin going in there.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “You should know that. Don’t you ever go out?”

“No,” Raisa admitted. “I don’t.”

“How about Tuesdays and Thursdays?” Han said.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays, for now,” Raisa agreed, wondering how she would fit that into her already taxing schedule. “In the meantime, there’s a book I want you to find in the library. It’s called Fellsian Heraldry and Tradition by Hauldron Faulk. Read as much of it as you can before Tuesday. And don’t make that face. I had to read the whole thing and recite from it when I was a lot younger than you.”

“Sounds riveting,” Han said, scribbling the name down on a scrap of paper, just the same.

A boom rattled the windows. Light poured through the glass, turning the gloomy room bright as midday.

“The fireworks,” Raisa said. “We’d better go down.” She gestured at the window, too high to reach. “Do we go back the same way?”

“Let’s go back up,” he said. “I got—I have an idea for where we can watch the show.” Han snatched up Raisa’s cloak and held it while she slid into it, an awkward attempt at gallantry. Standing behind her, he gripped her around the waist and lifted her high so she could reach the window. Pulling herself up, she slithered through. He leaped, gripped the stone sill, and swung easily through the opening.

“This way,” he said. He led her around the base of the bell tower to the far side, where the roof slanted down to a joining with one of the wings. He spread his cloak over the rough tiles. Bracing his feet against the flashing, Han leaned back onto the slanted roof so he was lying at a slight angle, looking up at the sky. He patted the spot next to him. “Here.”

Raisa lay down beside him.

Boom! The shell exploded nearly over their heads, showering streamers of colored sparks over the greens.

“It’s spectacular,” Raisa said, turning her head to grin at Han.

“I thought this would work,” Han said, looking pleased with himself.

The missiles rippled into the air, glittering red, purple, green, silver, and gold. Great chariots charged across the sky, pulling the sun behind them. Dragons roared overhead, breathing flame, drawing lusty cheers from the crowds down below. Fireworks were mostly clan made, and some said there was magic built in.

“Oooh,” the crowd said in unison. “Aaah.”

Raisa floated on a sea of homesickness. Queen Marianna presided over solstice fireworks in Fellsmarch, the shells exploding over Hanalea and Lissa and all the other mountains. They’d go to temple by candlelight, and thank the Lady for the sun’s return.

May the sun come again, Mother, she thought, and meant it.

“What did you like best about solstice at home?” she asked, looking over at Han.

“The food,” he said, without hesitation.

“What kind of food?” Raisa asked, recalling the groaning tables in the palace.

“Enough to fill you up,” he said simply. Pillowing his head on one arm, he reached down and took her hand.

You’re a bold one, she thought, but didn’t pull away.

“Before the war got bad,” he continued, “there was always plenty of food around at solstice. The temples had extra, and some of the rich houses gave out leftovers from their feast days. Since the war, there hasn’t been plenty, but still more than usual, anyway.

“The markets had toys and candy, fried honey cakes and spun-glass stars you never saw any other time of year. My sister, Mari, loved those honey cakes and sugar suns. I could’ve snabbled a whole bakery cart, and she’d still want more. She’d get powdered sugar all over her face.”

He sighed and fell silent, lost in his own thoughts.

“I miss the snow,” Raisa said, wiping cold mist off her face with the sleeve of her cloak. “It made the city look like a fairyland.” Her family would ride through the streets in a horse-drawn sleigh, wrapped snug in furs, bells jingling.

“And the river didn’t stink as bad, once it was frozen over,” Han said.

She laughed. “You’re right.” Even in their different lives, they’d shared the stinking river.

“We’d sneak out at night and slide down Quarry Street Hill on dustbin lids until the bluejackets chased us off,” he went on. “Sometimes bluebloods came down the way in big sleighs. We’d catch a ride, standing on the runners in back until the footmen clubbed us off.”

Raisa’s breath caught. “They clubbed you?”

“Well.” He looked sideways at her. “If you were any good, they’d miss.”

A succession of quick explosions drew their attention skyward. It was the climax of the show, a symphony of sound and light. Then it was over, leaving brilliant images on the insides of Raisa’s eyelids and a ringing in her ears.

She could feel Han shifting position on the roof beside her, moving closer. She just lay there, unwilling to move. Wishing she could just stay up there, avoiding the turmoil of her life below.

Finally she opened her eyes to find him propped up on his elbow again, looking down at her, indecision in his eyes. Looking at her lips, to be specific.

He wants to kiss me, she realized. But he’s thinking about what happened earlier with Tourant, and he doesn’t want to press it.

“Thank you,” she said, pushing upright, and the moment passed. “My solstice eve turned out better than I hoped. But I’d better get back.”

He stood and helped her up, steadying her on the slippery tiles. “I’ll walk you back and make sure you get in all right.”

Before tonight she would have refused the offer. Despite Micah’s presence, Oden’s Ford had seemed safe, sequestered from the real world. She’d been wrong.

They walked back across the still-crowded bridge, lost in their own thoughts. All the way back, she second-guessed her decision to tutor Han Alister. Was it frustration over Amon that had made her say yes? A desire to do something she knew he wouldn’t approve of? First the letter to Queen Marianna. Now this.

Wouldn’t it be better to keep her distance from anyone attached to the Fells? Wouldn’t it be better to keep her distance from someone who made her heart race and her tongue tangle up? From someone who made her want to forget the rules?

Was there anyone in all of the Seven Realms who had more counts against him? Anyone who would be less acceptable to every faction in the Fells than Han Alister?

Well. It wasn’t like she meant to marry him.

At the edge of the Wien House quad, she paused. “I’m all right now,” she said, pointing. “My dormitory is right over there.”

“Worried Corporal Byrne will see us?” Han said, tilting his head toward Grindell.

Which was exactly what she was worried about.

“Why would you think I’d be worried about that?” she snapped.

“Just a guess.”

“You seem to think that there’s some kind of—of thing between us,” she said. “I don’t know what Cat told you, but whatever it is, it’s not true.”

“Well,” he said, rubbing his chin, “there’s definitely a thing. I’m just not sure what kind of thing it is.”

She huffed out a breath to show him what she thought of that. “Thank you, Newling Alister, for the tea and the fireworks,” she said, inclining her head. “I had a wonderful time. Now, if you will excuse me.” She strode across the quad toward Grindell, head held high. When she was nearly there, he called after her in a carrying voice, “See you tomorrow night, Newling Morley!”

She swung around. “What?”

“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” he said, bowing at the waist. Then he turned and disappeared into the night.

Raisa stood looking after him, a dozen sarcastic responses crowding forward, then dying on her lips.

NEWS FROM

HOME

When Raisa splashed up the steps to Grindell Hall and opened the heavy front door, a single light burned in the common room, leaving the corners in shadow. Amon Byrne sat bolt upright at the library table, an unopened book in front of him. When he saw it was Raisa, he sagged a little, looking relieved.

“Finally,” he said. “Where have you been? I sent Mick and Talia out looking for you. I was afraid something had happened.”

“I was watching the fireworks,” she said. “I came straight back.”

“Fireworks? I thought you were staying in.” Amon rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“I changed my mind,” Raisa said. She shed her cloak and hung it by the fire.

Amon looked up at the clock on the mantel. “The fireworks ended an hour ago,” he said. “It took you this long to get back?”

“Why are you home already?” Raisa said, annoyed. For the shortest day of the year, this had been one of the longest nights of her life, and it wasn’t over yet. “Did you and Annamaya have a fight or what?”

“Rai,” Amon said. “Don’t.”

“Well, you’re interrogating me.” Guilt always made her short-tempered. Images of Amon and Han reverberated in her aching head.

He sighed. “We had dinner, but I decided not to stay for the fireworks. We were both tired.” And he did look tired. And sad. Raisa felt immediate remorse.

“There’s no curfew tonight, you know,” she said more gently. “There were still lots of people on Bridge Street when I walked back.”

“Bridge Street?” Amon’s eyes narrowed. “Is that where you were?”

She was too tired to lie, or even give the long version. “I decided to go look for Hallie and Talia. Henri Tourant attacked me in an alley on the way. He thought I needed to be taught a lesson.”

“What?” Amon erupted from his chair and took hold of her elbows, looking into her face. He had gone white to the lips, so his gray eyes looked nearly black. “I knew something had happened. That’s why I left after dinner, to look for you. But then it seemed — Are you all right? What did he... Are you...?”

“I’m fine,” Raisa said quickly, to put a stop to the tumble of words. “Just a few bruises and a bump on the head is all. Thanks to you, for teaching me street fighting. I guess he never expected it from me.”

Amon held her out at arm’s length, looking her up and down for damage. “Did you call the provosts? Is he in gaol? Why didn’t you send for me, Rai?” His voice nearly broke on the last sentence. “I know it’s been awkward lately, but you have to know I —”

Raisa shook her head. “I didn’t want to draw the attention,” she said. “Besides, I think he’s learned his lesson.”

Amon still looked stricken, as if all his worst fears had come to pass. “That’s it. You can’t walk around unescorted, not anymore.”

“Listen to me,” Raisa said, thrusting her chin forward. “This could have happened to any female who damaged Henri Tourant’s pride. It’s not about who I am. An escort is not the answer. How would we explain that to the Gray Wolves, let alone all the other students?”

They glared at each other for a long moment.

“I’ll talk to Master Askell,” Amon said finally. “He’ll deal with Tourant. Askell won’t put up with this.” Gently, he ran his fingertips over the back of her head, locating the swelling where she’d hit the brick wall. “How do you feel?”

“All right. Good thing I have a hard head.”

“So after all this happened, you just went on to the fireworks?” Amon raised an eyebrow.

“Then Cuffs Alister showed up.”

Amon pressed his fingers into his temples again. “I’m dreaming, right? I fell asleep and this is a nightmare.” He went back to the table and sat.

“Alister faked his own murder to get the Queen’s Guard off his trail,” Raisa said, dropping into the chair opposite Amon’s. “Remember when I thought I saw him over by the stables? That was him.” It gave her some satisfaction to say this, after Amon had persuaded her she’d been mistaken. “He’s a student at Mystwerk House.”

Amon planted both hands on the table. “Mystwerk? But — what’s he—”

“Cuffs Alister is a wizard,” Raisa said. “And he’s not Cuffs anymore. He sold his silver bracelets to pay for school, so now he goes by Han.”

Amon sat thinking, his brow furrowed. “That can’t be right. People don’t just turn into wizards. He must have been one all along.” He looked up at her. “Why would a wizard live in Ragmarket?”

Raisa shrugged. “I never saw any sign of wizardry before. And I never felt power leaking through his hands until tonight.”

At this, Amon’s head came up sharply. “He was — touching you?”

If you expect an explanation of that, you’re going to be disappointed, Raisa thought. “We watched the fireworks together, and then he walked me back.”

“Your Highness, forgive me, but are you out of your mind?” Amon’s weariness fell away, replaced by agitation. He rose and paced back and forth. “That is the most boneheaded idea you’ve—”

“What did you expect me to do? Club him on the head and throw him in the river? He knows me as Rebecca Morley, the name I’m using here. What do you think would arouse the most suspicion? Running away or continuing to be who I’m already pretending to be?”

“You didn’t have to go watch fireworks with him. Or—or let him fondle you.”

“Fondle?” Raisa raised her eyebrows. “When did I mention fondling?”

Amon stopped pacing and swung around. “Are you doing this to get back at me because of Annamaya? Because, if so, you’re—”

“You think this is all about you?” Raisa shook her head. “On the contrary, I hope you and Annamaya will be very — happy!” It would have been much more convincing had she been able to keep her voice from trembling.

Someone cleared her throat on the stairs, making them both jump. Raisa looked up. Hallie was standing at the top of the stairs in her nightclothes. “Sorry to intrude,” she said, “but you two are terrible loud, and I’m trying to sleep because I have to leave in a couple of hours.”

“Sorry,” Raisa said, her face burning. “I’ll be up to bed in a minute.”

They both stood and watched until Hallie had disappeared again.

“You know Alister’s up to something,” Amon muttered, poking viciously at the fire. “He must be. Maybe he followed us here.”

“Why would he follow us here and then hideout for four months?” Raisa asked irritably. “Anyway, why would he follow us here at all?”

He followed you tonight, an annoying voice said inside her head. He came looking for you.

“I don’t know,” Amon said. “All I’m saying is that things are getting more and more tangled, and somebody’s going to pull a thread, and the whole thing will unravel.” He sat down on the edge of the hearth and put his face in his hands.

All the anger whooshed out of Raisa as if somebody had pricked the bubble of her indignation, leaving only pain behind.

Raisa sat down next to him, put her hand on his knee, rested her head on his shoulder. “Amon, I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I’m trying to be gracious about all of this, I really am. I’m just not very good at it. It would be easier if we didn’t have to be together all the time. And if we didn’t have all this trouble hanging over our heads.”

She shivered. The fire had died down and the room had gone chilly. She just wanted to crawl into a warm bed and sleep.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” Amon said abruptly, as if his mind had been chasing down its own path. “But — I wanted to tell you—there’s news from the Fells.”

“Oh!” Raisa said, jolted awake. That explained Amon’s distraction. It was the first news they’d had since their arrival four months ago.

“I got a letter from my da,” Amon said. “It’s two months old, sent by ship from Chalk Cliffs, which I guess he thought was safer than sending it overland.” He smiled faintly at her eager expression. Fishing under his uniform tunic, he withdrew a creased letter, stamped with a plain wax stamp, not the sword-and-wolf insignia of the Captain of the Queen’s Guard. The seal had been broken.

“He was afraid it might fall into the wrong hands,” Amon said.

Like his liege queen’s hands, Raisa thought guiltily.

Amon extended the letter toward her. “Read it, and you’ll see why I was worried. Then we’d both better get to bed.”

Raisa took the letter from Amon’s hand. She unfolded it, recognizing Captain Edon Byrne’s small, precise script.

Son,

May this find you and your fellow cadets well and safe. I hope you’ve limited your time on Bridge Street and have applied yourself to your studies so as to reflect well on our family name.

I received your message about the Waterwalkers. I am doing everything in my power to resolve that situation. Lieutenant Gillen has been recalled to Fellsmarch. Corporal Sloat was killed in a skirmish near the West Wall. I have handpicked Gillen’s replacement. The Briar Rose Ministry has allocated funds to buy foodstuffs for the Fens as well as Ragmarket and Southbridge. So relations with the Fens have improved, though, as you can imagine, they are still strained.

It has been a difficult season here in the capital. Her Majesty is under extreme pressure from the Wizard Council and others among the nobility, given the continuing absence of the Princess Raisa and speculation as to her whereabouts.

Relations between HM and the High Wizard have suffered. The High Wizard suggests that by departing the Fells against the queen’s express wishes, the princess heir has forfeited her claim to the Gray Wolf throne. He also speculates that Princess Raisa may be dead or under control of a foreign power. Lord Bayar argues that confusion regarding the succession puts the Fells at risk. He favors naming the Princess Mellony as princess heir until and unless the Princess Raisa returns to the Fells to claim her birthright.

Raisa looked up at Amon, aghast. “Mellony as princess heir? Why would they...?”

Amon tapped the letter with his forefinger, shifting so his hip pressed up against hers. “Keep reading,” he said.

It may be that this is merely a threat intended to reach the true heir’s ears and bring her back to court. Certainly, the High Wizard and other members of the Wizard Council aligned with him have made no secret of these opinions. The clans have been equally vocal in opposition to any change in the succession. Averill Demonai, the royal consort and father of both princesses, has made their position clear. The nobility are split on the issue of the succession. The tension at court is palpable.

This public debate has resulted in an unexpected effect. When word spread that Princess Raisa might be set aside as heir, riots erupted throughout Ragmarket and Southbridge. Because of the Briar Rose Ministry, the princess enjoys great support among the common people in the capital, who see her as their champion. The High Wizard, these days, is the object of widespread suspicion and disdain. He cannot go abroad in the streets without an armed escort.

Ha! Raisa thought. Serves him right. Still, she had no illusions that slumdwellers could prevail against Gavan Bayar.

Funds have continued to flow to the Briar Rose Ministry despite the princess’s absence.

Raisa looked up again. “Who is sending money to Southbridge Temple, do you think?” Raisa asked.

Amon shrugged. “I don’t know. Could be ordinary citizens, some among the nobility, and maybe your father.”

That made sense. Averill was one of the few people besides Speaker Jemson who knew how her ministry had been funded in the past.

She turned back to the letter.

The clans have threatened to cut off trade to the other six realms if the princess is set aside. They may not be able to control trade by sea, but certainly the loss of trade routes to Arden, Tamron, and the other realms
would significantly reduce the flow of taxes that support the royal treasury. They have also restricted the flow of amulets and other magical devices to wizards in the queendom. The Wizard Council complains bitterly about this, suggesting that these actions by the clans threaten the security of the realm. Relations between the Wizard Council and the clans are at a low ebb.

Thus far, HM the Queen has resisted making any changes in the succession. She is spending more time with the speakers in the temple, and this seems to be a source of strength for her. So you could say that matters are at an impasse and therefore as stable as they can be. However, it seems clear that there are per
sons in the queendom whose agendas might be advanced by the Princess Raisa’s death or permanent disappearance. It seemed they view Princess Mellony as a more tractable heir.

Raisa looked up at Amon. He poked at the fire, a muscle working in his jaw. That explained the search party, his relief at her return, and his suspicions about Han Alister.

She read on.

I apologize for sharing such unsettling news in a letter. I know you will use your good judgment about how much of this to share with your fellow cadets. I would caution all of you against acting on impulse. If after reading this you are moved to return immediately to the Fells, I must strongly advise against it. Stay where you are, study hard, keep a watchful eye, and prepare yourself for the challenging tasks that lie ahead of you. I will send word if you are needed here at home.

And let us pray that the princess heir, wherever she is, remains under the Maker’s care until she can safely rejoin the queen her mother.

Best, Your Father

It was unsigned beyond that.

Raisa stared down at the letter. Her eyes filled with tears, blurring the letters on the page. All of this had flowed from her decision to flee the Fells. It seemed rash and cowardly in retrospect. Now Queen Marianna was on her own, except for Captain Byrne and the help Averill could provide. Help Marianna might not be willing to accept.

Raisa had been bemoaning her love life, learning history and playing at war, relishing the independence of being anonymous Rebecca Morley. Meanwhile, her mother and her father and Edon Byrne had been struggling to hold the queendom together.

And now she might be at risk of losing her throne.

“This is all my fault,” she said, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Raisa. Come on. It’s not,” Amon said, patting her back awkwardly.