The Exiled Queen (43 page)

BETRAYAL

Sitting back on his heels on the cobblestones, Han stared down at Cat. A purple bruise bloomed over her right eye where it had struck the wall. Her brow bone puffed out, making her face lopsided. A little different angle, and she might have put her eye out.

He looked up at Dancer. “Did you know she was stalking me?” he demanded.

“Shhh.” Dancer put a finger to his lips, looking up and down the pathway. “I knew she was up to something, so I followed her,” Dancer said. “I wouldn’t have let her cut your throat or anything.”

“That’s reassuring.” Han stood and scooped up his ruined cloak. “When did you plan to step in?”

“Let’s get her inside before the provost guard shows,” Dancer said.

“Why should we? Let them take her to gaol,” Han said. “I’m done.” Han had been blindsided by someone he’d considered to be a friend. He’d never have expected her to try a stab and grab on him. After all that had happened, he was at his limit.

Dancer didn’t honor that with an answer. “Come on,” he said. “We can’t drag her over the roof and through the window. I’ll carry her; you go in front and distract Blevins if he’s awake.” Dancer stowed Cat’s blade away and slid his hands under her, lifting her. She groaned but did not open her eyes.

Han walked into the dormitory ahead of them, scouting the common room for Blevins. The dorm master was sound asleep in his chair next to the fire. Waiting up for them. He’d be peeved not to catch them sneaking in after curfew.

Han motioned Dancer forward, and they soft-footed past Blevins and climbed the stairs, keeping to the outsides of the treads so they didn’t squeak.

Fortunately, they reached the fourth floor without meeting anyone. Han pushed his door open, and Dancer followed him in, depositing Cat on Han’s bed.

“I’ll get some cold water for her head,” Dancer said. He picked up the basin and left, heading for the third-floor washroom.

He’s awfully considerate of someone who cut up my good cloak and threatened me with a knife a few minutes ago, Han thought.

Han lit two candles to drive off the shadows. The dawn was still hours away.

Cat groaned, pressing her hands to her forehead. Han patted her down thoroughly, removing three more knives. Dancer returned with the basin, wet a rag, and laid it over the lump on Cat’s head. She reached up and yanked it off, and he replaced it again. She batted his hand away and opened her eyes.

“Get away from me, you dung-eating copp —” She stopped abruptly, as memory seemed to flood back in. “Blood and bones,” she whispered. Focusing on Han’s face, she flinched and closed her eyes again.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” she whispered, licking her lips.

“I might still,” Han said. “But Dancer thought you’d have something to say first.”

“I got nothing to say,” Cat whispered. “Just cut my throat and be done with it.” She tilted her head back, exposing her throat, a wolf submitting to the alpha of the pack.

Dancer sat down on the bed next to her. “No. You saved our lives in Arden. You deserve a hearing. I want to know what’s wrong with you. These past few weeks you’ve seemed different. Kind of desperate.”

“What are you talking about?” Han said irritably. “You hardly know her, so I don’t know how you could—”

“You’re never around,” Dancer said. “You have no idea what’s going on with your friends.”

Han waved a hand at Cat. “This is a friend?” He rolled his eyes. “Friends don’t hush friends in back alleys.”

“Cuffs is right,” Cat said, opening her eyes and looking at Dancer. “You don’t know me very well. I’m a thief. I betray my friends. I deserve to die.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and trickled into her hair on either side. “I should’ve just left, but I needed money to get home,” she said. “There’s nothing for me here. I’m not cut out to be in school.”

“What did you want with the amulet?” Han asked, a terrible suspicion growing in his mind. “If you needed money, you should’ve taken my purse.”

“I wasn’t going to go poking in your breeches for it,” Cat said. “For all I knew you had a stash of weapons in there.”

“You were after the amulet all along,” Han said. “Weren’t you?”

After a long pause, she nodded. “I — thought I could sell it,” Cat said. “You acted like it was valuable. And you always kept it with you, so I had to take it off you.”

Han blinked as the puzzle piece fell into place. “You were the one who tossed my room,” he said. “You were looking for it.”

“I didn’t never toss your room,” Cat flared. When Han raised an eyebrow, she mumbled, “How’d you know? I put everything back where it was.”

“It was the night of the Dean’s Dinner, so you knew neither of us would be here,” Dancer said. He was looking at Cat, and she was looking at him, and Han suddenly felt like he was an outsider, just a bystander in the room.

“I — I came here because I thought I could help,” she said, keeping her eyes locked on Dancer’s face as if she were witch-fixed. “I felt bad. I thought I could — make up for what happened in Fellsmarch.” She swallowed hard. “I should’ve stayed away.”

“What do you mean, what happened in Fellsmarch?” Dancer asked, his voice low and soothing, like a witch-talker.

“To Cuffs. To his mam and sister. To — to the Raggers,” Cat whispered.

Dancer removed the rag, resoaked it, wrung it out, and replaced it. “Why did you feel that you had to make up for it?” he asked.

Cat jerked the rag off her forehead and flung it away. “Because it was my fault.”

Han stared at her. Cat had a lot to answer for, but he wasn’t going to let her take the blame for that. “No,” he said. “That one is mine. My fault.” He remembered how distraught Cat had been the night of the fire, how she and the other Raggers had kept him from going into the stable after Mam and Mari. She had saved his life that night, too.

“There’s no way you could’ve saved them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, softening a bit. “You can’t blame yourself.”

She just shook her head. “You don’t know nothing.” She sat up, then, swaying, looking like she might topple back over. Dancer put an arm around her to steady her, and for once she didn’t jerk away.

“Who did you think you could sell it to?” Han asked. “The amulet, I mean.”

Cat rolled her eyes as if Han were an idiot. “The Bayar jinxflinger came to see me a few weeks ago. He threatened me. He said he’d tell on me if I didn’t steal the jinxpiece back for him. He said it was his to start with, that you’d taken it from him.”

That would have been after Bayar and his cousins had been evicted from Hampton. After the dean had told Bayar to back off.

Something was missing, something Cat was talking around but not saying. “What was Bayar going to tell me?” Han asked. “What didn’t you want me to know?”

Cat took a deep breath, and the words came out in a rush, like she’d been waiting forever to confess. “It was me,” she said. “I was the one told the young Bayar where you lived, when they were hunting you in Ragmarket. They’d took Velvet; they said they’d kill him if I didn’t tell. So I did. I figured it was him or you, and I loved Velvet, and I didn’t love you. I figured they’d toss the place, find whatever it was you’d stole from them, and that would be that. I never thought — I never expected they’d —” Her voice broke, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You never thought they’d burn up Mam and Mari,” Han said.

He backed away from Cat until he came up against the wall. He flattened himself against it, wishing he could disappear, that he could just blink out like a cinder so he wouldn’t have to hear any more.

Tears pricked at his eyes. “You didn’t know who you were dealing with.”

“I found out,” she said, her voice bitter as chicory. “They killed Velvet anyway. Then they come and killed everyone else. It was a slaughter. They were looking for you, trying to make somebody tell where you were. I’d be dead myself if I was there.” She took a shuddering breath. “I wish I had been.”

Han should have known all along. He’d thought it was Taz Mackney, but no. It made sense that he’d been betrayed by someone close to him, someone who could direct the Queen’s Guard through the maze of streets in Ragmarket, who could point out the stable in a place with no numbers and no names written down.

“After, I wanted to kill them,” Cat said. “I wanted to kill everyone.” She smiled sourly. “I always thought I was good with a blade. But I’m smart enough to know that as a killer, I’m nothing next to them. It’d be like throwing myself into the fire. I still would’ve done it if I thought I could take a few of them with me.

“So I took Jemson’s offer to go to Oden’s Ford. I never wanted to see Ragmarket again. I got as far as Delphi, then I just got stuck. I was too scared to go on, and I couldn’t go back. When I ran into you, when I found out you was still alive, I got this idea that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being in the south if you was there. I knew you’d get on, wherever you went. You were the best streetlord I ever knew. But I knew if you ever found out I was the one that cackled on you, you’d cut my heart out.”

She looked at Han, rather hopefully. “So. Kill me. You got rights. That way, I wouldn’t have to keep thinking about things I should’ve done different.”

Han slid down the wall until his backside hit the floor. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He felt numb. He’d been nursing his guilt for so long, he wasn’t about to hand any piece of it to Cat.

“I’m not going to kill you, Cat,” he said. “I’m sorry about that, but I’m not. You just got in the way when the Bayars came after me, that’s all. You and everybody else. That’s what I’ll be carrying for the rest of my life.”

They all sat in silence for a while.

“What now?” Dancer said to no one in particular. He took Cat’s hand and cradled it in his. Again, she didn’t resist.

“I’ll go away, if that’s what you want,” Cat said. “You’d be a fool to trust me ever again. And you never been a fool.” She looked up at him. “But I want to stay and help you. I know who you’re up against, and I promise—I’ll do whatever you say.”

“No,” Dancer said. “This is our fight—we can’t avoid it. But you’re not in it.”

“I am too in it,” Cat snarled. “For Velvet and Jonas and Sweets and Sarie and — everybody else. Mari was just a baby. And they burned up —”

“Stop it,” Han said, putting up his hand. “I just — stop it.” He waited until he thought he could control his voice. “I’m going to be in a war pretty soon, likely against the Bayars and a lot of other charm-casters,” he said. “It’ll be something different than what you’re used to. It’s not just a street fight, though there might be some of that. It’ll be politics and spying and putting a word in where it’ll do the most good. And it’ll be all over the realm—in the mountains, in Ragmarket and Southbridge, in the castle close, too.”

“You’ll need help,” Cat said. “You can’t do it all on your own.”

“You should stay here,” Han said. “It’s amazing, what you’ve done in a short time. Jemson was right. You could become a ladies’ maid or governess. You could teach music. It’s your chance to get out of Ragmarket for good.”

“You think I’d rest easy between the sheets in some mansion house knowing you’re in a war?” Cat said. “I want to swear to you again. I want to help you. I couldn’t go up against the Bayars on my own, but maybe I could with you.”

Han studied Cat, debating. Hope crowded into her face.

“You’d be putting Cat at risk,” Dancer argued. “She’d be going up against wizards. She’d be defenseless.”

“I an’t defenseless!” Cat snapped, producing a blade from some unknown hiding place and waving it at Dancer. He jerked his head back to save his nose.

Han rubbed his chin. “I need people who’ll do what I say, whether it’s going to school, or doing slide-hand on the street, or keeping an eye on people that need watching. I won’t have time to argue with you. You can’t just pick and choose the jobs you like.”

Cat nodded, her eyes fixed on his face. “I promise I’ll do what you say.”

“You need to keep up on your schooling,” he said. “Music, art, language, all that. You need to be able to mix in with bluebloods. If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for you.”

“You sound like a blueblood already,” Cat muttered.

“There won’t be gang shares, not like before,” Han went on. “I have some money, but that might dry up, depending on which way I jump. And you can’t be doing side work if you work for me. You can leave any time, but if you decide to go with somebody else, you need to tell me and split clean.”

“I got it,” Cat said. “No side work.”

“Least you know what the risks are,” Han said, half to himself. “I don’t feel as bad asking you, because you’d be going into it with open eyes.”

“Hunts Alone,” Dancer said. “Don’t let her throw her life away.”

Cat gave Dancer a look to shut him up. Then she slid off the edge of the bed and onto her knees. “I, Cat Tyburn, swear to you, Cuffs Alister,” she said. “I pledge my loyalty, my blades and weapons to your use, and place myself under your protection. I’ll do what you say. Your enemies are my enemies. I won’t do no side work. I promise to bring all takings to you and to accept my gang share from your hands as you see fit.” And she smiled her radiant, dangerous smile.

SHIFTING

ALLIANCES

Abelard’s crew trickled into the dean’s meeting room, clustering on the other side of the table from Han, eying him with mistrust. Micah sighed and rolled his eyes, as if expecting little out of this session, but underneath the boredom, Han could smell a visceral fear. Nobody seemed eager to go anywhere with Han Alister at this particular time.

Except Abelard and Gryphon. And maybe Fiona. Her expression of cool appraisal told him that she hadn’t given up winning him to her cause.

The Demon King amulet hung around Han’s neck. Alongside it hung a Demonai talisman carved from rowan and oak. This bit of bagged flash was supposed to protect him from possession. He and Dancer hadn’t been able to test it, of course, because, despite Mordra’s seminar, neither of them knew how to go about possessing someone.

Han’s amulet was packed with power. Crow had mentioned stealing power from someone else, but Dancer had uncovered a charm that allowed him to donate power to Han by linking their amulets together.

“It’s all right,” Dancer had said, grinning. “I didn’t have any big magical plans anyway.”

As soon as Han had entered the room, Micah’s eyes fixed on the serpent amulet. He stared at it, then looked up and met Han’s eyes. Probably wondering if Cat had made a try for it yet. Micah had probably hoped Han would have to come before the dean without it.

“Now that we’re all here, we’ll begin,” Dean Abelard said. “When Alister joined our study group, I told you that he had been successful in traveling to Aediion. This afternoon he will share his expertise with us. Hopefully you have arrived with fully charged amulets.” She nodded to Han. “The floor is yours.”

“All right, then,” Han said. He wasn’t sure whether he should get up or stay in his seat. He elected to stand. “You probably know that it’s not easy getting to Aediion. Some wizards think it doesn’t even exist. But it does. The first time I went was in Master Gryphon’s class. But I’ve been there several times since.”

“And always came back, it seems,” Micah drawled, as if he’d rather he hadn’t.

“Well, that’s important, isn’t it,” Han said, tilting his head back and looking down his nose at Micah. “You wouldn’t want to get stranded there. That’d be bad.” He kept looking at Micah until Micah looked away.

“Some people think the key to getting to Aediion is in the amulet you use,” Han went on. “Others think that once you get there, it’s easier the next time. Kind of like you’re breaking a trail you can use over and over.” He looked around the table. “How many of you have tried to go to Aediion?”

Everybody raised a hand.

“How many of you have succeeded?”

“Be honest, now,” Abelard put in.

The hands went down.

“How do we know you’ve been there?” Mordra asked, fingering her amulet.

Han looked at Abelard, who said, “I am convinced of it, and that’s all you need to know.”

Mordra shrugged, and Han continued.

“Today I’ll help you get there, using my amulet and the trail I’ve made,” he said. “I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to go back on your own, but it may make it easier for you the next time.”

This was complete rubbish—a story that he and Crow had worked out together—but Han was a rum liar, and they all nodded, even Gryphon, though he looked a little puzzled.

“Now, we have to be touching,” Han said. “Let’s lie down in a circle.”

He’d asked Abelard to lay out seven straw mattresses in a circle by the window. They all laid down, with their heads nearly meeting in the middle. Han heard some muttering and snorting as they assumed their positions. He helped Gryphon to get down, then lay down on the remaining mattress.

Han knew they felt ridiculous, but he didn’t want vacated bodies toppling over and crashing to the floor.

“See?” he said. “Just like a séance at the Temple School.”

Nervous laughter rippled around the circle.

“All right, everyone touching?” Han felt the buzz of power from Gryphon on one side and Abelard on the other. He guessed they’d wanted to be next to him to make extra sure they wouldn’t be left behind.

“Now, here are some things to remember,” Han said, staring up at the ceiling. “You probably know all this already, but it bears repeating. You can change your appearance in Aediion—your clothing, your physical characteristics. So try that out. You can create illusions at will—it’s the dream world, remember. Magic works—so be careful with it. And don’t use up all your stored power experimenting. You’ll need it to get back.

“We’re all going to the same place so we can find each other. We will stay about ten minutes. You’ll need my help to return, so we will all meet and come back together. If anyone’s amulet is running low, tell me right away.” He paused. “Any questions?”

“Where are we going?” Gryphon asked.

“Bridge Street,” Han said. “Is there anyone who hasn’t been there?”

This was met by more nervous laughter.

“We’ll meet under the clock in front of The Crown and Castle,” Han said. “Don’t stray too far from there. Ten minutes goes by quick in Aediion. Ready? Hands off your amulets. Here’s the charm you’ll be using.”

Han told it to them and had them repeat it. It was the same charm Gryphon had taught them back in the fall. Han would be using something different—the potent charm that would actually carry them all across.

“All right, ready?” Han said. “Open your portals.”

Han gripped his amulet and spoke Crow’s charm. The break between worlds was longer and deeper this time—long enough to worry about being stuck between. When the darkness finally faded, he stood alone under the clock on Bridge Street. Gryphon immediately materialized in front of him, eyes closed, holding tight to his amulet.

“Gryphon!” Han said softly.

Gryphon opened his eyes. He was a Gryphon made whole, without leg braces and crutches. He looked down at himself, and a pleased smile broke across his face. He took a few tentative steps, then reshaped himself, growing taller, more muscular, better matching his handsome features.

Abelard appeared, then Hadron, deVilliers, and the Bayars last. When Micah and Fiona arrived, Gryphon’s clothing became just a little finer and better-fitting.

“All right,” Han said, “everyone’s here. Now try changing the scene a bit.” Han gestured, and large purple flowers burst from the pavement, waist high. “Go easy, though; we don’t want to end up in a tangle.”

The others conjured flowers and fireworks, fields and waterfalls, though Micah didn’t really join in the fun. He stood back, hand on his amulet, his eyes fixed on Han as if expecting him to make a move on him.

“You can also change your clothes if you want, or the clothes of those around you.”

A battle of dueling apparel erupted as they manipulated each other’s attire. Even Abelard joined in. Soon everyone was laughing.

“From what I know,” Han said, “what’s real in Aediion is wizards, amulets, and magic. Everything else is illusion. We all came from the same room,” he went on, “but we could be spread all over the Seven Realms and still come together in a common place, if you planned ahead of time. Otherwise, you’d never find each other.”

“Is bad weather coming in?” Mordra said, shivering and peering up at the sky. “It sure looks real.”

A cold wind ripped between the buildings, raising gooseflesh on Han’s exposed skin. Dark, mottled clouds rolled in, turning midday into a peculiar twilight. Han conjured a deerskin jacket lined with fleece. The others followed suit, donning warmer clothes in the face of the drop in temperature.

“Did you do that?” Gryphon asked Han, eying the sky. “Change the weather, I mean?”

Han shook his head, at a loss to explain it. Could one of the others have done it? Micah or Fiona? They still clutched their amulets, but they both gazed skyward apprehensively, so it seemed unlikely. Han had never visited Aediion in a crowd before. It was hard to say who was really in control.

Lightning brindled the sky, turning it garish shades of green and purple. A clamor of thunder made everyone cover their ears.

“That’s enough, Alister,” Mordra said, pulling her head in like a turtle. “You’ve made your point.”

Han gripped his amulet and tried to conjure better weather, but with no success. Illusion or not, the oncoming storm was hard to ignore.

“Who is that?” Dean Abelard asked, shading her eyes and squinting past Han.

Han turned, then stood gaping in surprise.

It was Crow, dressed more finely than Han had ever seen him, in brilliant cloth of gold that set off his midnight hair, a jewel-encrusted sword in his hand. By now the sky was as black as darkman’s hour, but it didn’t matter. Crow lit up the whole street.

He strode purposefully toward them, his sword extended, a bone-chilling smile on his face, flame rippling around him like a halo around a saint.

Han stepped in between Crow and Abelard’s crew. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. He hadn’t said anything to Crow about the time of their visit or the place of their meeting. How had he found them?

“Alister!” Abelard said. “Explain this at once! Is this person your creation or someone you know?”

Crow twitched in irritation. Turning, he flicked his hand, and a mammoth wall of flame erupted from the street, separating Han and the Bayars from the others. With a gesture he set it rolling, driving the others down the street. Beyond the blaze, Han could hear screaming and shouting.

Han swung around to face Crow again. “What are you doing?”

“My business is with you and the Bayars,” Crow said. “We don’t need interference from them.” He stood before the Bayar twins, growing in size and brilliance until he dwarfed the pair. “Ah,” he said, gloating, “finally. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

“What are you talking about?” Micah demanded, shading his eyes with his forearm. “I don’t know you.”

“But I know you,” Crow said. “I know who and what you are.” Lazily, he flicked flame from the tip of his sword. It rocketed toward Micah, and Micah dodged aside.

Fiona’s eyes shifted from Han to Crow and back again. “Why are you doing this?” she said.

Han shook his head. “Go on,” he said to Crow. “Get out of here. You’re not invited.”

“I’m making good on a promise,” Crow said. “I promised to destroy Aerie House. I’m going to start with these two.”

“Alister, if this is your idea of a joke, I am not amused,” Micah said. “I should have known better than to go along with this scheme.”

“Arrogant. True to your breed,” Crow said. He sent another gout of flame jetting toward Micah and Fiona. They leaped to either side, rolling as they hit the ground. Fiona answered with a flaming attack of her own, but Crow let it sizzle through him with no apparent ill effects.

Micah put up a shimmering wall, like solidified light, between him and Fiona and Crow and Han. Crow sent flame roaring right through it, and once again, Micah and Fiona dodged out of the way. Crow seemed to be toying with them, every attack a near miss.

Han stepped between Crow and the Bayars, skin prickling with anticipation of the flame, knowing he’d likely get fried from front and back. He felt betrayed—played like a loaded mark.

“Stop this, Alister,” Fiona said, “or I will stop you.” She took hold of her amulet and extended her hand toward Han.

“Crow!” Han said. “Forget it. I’m not going to let you kill them.”

“Why not?” Crow demanded. He shifted from side to side, trying to get a clear shot. “They tried to kill you several times. And it’s not like they’d shed a tear over you.”

“I have a plan,” Han said. “And this isn’t it.”

“Perhaps you want the pleasure of killing them yourself?” Crow got off a little bow. “Fair enough. Be my guest.” He disappeared.

Han felt a kind of pressure, then a rough mental push, as if his mind were being straight-armed. Then another and another, as if someone were beating on his skull. It was Crow trying to get in, and getting bounced. Han fingered the rowan talisman and breathed a silent thank-you to Dancer.

“Give it up,” Han said, just managing to sidestep the balls of flame Fiona lobbed at him. “It’s not going to work this time.”

Crow slammed into his mind again. And again and again.

“Come on, I can’t fight three on one like this,” Han said. “Do you want to get me killed?” He screamed as one of Micah’s fiery blasts grazed him, setting his clothes aflame. Frantically, Han beat at his clothing, then with a gesture, turned the street under Micah and Fiona into a mudpot. They sank to their waists.

“Kill them, Alister,” Crow whispered in his ear. “Or they’ll kill you.”

“Kill them yourself, you sponging goat-swiving huff,” Han said, putting up a shield to hold off a series of small tornados embedded with shards of glass. “I’m not going to fight your battles for you.”

Why didn’t Crow kill them himself? He knew more magic than the three of them combined. Surely he could come up with a death charm the Bayars couldn’t counter. His flaming attacks seemed to go right through Micah’s defenses, but every blow had missed or been deflected or somehow not connected. Han, Micah, and Fiona were doing more damage to each other than Crow had done to anyone.

A suspicion kindled in Han’s mind.

Crow changed strategy. As Micah and Fiona struggled their way out of the ooze, Micah staggered backward as if struck, his eyes widening in surprise. He stood stock-still for a long moment. Then, gripping his amulet, he turned and extended his hand toward Fiona.

“Micah?” Fiona blinked at him. “What are you — ?”

“Fiona! Look out!” Han shouted, pushing Fiona to the ground as Micah launched his charm and flame roared over their heads.

“Micah!” Fiona screamed, rolling to her feet. “What are you doing?”

Micah’s next shot blistered Fiona’s arm before she could leap aside.

While Micah focused on burning his sister to a cinder, Han tackled him around the waist, sending them both flying face-first into the mud. “Run, Fiona!” Han shouted, spitting out mud. “Get out of here or he’ll kill you.”

“I’m not leaving my brother!” she screamed at him. “You’ll kill him!”

“This an’t your brother!” Han shouted back. “Can’t you tell? He’s possessed.” Han ripped Micah’s hands away from his amulet for the third time.