The Exiled Queen (50 page)

“Tamron is not at war, Your Highness,” Raisa said, looking him in the eye with a confidence she did not feel. “I would not expect to be waylaid by brigands along the way.” She nodded toward Wil’s prone body. “You’ve already murdered one member of my guard. Now that you know who I am, I expect you will allow us to continue on our journey unmolested.”

Montaigne smiled, his face lighting with triumph. “Ah, no, Your Highness,” he said. “That’s much too risky, as you’ve seen.” He jerked her toward him, cupping her chin in his hand. “I think it’s time we continued our conversation about an alliance between Arden and the Fells—an alliance cemented by our marriage.” He smiled. “I’ll have Tamron, Arden, and the Fells. All the riches of the mountain mines and access to an unlimited supply of jinxflingers and magical objects. Eventually we’ll rule the Seven Realms.”

“That will never happen,” Raisa said, lifting her chin.

“Watch me.” Montaigne handed Raisa off to Karn. “Take these wizardlings and the princess back across the river, and keep a close watch on them. Bring their horses. We’ll talk more tonight.” The prince of Arden straightened his silver gauntlets. “Ah, Karn, this changes everything.”

Karn gripped Raisa’s arm and dragged her toward the river’s edge. The other Ardenine soldiers herded Micah and the others after her.

Snick. A soldier fell just behind her, both hands clutching at an arrow sticking out of the middle of his chest.

Snick. Snick. Snick. The sound of crossbows. More soldiers fell.

“Your Highness! Take cover!” Karn let go his hold on Raisa and thrust his bulk in front of Montaigne, who pawed at his sword.

The Ardenine soldiers scrambled for cover as a troop of horse soldiers exploded from the forest, threatening to overrun them. Riderless horses ran in all directions. Raisa sprinted for the trees, toward the road and away from the river. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Micah grab Fiona’s hand and drag her behind a fallen tree.

The cavalry wore a signia of a purple-and-gray heron, wings spread, landing on water. The emblem of the king of Tamron.

“To me!” Montaigne shouted. More Ardenine soldiers appeared at the run, coming from the direction of the river. A pitched battle erupted—the Red Hawk of Arden against the Heron of Tamron.

Raisa raced blindly through the forest, leaping over fallen trees and other obstacles, meaning to gain as much distance from the fight as she could. Montaigne was preparing to invade Tamron, that much was clear. If Arden’s thousands of soldiers crossed the river, there could be no doubt as to the outcome of this skirmish. Weaponless as she was, she had few illusions about the contribution she could make.

Looking back over her shoulder for signs of pursuit, she nearly ran headlong into the side of a horse.

“Hanalea in chains!” she said, skidding to a halt.

It was Fiona’s horse, Ghost, a tall, spirited, gray stallion with four white stockings. Raisa leaped forward and caught hold of his reins. The horse laid back his ears and shied away from her hand, but Raisa still managed to swarm up and into the saddle. The stirrups were set far too long, but Raisa clung to his back like a thistle and drove her heels into his sides. Ghost extended his long neck, accelerating into a gallop, twisting and turning through the trees.

He probably doesn’t even know I’m up here, after Fiona, Raisa thought.

Pressing herself flat against the stallion’s neck to avoid being unhorsed by low branches, she gave him his head and let him run.

She needed to put as much distance as possible between herself and those who might soon be chasing after her. That meant riding straight west as far as the road. The traffic on the road would hide evidence of her passing, and she’d make good time, whichever direction she chose.

Which way?

She had Fiona’s saddlebags, but no idea what was in them. She had a little money in the purse still tucked inside her coat.

If Micah and Fiona got free of the battle, they would guess she’d return south, to Oden’s Ford, and rejoin Amon and the others. They would not expect her to travel north on her own, especially after what had just happened.

Montaigne, on the other hand, might expect her to continue north, making for home, or west to Tamron Seat, for sanctuary. Hopefully the Tamron army would keep them occupied for a time. Surely Montaigne wouldn’t chase after her, with an invasion under way. No doubt he’d continue on to the capital.

So north it was. If she could make it as far as Fetters Ford, perhaps she could get word to Captain Byrne to send an escort. They’d either go north through Demonai Vale or east via Marisa Pines, depending on the news at that time.

Ghost needed no encouragement to leave the clamor of battle behind. Raisa gave him direction with her knees and hands while her mind picked over events of the past and prospects for the future.

She longed for the simple safety of childhood, the ability to give over responsibility to the Captain Byrnes of the world, sheltering under their protection.

But adulthood slipped up on you, she thought. It was forced on you whether you liked it or not. She had changed. She was not the same person who had run away with Amon Byrne ten short months ago.

She was more able, but less confident. She was better equipped to judge people, and less convinced of her ability to do so. When she’d left the Fells, she thought of people as being sorted into lots—good and bad, brave and cowardly. Now she realized that there were bits of both in most people—and which elements prevailed often depended on circumstance.

Micah Bayar, for all his faults, was a mixture of good and bad. She might be dead at an assassin’s hand, if not for him. He’d tried to free her when they were captured by Gerard Montaigne. But he presented different faces to different people, and his efforts to keep her alive were likely selfish at their root.

Raised on romance, Raisa would have said that it was impossible to love two men at once. That there was one true love for every person, if you could only find it.

But it wasn’t true. She still loved Amon Byrne. Her feelings about him were too raw for close examination. And she loved Han Alister, if she understood love at all.

Would she ever see him again, and if so, could they build from a relationship based on a lie?

And what did she expect to build on that shaky foundation? By the way, Alister, I’ve been lying to you for more than a year; I’m actually a member of the royal family you despise. There’s no future for us, but I’d still like to be friends.

Would Raisa herself be satisfied with friendship, when the memory of Han’s kisses and caresses haunted her?

Would Amon and Han be able to set aside their antipathy and put the pieces of her disappearance together?

Her mother was a weak queen—but she’d been mired down by circumstance. Maybe when Raisa returned, there would be a way to connect with her, to join with her, to help her, and become a better queen herself someday.

Ahead she saw the break in the trees that meant they were coming up on the road. Reining Ghost in with some difficulty, Raisa slowed their pace to a walk. Pausing in the last fringe of trees, she looked up and down the road and saw no one.

“Let’s go,” she said, applying her heels. “We need to go a lot farther before we rest.” They turned north, setting a more sustainable pace.

After nearly a year, she was going home. The decision had been forced on her. But more and more, she believed it was the right one.

A PARTING

OF THE WAYS

Han had meant to spend his last days at Oden’s Ford preparing for his mission in the north. Instead he spent it desperately searching for clues about Rebecca’s disappearance.

The dead at the Wien Hall library had been strangers to Oden’s Ford. None were wizards. They’d been seen around the academy for several days, asking questions. Either they carried nothing in their pockets, or whoever had killed them had stripped them of identification.

Han slipped into Micah’s dormitory, familiar from his many visits, and tossed their rooms. They had departed in a hurry—leaving many of their belongings behind.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. Had they left because they’d murdered her? Or had they taken her with them? No matter how Han put it together, it didn’t make sense. Three of the dead had been killed with wizardry. Had Rebecca been witness to the killings, and been killed or carried off for that reason?

Han walked over to Grindell Hall the morning before he planned to leave. The dormitory was a hive of activity—cadets running up and down stairs, packing their belongings.

Byrne met with him in the common room. The bluejacket had lost some of his military edge—his eyes were ringed with dark circles, and he hadn’t shaved in several days.

“Looks like you’re leaving,” Han said.

“Rebecca is no longer in the area,” Byrne said. “I believe she’s gone north. We received a report from Tamron Seat that someone resembling Rebecca was caught in a skirmish with Ardenine forces along the border between Tamron and Arden. We’re riding to Tamron Seat to investigate. It’s possible she’s there, in the capital.”

Han hesitated, then went ahead and said it. “You think she’s alive, then,” he said.

“She’s alive,” Byrne said, as if he hadn’t a doubt. He ran his hands through his hair. “But I need to find her. If she’s in Tamron, she’s in grave danger. Gerard Montaigne has invaded from the east. He’s got the capital encircled, demanding their surrender.”

“And you’re going into that?” Han shook his head. “You’re a mettlesome one, Corporal.” He paused. “If Bayar carried Rebecca off, and she’s still alive, I’d guess he’d take her back to the Fells, wouldn’t you? And if she left on her own, she’d head home, too.”

Byrne nodded. “If we don’t find her in Tamron, I’ll keep heading north, looking for signs she went that way. If I find her trail, I’ll follow it. Otherwise, I’ll cross into the Fens and enter the Fells at Westgate. If you hear anything, send a message there.”

“I will,” Han said. “But I came to let you know that I’m going back to the Fells, too. I didn’t want you to think I’d kicked town on you.”

“Which way will you go?” Byrne asked.

“I’ll go north to Fetters Ford, then east to Delphi,” Han said. “I’ll search for Rebecca that way, ending up at Marisa Pines Camp. If you find anything, or hear anything from the capital, send word to me there.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Byrne extended his hand. “Be careful,” he said.

Han gripped the offered hand. “You too,” he said. “See you at home.”

Abelard sent a runner for Han in the afternoon. When he entered her office, she stood staring out the window. “Did you know that the Bayars have left school?” she asked without preamble.

“I heard,” Han said. “They left in a hurry. With their cousins. And Wil Mathis.” He told her what he’d found at their dormitory.

Abelard turned around and looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Sit.” She motioned to a chair.

He sat. “That incident at the Wien Hall library, those people that were killed,” Han said. “I think the Bayars had something to do with it.”

“Do you?” Abelard toyed with a small jewel-encrusted dagger. Sunlight reflected off it, sending sparkles racing over the walls. “Why would you think that?”

“They disappeared the same night. Along with a friend of mine.”

“Friend?” Abelard tilted her head. “Who?”

“A Wien House cadet. Rebecca Morley. She used to work for the Bayars. She disappeared the same time they did.”

“I don’t know her,” Abelard said, dismissing Rebecca. “But it is likely the Bayars had to do with the killings at the library, in an indirect way.” She paused, those gray-green eyes assessing him. “The four dead are all assassins in the employ of Aerie House.”

“Assassins?” Han rubbed his head as if he could reshuffle his thoughts and be dealt a better hand. “Why would they come here? And who would’ve killed them?”

“I thought perhaps you could tell me,” Abelard said, running her thumb over the honed edge of the blade.

“Me?” Han shook his head. “I’m not following.”

Abelard gave him a don’t try to fool me kind of look. “They worked for the Bayars,” she said. “They were killed with wizardry.”

It finally clanked into place. “You think I did it?”

“Who in Oden’s Ford would the Bayars want to kill?” Abelard said. “An attack on the High Wizard can’t go unanswered forever.” She shrugged. “And who might be most likely to survive such an attack?”

Han leaned forward, hands on his knees, willing her to believe him. “Look, I don’t know why they were here, or who hushed them, but I had nothing to do with it.”

“It speaks for your reputation that Lord Bayar sent a team of four to do the job. I think that when Micah and Fiona found out what happened to their father’s assassins, they decided to leave before you came after them.”

Han shook his head. “It wasn’t me. Like I told you, my friend Rebecca disappeared from the library where the one assassin was found.”

“Perhaps she saw something she shouldn’t have?” Abelard said.

Han stood. “This is a waste of time,” he said, fighting back fury. “If you think I would have had anything to do with—”

“Sit down, Alister!” Abelard said. “It’s in your best interest to hear me out.”

Reluctantly, he sat, arms folded, glaring at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t look so distraught. There was nothing at the scene to tie it to you. And, I must say, I am more impressed than ever with your abilities.”

Han gave up. There was no way he’d persuade the dean that he hadn’t done the four, not when it all fit together so well and he had no other story to tell.

“Well, I think the Bayars left town for another reason,” he said. “And that’s what we should be looking into.”

Abelard nodded, tapping the desk with her blade. “You may be right. I would prefer to keep young Micah Bayar under my eye since he is central to his father’s ambitions.”

“I’m going back, too,” Han announced. “Tomorrow. I won’t be here for the summer after all.” He tipped his chin up and looked her in the eyes.

Propping her elbows on the desk, Abelard laced her fingers, resting her chin on her hands. “If you are thinking of taking revenge on the Bayars, I would advise you not to do anything rash,” she said.

“Never worry,” Han said. “If I take revenge, I’ll do it with great forethought and deliberation.”

The dean laughed. “You are amazing, Alister. Your clothing, your speech—you’ve gone from street rat to courtier in less than a year.” She paused. “I’d advise you to stay. If you go back now, you’ll be on your own. I can’t offer much protection from here.”

“I’m going anyway,” Han said.

Abelard shrugged. “I do have allies, however, and I will tell them to watch out for you. I intend to come back home in the summer or fall for an extended stay. Matters are accelerating such that I believe they require my close personal attention.”

Abelard reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a heavy purse. She plunked it on the desk in front of Han. “This will tide you over in the meantime.” The dean went on to give Han a list of jobs to do and people to meet after he arrived.

“The important thing is to keep the Bayars from further consolidating their influence with the queen,” she said. “I’m told that in the absence of the Princess Raisa, they hope to see Mellony named heir and married off to Micah. It may be why he’s returned home so suddenly. You must do everything you can to prevent this.”

“Everything?” Han raised an eyebrow.

Abelard smiled. “Good-bye, Alister. Stay alive until I get there.”

Han’s head spun as he descended the stairs. Was it possible that Micah Bayar was headed home for a wedding? And if he was, what could he, Han, do about it? Assassinate the bride and groom? Plan a massacre at the marriage feast?

Han had too many gang lords.

Cat and Dancer helped Han carry his saddlebags and panniers down so he could load his horses. “I still don’t understand why Abelard is sending you to Tamron Seat,” Dancer said. “Even if they have a large library, they can’t have much of a magical collection.”

“It’s more about politics,” Han said. “I need to keep her happy if I want to come back to school in the fall.”

Han scratched Ragger between the ears, and the pony laid back his ears and showed his teeth, ill-tempered as usual. “You like being lazy, sucking up hay in a warm barn, don’t you?” Han murmured. “Well now you have to get to work again. Both of us do.”

There had been little time for riding over the past few months. Now they’d get reacquainted.

“Can’t you at least stay until Dig—Night Bird leaves?” Dancer said. “She’ll be gone by the time you come back.”

“Night Bird and I haven’t got much to say to each other these days,” Han said. Their evening together had been awkward at best. Too many secrets divided them.

“She came all this way to see us,” Dancer said. “I think she’s getting used to the idea that we’re wizards. I mean, I think she’s sorry for the way she reacted when we—”

“The Demonai are just like everyone else: they ditch their high-minded principles whenever it’s convenient,” Han said.

Dancer frowned, his eyes searching Han’s face. “This is Bird we’re talking about,” he said. “You should give her a chance.”

Han didn’t really want to have a heart-to-heart about Digging Bird. Night Bird. Whoever she wanted to be these days. “Anyway, you’ve been working on amulets since exams were over, too,” Han said.

“I have to work on flash in the summer,” Dancer said. “It’s not part of the curriculum at Mystwerk House.”

Cat had been all twitchy during this long exchange, flinging back her hair, pacing back and forth, signaling that she had something to say.

“You should let me come with you,” she said. “I can’t watch your back if your back is in Tamron and I’m here.”

“I want you to keep looking for Rebecca,” Han said, strapping down his bedroll. “Keep asking questions. See if anyone knows anything. There’s a chance somebody saw something. And watch Dancer’s back. That’s what you should do while I’m gone.”

When everything was in readiness, Han leaned back against his pony, strangely reluctant to leave. There needed to be places like this—places to read and write and study and argue and debate with all different kinds of people and not have to look over your shoulder all the time. Places where the desire for knowledge overwhelmed boundaries and differences.

It was part of the reason he’d resisted hushing Micah during those first few weeks when his anger had threatened to spill over into violence.

His first task was to make it to Marisa Pines Camp without getting killed or recruited into somebody’s army. He’d look for Rebecca along the way. Corporal Byrne had seemed convinced she was alive, but Han couldn’t conjure up much hope.

Once back home, he’d find the Bayars and make them talk.

Han embraced Dancer, then Cat, and mounted Ragger.

“Travel safely,” Dancer said, in Clan. “Return to our hearth.”

Han nodded, wondering if he would ever return to Oden’s Ford.