The Gray Wolf Throne

by Cinda Williams Chima

“We did search the queen’s bedchamber and the—the area around her body,” Amon said, licking his lips and glancing at Raisa. “It’s always possible they may have missed something.”

  “We will search her bedchamber and her garden again, thoroughly,” Averill said. “I’ll return to the city tonight and enlist the rest of the Demonai.”

  “Where…where is my mother now?” Raisa asked, hoping it wasn’t a cold place. Marianna had always hated the cold.

  “She lies in state in the Cathedral Temple,” Averill said, “in Speaker Jemson’s care. Once the speakers divine her final resting place in the Spirits, we will arrange for her burial.”

  “What about Mellony?” Raisa asked, suddenly seized with the urge to see her sister. “Where is she? And…how is she, do you know?”

  Averill shook his head. “She is being held closely in Fellsmarch Castle, for her own safety, it is said. She is fragile, as you know, and distraught, of course, about her mother. They were so close.…” His voice trailed off, and Raisa knew he wished he could take the words back.

  She had caught the implication, of course—Marianna and Mellony were close, as Raisa and her mother were not.

  “I was not able to speak with Mellony in private,” Averill went on, “much as I tried. She is surrounded by armies of guards and ladies-in-waiting, and the Bayars are constantly with her.”

  “The Bayars? Which Bayars?” Elena demanded.

  “All of them. Gavan Bayar, Micah, Fiona, and Lady Bayar,” Averill said. He paused. “As consort, I don’t have the authority to send them away. They’re like attack dogs surrounding a pretty pet. I expect an announcement of Mellony’s betrothal to Micah any day now, though I’m guessing they would delay any wedding plans until after Mellony’s coronation. Just to be sure.”

  Raisa nearly dropped her tea. She leaned forward. “What? What do you mean?”

  Averill looked at Willo and Elena, almost accusingly. “She doesn’t know?”

  “Briar Rose is just out of her sickbed today,” Willo said. “It seemed wise to allow her to gain strength before we told her.”

  Elena nodded. “We didn’t see any reason to bring it up now. As long as Marianna was alive and healthy, it seemed…premature.”

  “Tell me,” Raisa said through stiff lips, knowing matters were about to get even worse.

  “The queen meant well,” Averill said. “Despite your differences, she wanted to protect your right to the throne. You must know that, Briar Rose.”

  “Will someone please tell me what’s happened with the succession?” Raisa said, gripping the arms of the chair to keep from springing to her feet.

  “Queen Marianna was under tremendous pressure from both the Wizard Council and her own council of nobles,” Averill said. “You had disappeared, and she did not want to mention your letter for fear of putting you in danger.”

  Raisa looked up and met Amon’s eyes, saw the question in them—what letter? She shifted her gaze back to Averill.

  “But in the last few months, Marianna drew courage from somewhere,” Averill said. “Perhaps she knew in her heart of hearts she was being deceived, was being spelled by the High Wizard. She dismissed Speaker Redfern and brought Speaker Jemson to the Cathedral Temple. He has been a great source of strength to her, but a source of pressure also. As you know, he is committed to the Old Faith, to the restrictions put in place after the Breaking, and to the integrity of the Gray Wolf line.”

  Averill loved her, Raisa thought. He’s always loved her. Even with everything that’s happened to divide them. What a pity she never loved him back.

  So many regrets. So many lost opportunities.

  “Lord Bayar kept after the queen,” Averill continued, “telling her that if something happened to her, there would be a vacuum of power, that there could be a civil war, that we could be invaded from the south. Most members of the Queen’s Council supported Bayar.”

  Bright Hand approached with the teapot, and Raisa impatiently waved him away. “So?”

  “So two weeks ago Marianna announced a change in the succession,” Averill said heavily. “She maintained you as princess heir, but added a provision that allowed Mellony to be crowned queen if Marianna herself were to pass away and you had not returned.”

  Raisa stared at her father as the implications of this soaked in.

  “She meant to protect your claim while addressing the concerns about a vacuum of power,” Averill said quietly. “I believe that she knew you were best suited to succeed her. She was trying to satisfy the Spirit clans, the Wizard Council, the speakers, and the Council of Nobles.”

  “Blood of the demon,” Raisa whispered. “She tried to please everyone, and maybe signed her own death warrant.” She pressed her fingertips against her temples. Her head pounded, as if thoughts and revelations were banging on the inside of her skull.

  “Here’s a theory,” she said through her fingers. “Micah and Fiona returned home and told their father that I’d left Oden’s Ford and might be on my way back. That forced Bayar’s hand. He couldn’t take the risk that I’d show up and ruin everything. So he murdered the queen, my mother, and set a trap for me. If I stayed in the south, Mellony would have been crowned and married to Micah. Even if I showed up later, they’d have time to dig in so they’d be impossible to dislodge. If I were stubborn enough to stay and fight, they would have found a way to do away with me then. But, naturally, the best outcome was to make sure I’d never come back.”

  “We have no proof of that, Briar Rose,” Willo said softly.

  Raisa shook her head. “Just humor me here. If I were dead and there was no alternative, the clans would have to accept Mellony. So the Wizard Council probably assumed it was a good bet to proceed.”

  “Your Highness, we would never—” Elena began.

  “What choice would you have?” Raisa interrupted. “Who else would you get? My cousin Missy Hakkam?” Raisa shuddered. “Mellony would be the only surviving heir to the Gray Wolf line.”

  They’d been outfoxed all along the way. They’d underestimated the ruthlessness of their enemies. If not for Edon Byrne and Hanson Alister, they would have won already.

  They they they, Raisa thought. I have to be careful. As Willo says, we have no proof it was the Bayars. Not yet.

  But who else could it be? Who else had an interest in seeing Mellony on the throne? Or was there another motivation she wasn’t seeing? Did she have enemies of her own? Gerard Montaigne, for instance. He would benefit from a vacuum of power in the Fells.

  And if it was the Bayars, which Bayars? Was Micah involved?

  Into the charged silence, Raisa said, “What are people saying? In the palace and in the streets?”

  “There is some gossip,” Averill said. He stopped, searching Raisa’s face for permission to go on. “There is talk within the close, Your Highness, that the queen took her own life,” he said. “There is talk that she had been drinking to excess. This talk is widespread and persistent.”

  I wonder how that got started, Raisa thought bitterly. Listen and learn. Show any sign of weakness, and your enemies will pounce.

  “And…outside the close?” Raisa asked.

  “People are worried,” Averill said. “They know that you are missing, and they wonder what will happen now. They don’t know anything about Mellony, while you have considerable support among the working classes. Because of the Briar Rose Ministry.”

  A worrisome thought crowded to the front of Raisa’s mind. “Who else knows I’m alive?” she asked, looking around the circle. “You sent word to my father. Was the Guard notified, or the Council of Nobles, or…”

  “I told no one in the capital about the attack,” Averill said. “So whoever was behind it is probably wondering what happened. And worrying that you might suddenly surface.”

  “People in camp are talking,” Willo said, “even though I rushed you into Matriarch Lodge as soon as I recognized you. You arrived in the middle of the day, after all, and the Demonai nearly shot Hunts A
lone when he brought you in.” She passed a weary hand over her forehead. “There are rumors going around, but only my apprentices know who you really are.”

  “Well,” Raisa said, “I hope we can keep it within the camp until we—Bones!” She slammed her fist into her other palm as a thought struck her. “This won’t work if any of those who tried to kill me returned to Fellsmarch saying that I got away. If they did, they’ll be on the watch for me to return to the city.”

  “Let’s hope that Hunts Alone is well enough to answer questions in a day or two,” Willo said.

  Han. A wave of weariness and despair washed over Raisa, and she leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “Your Highness,” Willo said. “You must rest. All of these problems will still be here tomorrow.”

  Raisa nodded, wishing it were not so. Wishing she could go to sleep and wake up to a world with her mother still in it. A world where she would be safe and protected for a little while longer.

  C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N

  WALKING WOUNDED

  The others dispersed to various lodges for the night. Willo slept on a cot in Han’s room, in case he needed anything. Amon would have bedded down in his clothes in front of the door to the common room where Raisa slept, but Willo had the apprentices set up a cot for him.

  Weary as she was, Raisa couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Her back ached despite the willow bark tea she’d taken for pain. Every time she closed her eyes, scenes from the past intruded, actions she wished she could remake with the wisdom of hindsight. She lay on her stomach, tears dampening her pillow, a vast aching hollow in her middle.

  She heard Amon tossing and turning on his cot by the door.

  Guilt and grief thickened the air, smothering her, making it difficult to breathe. No. She could not—she would not allow Amon to torment himself.

  She sat up, easing her back against the wall, wary of pressing on her wound. “Amon?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

  His answer came back through the darkness. “Yes. Do you need something?”

  “Come sit with me? Please?”

  She heard the creak of his cot as he sat up, putting his feet on the floor. He padded over and sat down on the cot next to her. It sagged under his weight. “Are you all right? Do you want me to call Willo?”

  Raisa shook her head. “Neither of us is sleeping, and we’re both hurting, and I really, really want to talk to you.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Amon asked. “Willo said you should rest.”

  “I think talking would do me more good.” Raisa patted the bed next to her. “Here. Lean against the wall.”

  Amon slid toward the head of the cot and arranged himself next to her, trying to get comfortable in the narrow space.

  She took his hand, cradling it between her own. “Just stop it,” she said. “Stop blaming yourself.”

  For a long moment he said nothing, a dark silhouette in the light from the window. Then, “What makes you think I’m blaming myself?”

  He was still a terrible liar.

  “Because I know you. If anyone’s to blame for all of this, it’s me.”

  He raked his free hand through his hair. “Why would you blame yourself? None of this is your fault.”

  “Not my fault? Where do I start?” Raisa bit her lip. “If I hadn’t left the Fells, none of this would have happened. My mother would still be alive, and your father, and all the guards who died defending me.” She shuddered. “If I had stayed home, maybe we could have worked out our differences.”

  Amon thought this over. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t come back with an immediate denial. “Well,” he said, “you had no way of knowing how it would come out.”

  “You had no way of knowing,” Raisa said. “I’m supposed to have the gift of prophesy. Why couldn’t I have seen how it would end?”

  “Prophesy never seems to work that way,” Amon said. “Even when people see the future, they don’t understand it, or they don’t believe it, or they close their eyes to it.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Amon said, “I’ve been wondering this ever since you disappeared from Oden’s Ford. What happened? Was it Micah?”

  “Lord Bayar sent four assassins to Oden’s Ford to murder me. Micah offered me an alternative—marry him instead. So I agreed.”

  Understanding dawned in Amon’s gray eyes. “So Micah was the one that killed the assassins?”

  Raisa nodded.

  “Ah,” Amon said. “That’s one mystery solved. We couldn’t figure that out—who would have killed them with wizardry.”

  “Well,” Raisa said, leaning against him, “I managed to kill one on my own.” It all seemed so long ago, on the far shore of a turbulent sea of events. “We were on our way north when we ran into Gerard Montaigne’s army on its way into Tamron. A Tamric patrol showed up, and I escaped in the confusion.”

  “I knew you had gone north, I could feel it,” Amon said. “Since you were spotted during the skirmish, I thought you’d likely gone to Tamron Court.”

  She shook her head. “I decided to go on home since I was halfway there.”

  “I should have kept a closer eye on you at Oden’s Ford,” Amon said. “We knew you’d eventually run into the Bayars.”

  Raisa shook her head. “No. Stop. That was my fault too. It was my letter to my mother that gave me away.” She swiped away a tear that had somehow leaked out.

  “What letter? The one your father mentioned?”

  “I persuaded Hallie to carry a letter from me to Queen Marianna, via my father,” Raisa said. “I wanted her to know why I left, and that I was coming back. I should have known the Bayars would be watching everyone close to me in case I tried to get in contact. That’s how they found out I was at Oden’s Ford. It wasn’t a random sighting at all.” She swallowed hard. “And it may have been my letter that caused her to change the succession the way she did.”

  “Well.” Amon considered this. “Maybe otherwise she’d have disinherited you entirely.”

  “But she might still be alive,” Raisa said.

  “But for how long?” Amon said. “Once Mellony was set to inherit, they’d want to make it happen and put Micah on the throne.”

  Long enough for me to see her again, Raisa thought.

  They sat in silence for a while. Finally Raisa spoke.

  “Your turn. I thought…When your father told me you were in Tamron Court, and Montaigne had the city under siege, I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

  He squeezed her hand, but said nothing.

  “So what happened?” Raisa said. “Captain Byrne said you intentionally gave out the story that I was in the city in order to keep Montaigne occupied.”

  Amon grunted.

  “Weren’t you afraid of what Prince Gerard would do when he found out you’d fooled him?” Raisa said.

  Amon shrugged, looking down at their joined hands.

  “Will you say something, please?” Raisa said, exasperated. “What were you thinking? How did you get away?”

  He sighed heavily. “Just be glad you weren’t there, Rai,” he said. “Gerard is a monster, but the royal family of Tamron isn’t much better. Those Tomlins spend most of their time plotting against each other. When all else fails, they resort to poison. During the siege, the entire city was starving, but King Markus hosted a feast every night inside the palace. He was furious when Queen Marianna wouldn’t send an army to drive off Montaigne—even though he’d lied to her. He threatened to kill off the Gray Wolves, one each day, ending with me, if the Fells didn’t respond.”

  Raisa’s mouth went dry. “What? How could he possibly blame you if… ?”

  “Don’t try to apply logic to what he does,” Amon said. After a thick pause, he added, “Wode Mara was the first.”

  Raisa stiffened and sat upright. “Wode? He’s…he’s dead?”

  Amon nodded, twisting the gold wolf ring on his finger. “And don’t ask me how he died, because I’m not goi
ng to tell you.”

  Wode was a red-haired cadet, with a broad, pleasant, perpetually sunburned face. He had a girl back in Chalk Cliffs, and was saving up to marry her.

  “That’s not possible,” Raisa whispered.

  “I thought I would have to kill Markus myself, but Liam Tomlin beat me to it. He and his sister poisoned him.”

  “Liam? Poisoned his father?” Raisa recalled Liam and his sister, the Princess Marina, at her name day party—both tall, graceful charmers, with soft curls and strong noses. And a way with poison, apparently.

  I’m not ready to be queen, Raisa thought, shuddering. I’m not ready to go up against all these ruthless people. I’m not ready to play this high-stakes game as ruler of the Fells.

  “Liam was crowned king, but he didn’t get to enjoy it for very long,” Amon said. “Montaigne breached the walls two days later. And after that…after that it was a massacre.” Amon closed his eyes, the lashes dark against his pale cheeks.

  “How did you get away?” Raisa asked. “And—and what about the rest of the Gray Wolves?”

  “Tamron is soft, and the Ardenines know it,” Amon said. “They aren’t used to fighting for their lives. The Ardenines were focused on two things—capturing you and the Tomlins, and stealing everything that wasn’t bolted down. They slaughtered everyone who got in the way.” Amon passed his hand over his face as if to wipe the memory away.

  “So we each killed an Ardenine soldier of the right size, and stole the uniforms. We’ve all been to the academy; we speak the language well enough to pass. We sieved through the lines while they were otherwise occupied. We went northeast to Swansea because we knew the roads to Fetters Ford and Oden’s Ford would be closely watched.

  “But the worst part—the worst part was, I knew you were in trouble. I knew you were in danger, I knew you were dying, and I couldn’t get to you.” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t reach you. You can’t imagine…what that was like.” His voice shook.

  Raisa recalled Amon’s voice in her head. Don’t you die, Rai, don’t you give in.

  “I think that your father had a premonition,” Raisa said. “It was almost like he knew what would be demanded of him, and he made the sacrifice.”