The Gray Wolf Throne

by Chima, Cinda Williams

“You care about your pony too,” Han said. “Your pony provides a useful service.” He closed his eyes again, as if he couldn’t bear to look on her anymore.

  Raisa couldn’t seem to find the right words, the right thing to say. If there even was a right thing. Han Alister always had a way of making her lose her footing. Now the raw grief over her recent losses and her guilt over lying to him rendered her inarticulate, stopped up the speech that usually came so easily to her. And so what she said only made things worse.

  “I can certainly understand if you’re…if you’re angry. I know that you blame the Queen’s Guard and—and Queen Marianna for what happened to your family. Maybe me as well. I wish there were some way to bring them back. But I can’t. I’d do almost anything not to have to confess this to you. You must feel that your trust has been violated.”

  Han opened his eyes and looked at her without moving any other part of his body. “Your mother is dead,” he said. A statement.

  “Yes,” Raisa said.

  “Good,” he said, closing his eyes again.

  They flew open again when Amon Byrne spoke from the doorway.

  “Your…Rai…ah…would now be convenient?”

  As he stumbled over her name, Raisa realized Amon didn’t know if she’d told Han her true identity.

  Amon’s eyes shifted from Raisa to Han. He’d wanted to come with her when she’d told him she meant to tell Han Alister the truth.

  I need to face him on my own, she’d said. There are some things you can’t protect me from.

  “He knows,” Raisa said, twisting her hands in her lap. “So it’s all right with me, but…Corporal Byrne wanted to speak with you, remember?” she said to Han. “Is that all right, or would you rather do it another time?”

  Han scowled, and she thought he would refuse. After a long moment, he sighed, sitting up straighter. “Now is as good a time as any,” he said.

  Obviously, speaking with Amon was preferable to continuing to converse with her.

  Amon came and stood at Han’s bedside, shifting from one foot to the other. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

  “Sit down, Corporal Byrne,” Han said, squinting up at him. “You’re making me edgy, looming over me like a snub-devil bawler.” The pain, betrayal, and vulnerability were gone. Replaced by his street face.

  Raisa wondered if he were using the thief-lord patter flash on purpose, to needle her.

  “Sit here, Amon,” Raisa said quickly, getting up from her chair and retreating a few paces away. “I insist.”

  Amon sat, resting his hands on his knees. “I wanted to thank you for risking your life to save the Princess Raisa,” he said.

  “Just so you know,” Han said, brushing his hand over his face, “I didn’t actually set out to save a princess.”

  “I know,” Amon said. “And I apologize for lying to you. We felt it was necessary for Her Highness’s safety.”

  “Well,” Han said, “it explains a lot. All this time, I was feeling sorry for you, having a flirt for a sweetheart. And here it turns out it was strictly business between the two of you.”

  His chilly blue-eyed gaze flicked from Amon to Raisa, and something about the mocking way he said it told Raisa that he didn’t believe that at all. That he was smart enough to know their relationship was more tangled than that.

  “Yes,” Amon said, swallowing hard. “Strictly business.” He kept staring at Han, his brows drawn together like he was puzzled about something. “There’s something about you that’s…that reminds me of…” He looked at Raisa, then shook his head, dismissing it.

  “I hoped you could tell me more about my father’s death,” Amon went on. “The—Her Highness has told me what she knows.”

  Han’s mocking expression faded, his features softened. “Captain Byrne was a brave man,” he said. “And fair. My father was a soldier too. I don’t remember much about him, but I’d like to think he was like your da.” He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “I don’t know that I can help much. Captain Byrne was already dead when I came along, and his killers had gone after—had gone. But I have something for you.”

  He turned a peeved expression on Raisa, as if aggravated that he was forced to speak with her. “Do you know what they did with my gear?”

  “It’s over here,” Raisa said. She crossed to the outside wall, grateful for something to do.

  Kneeling, she sorted through Han’s belongings, and rose, cradling a deerskin bundle in her arms. “Was this what you wanted?”

  Han nodded. “There should be a ring, too,” he said. “In my purse.”

  Raisa handed the purse and the bundle to him.

  Han fished in the purse and came up with the wolf ring. He looked up at Amon. “I took these because I was afraid someone else coming through the pass would steal them,” he said, as if he thought he had to defend robbing Captain Byrne’s body. “I hoped I might have the chance to give them to you.”

  He handed both the ring and the bundle over to Amon, who carefully unwrapped it, sliding the sword free.

  Amon lifted the sword, turning it so the light reflected off the blade. It was the Sword of Hanalea, and it matched the dagger that Byrne had given Raisa.

  Amon looked up at Han. “I know this sword,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Queen Marianna gave it to my father. It was one of his most cherished possessions. I…it seems I need to thank you again.”

  Han waved off Amon’s thanks. “Well, good. You can make use of it, then. Never learned to do much with a sword myself. Smaller blades are more my style, the kind you can hide.” He fingered his sleeve to demonstrate, then dropped his hands into his lap.

  “What about those that did the killing?” Amon said. “Do you know if—”

  “All dead,” Han said, meeting Amon’s gaze without apology. “I hope that helps.”

  Amon nodded, looking relieved. “It does. It might keep the Princess Raisa safe a little longer.”

  Han shrugged his shoulders. “So. I’m sorry for your loss. The world can’t afford to lose men like your father.” He extended his hand, and Amon gripped it.

  Well, at least they’re getting along better, Raisa thought.

  They all looked up at the sound of a disturbance in the outer room: a clamor of clan voices, Dancer’s rising in protest.

  “No! Don’t go in there. Briar Rose is speaking with—”

  Two people burst into the room without announcing themselves—Elena Cennestre and Averill Demonai. Trailed by Willo, Dancer, and Cat.

  After a perfunctory nod at Raisa, Elena and Averill came and stood over Han, staring down at him as if he were an exotic specimen. He sat up a little straighter, arranging his bedclothes around himself. Raisa knew he felt vulnerable, pounded by her confession and now surrounded by his masters, the powerful clan royalty. She wished she could send them away, tell them to return in a week when he’d had time to recover.

  But she couldn’t. Events were bearing down on them relentlessly.

  Willo must have felt the same, because she stood at a little distance, arms folded, looking like she wanted to expel the visitors, too.

  “Well?” Elena said, looking at Fire Dancer and raising her eyebrows, gesturing toward Han. “Did it work? Will he be up to casting charms in the next few days?”

  Dancer went still for a long moment, then sighed as if this were a question he didn’t want to answer in front of Han. “It helped,” he said finally. “I’ve been feeding Hunts Alone’s amulet for two days. I think he is feeling better. Aren’t you?” He looked at Han for corroboration, trying to include him in the conversation.

  Han looked from Dancer to Elena, his expression momentarily perplexed. Then it cleared once again to a blank, flat expression. He slid his hand under his shirt and fingered his amulet, whether for comfort or possible defense, Raisa wasn’t sure.

  He said nothing.

  Averill put his hand on Elena’s arm and shook his head. “Elena Cennestre, please.” He turned to Han and bowed, bringing
his fist to his forehead, a clan greeting. “Hunts Alone, welcome to our hearth. Please share our fire and all that we have.” He paused. “It is good to see you are feeling better,” he said. “Because of your illness, I have not had the opportunity to thank you for saving my daughter’s life. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  “We are eager to hear your story,” Elena said. “If what Willo Watersong believes is true, it seems our investment in you has paid off.”

  “Has it?” Han said, looking from one to the other. “Then why don’t we call it evens.”

  “This was just one battle,” Elena said quickly. “The war is just beginning.”

  “Our immediate challenge is this,” Averill said. “It is likely that those who tried to murder Queen Raisa will try again as soon as they realize they were unsuccessful. This is a very dangerous time, from now through the coronation.”

  “The coronation?” Han looked over at Raisa, no trace of emotion on his face. “Oh. I get it. So she’s not really the queen yet.”

  “She is the queen of the Fells,” Elena said, glaring at Han, “by the rules of the Næ´ming. But if she dies, the crown passes to her sister, Mellony. The queen’s enemies believe Briar Rose is dead already. So those who tried to kill her will likely try to crown Mellony.”

  Han poured himself more tea. “So maybe Queen Raisa had better hurry back to the palace before they change the monograms on the silver.”

  “I agree,” Raisa said. “I need to return to Fellsmarch before these plans get any further along.”

  Averill shook his head. “To be honest, based on what I have observed, it will be difficult to assure your safety if you return to the Vale now.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Raisa looked from her father to Elena. “I’m not a coward,” she said. “I don’t mean to hide out in the mountains while they crown my sister in my place.”

  “No one who knows you would call you a coward,” Averill said. “But the reality is, your enemies have had nearly a year in which to grow their power unhindered. They’ve put allies and henchmen into positions of trust—in the Guard, in the army, in the palace. We will have to proceed carefully.”

  “Carefully, yes,” Raisa said. “But I need to stand up to these people. It was running away that created this situation in the first place.”

  Averill put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Briar Rose, I’ve already lost Marianna. I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “What happens next?” Han asked loudly, like he was impatient with this father-daughter heart-to-heart.

  Averill turned back to Han. “The speakers have chosen Queen Marianna’s final resting place here in the Spirits, and the peak will be renamed to honor her. The coronation will be held after the queen’s entombment. According to the recently revised provisions of the succession, Mellony will be crowned if Raisa is still missing at the time of the coronation.”

  He squatted to put his face at the same level as Han’s. As a trader, persuasion was his specialty. “We need to let everyone know that the true heir has returned to the Fells. She needs to be seen and recognized by the people, by the Council of Nobles and the Wizard Council, so no one can claim otherwise. And we need to accomplish this without getting her killed.” He smiled grimly. “It won’t be easy. We’ll all need to work together.”

  “The Princess Mellony is, for all intents and purposes, in the custody of our enemies,” Elena put in. “The palace is under their control as well. So it will be difficult for Briar Rose to return there now.”

  “As consort to the late queen and father of the princesses, I am on the Council of Regents,” Averill said. “But I’m just one voice. Lord Bayar is pressing for Mellony’s coronation, sooner rather than later.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Han asked. He seemed to be making a point of ignoring Raisa.

  “That is where we are hoping that you and Fire Dancer can help us,” Averill said. “There was a time that the Demonai were more conversant with charmcaster talents, charms, and capabilities. Some of that knowledge has been lost. Perhaps we can discuss this over the next few days and arrive at a plan of action.”

  Han drew his knees up under the covers and wrapped his arms around them.

  He’s so young, Raisa thought. He’s only—what—seventeen? Why is he having to make these kinds of decisions? Why am I?

  She thought back to a scant ten months ago, when her biggest dilemmas revolved around whether to wear black or white or purple to the Bayars’ name day party.

  I was born to this, though, she thought. He has no money on the table. Except his own life.

  “Where will the coronation be?” Han asked.

  “Traditionally, it is held in the Cathedral Temple,” Averill said. “It will be best if we can keep Raisa’s presence here a secret until that time.”

  “I will attend my mother’s memorial services and burial,” Raisa announced.

  Han’s gaze brushed over her, then away again.

  Averill winced. “Briar Rose, I know that you want to honor your mother,” he began. “But it’s just too dangerous. I know that she will understand if you—”

  “Father, I have not been allowed to bathe and dress her body,” Raisa said bitterly. “Nor hold vigil over her bier in the temple. I mean to be by her side as she greets our ancestors, the Gray Wolf queens. She will speak to them on my behalf, and introduce me as her successor. It is part of the ritual. It is part of the process that makes me queen.”

  Tears ran down Raisa’s cheeks, and she blotted at them with the back of her hand. She’d kept her tears in check all through her conversation with Han. Now she was ambushed by grief and regret once again.

  “There is so much I would like to say to her—that I wish I had said to her before,” she said. “We parted in anger, and now that will never be resolved.” She fisted her hands and extended to her full height. “You would demand to be there, Father, if you were me. The entire Wizard Council wouldn’t keep you away. I will not have her committed to the flame without seeing her.”

  Raisa’s father and grandmother looked at each other, seeming at a loss for how to handle their uncooperative queen-to-be.

  “Why don’t we make our final decision once we have an idea what the charmcasters can do,” Elena said. She looked at Han. “Nightwalker will be back this afternoon. We’ll meet after dinner tonight to determine whether—”

  “Then you had better go and let this charmcaster rest,” Willo said, nodding at Han. “Else you may be handling this problem all on your own.”

  “When is the burial?” Han asked abruptly.

  “The burial service is scheduled for Sunday,” Averill said. “Three days from now.”

  “I’m riding down to Fellsmarch today,” Amon said. “I’m taking my father’s ashes back to the capital to arrange for his burial. I’ll speak with my cadets and find out the news. If you wait until tomorrow afternoon, I’ll have more information.”

  Raisa glanced at him, surprised. She hadn’t realized he planned to leave again so soon. “I would also like to attend Captain Byrne’s memorial,” she said.

  “Perhaps you will,” Amon said. “Please. Just give me until tomorrow.”

  “What will you say about your father’s death?” Averill asked him, his face sympathetic. The elder Byrne and Averill had been friends, even though they had both been in love with Marianna. Relationships were complicated at court, but Averill the trader was a master at handling those complications.

  “He and his triple were apparently attacked by a band of southern mercenaries on their way back to the capital,” Amon said. “Everyone was killed.”

  “I’ll ride down to the city with you,” Averill said. “The Council of Regents is meeting tomorrow morning and I will need to be there to support you.”

  Elena nodded. “Thank you, Corporal Byrne. Take care along the way, both of you. We’ll meet tomorrow afternoon, then.” She sighed. “I wish things were different, Willo,” she said softly, as close as s
he would get to an apology. “I wish we didn’t have to fight wizards at a time when we are mourning so many losses.”

  Averill and Elena walked out together. Willo turned and looked pointedly at the rest of them, tapping her moccasined foot.

  Dancer raised his hand. “Mother. Just give me a few minutes with Hunts Alone,” he said. “Then I’ll go.” He sat down in the chair next to Han’s bed, the one Amon had vacated.

  “I’ll stay too,” Cat Tyburn said, settling in by the hearth. Raisa had almost forgotten she was there.

  “Han,” Raisa said softly. He didn’t look up. “I just want you to know that—”

  But he shook his head, raising both hands, palms out, as if pushing her out the door.

  Raisa didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave Han with that awful, blank, lonely look on his face. But she, of everyone, had done the most to put it there.

  She shrugged into her jacket in the outer room and walked out into the glittering sunlight with Amon. It had snowed again overnight, and she had to lift her skirts to keep them from dragging in the snow where it hadn’t yet been beaten down.

  “I feel sorry for Alister,” Amon said. “I never thought I’d say that, but I do. There’s a lot of pressure on him to come up with a plan. And if anything goes wrong, you know it’ll be his fault.”

  Amon took Raisa’s arm, pointing her back in the direction of the common lodge. “When I return from the city, I’ll meet with him again to see how we can work together to keep you safe.” They took a half dozen more steps, and he said, “It would be easier if you didn’t attend your mother’s memorial.”

  “I know. But I have to.” She paused. “I wish you didn’t have to ride down to Fellsmarch. Those who tried to kill me would likely seize any opportunity to make you disappear too. After everything that’s happened, I don’t want to let anyone I love out of my sight.”

  Amon’s stride faltered. “That goes both ways, Rai,” he said. “I’m responsible for your safety. But I can’t do my job well if I’m constantly chained to your hip.”

  He looked ahead and made a face. Well, it was just a drawing together of eyebrows and a tightening of the lips, but Raisa knew Amon very well.