The Seven Realms- The Complete Series

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “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 Nǽming. 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 she 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.

  “Look who’s here,” he said. “No doubt you’ll be in good hands now.”

  The market square was crowded with people. A group of riders was dismounting in front of the common lodge, surrounded by the usual gaggle of children and curiosity-seekers. Raisa recognized their horses—the best mountain ponies the clans could provide—and their distinctive winter travel garb. The unlidded eye glittered at their necks.

  Demonai, Raisa thought, picking out Reid Nightwalker’s tall frame among them. So these must be the warriors quartered in Fellsmarch, who had served as guard to her father.

  Reid walked toward them, having handed off his horse to one of his comrades, a girl Raisa recognized as Digging Bird. She had been with the party of Demonai warriors that had rescued Raisa and Amon from Robbie Sloat and his renegade guards back the past summer. Now Digging Bird wore a Demonai amulet too.

  “Your Highness!” Nightwalker said, in Clan, his relieved smile softening the honed planes of his face. “Or should I say, Your Majesty. I am relieved to see you up and walking around.”

  He bent his knee before Raisa, bringing his fist to his forehead, clan style. “The Demonai are ready to serve you, Briar Rose,” he said, raising his head to look at her. “We will fight relentlessly against those who tried to murder you and who continue to endanger the realm.” Clan always sounded more formal than Common.

  Nightwalker came back to his feet, graceful as any predator. His braids glittered with owl feathers and bits of silver, and his jacket and leggings were embroidered over with subtle Demonai symbols. His winter travel cloak was sunlight and shadow on snow—nearly invisible in the forest.

  One braid per wizard killed—that was the old rule of the Demonai. Most still went braided, centuries after the wizard wars supposedly ended.

  “Good you’re back from the city,” Raisa said to Nightwalker. “I’m told it’s a dangerous place these days.”

  The Demonai warrior shrugged. “I can look after myself,” he said. “Even though there is no safety for uplanders anywhere within the Fells anymore.” Reaching out, he put his fingers under Raisa’s chin and tilted her face up, examining the fading bruises on her cheekbone. “Of course, I don’t need to tell you that,” he said. “When I saw what had been done to you, I wanted to lead a party of warriors onto Gray Lady and rid ourselves of this infestation of wizards for good.” His voice shook a little, and it appeared to take some effort to regain his composure.

  “We have to resist a rush to judgment,” Raisa said. “While it’s tempting to blame my mother’s death on the gifted, we need better evidence before we—”

  “We do have better evidence,” Nightwalker interrupted. “We’ve learned something more about the queen’s death.”

  Raisa gripped his arm. “What is it? What did you find out?”

  Nightwalker shook his head, grimacing. “I should not have spoken prior to our meeting. It’s actually Lord Averill’s and Night Bird’s news to share.”

  “Night Bird?”

  Nightwalker nodded toward the warrior Raisa knew as Digging Bird, who was striding toward them from the pony corrals, a frown on her face. “Night Bird is her Demonai name,” he said.

  When Night Bird drew closer, her eyes fixed on Raisa, then went wide in recognition and surprise. The new warrior dropped to one knee before Raisa, her soft curls flopping forward as she bowed her head and brought her fist to her forehead. “Your Highness. I am sorry. I did not recognize you at first.”

  “Night Bird, I haven’t forgotten your brave service at the turning of the leaves,” Raisa said. “The Demonai warriors saved my life that day, and you played a major part.”

  Night Bird came back to her feet, seeming eager to escape the attention she was getting. “I am honored that you remember me.” She shifted her eyes away and bit her lip, her cheeks pink under her coppery skin. “Please accept my condolences at the loss of your mother the queen.” She seemed badly rattled for one who was usually so self-assured.

  Raisa inclined her head. “Thank you. Congratulations on being named to the Demonai. In these dangerous times, I’m grateful to have warriors like yourself that I can trust.”

  Night Bird raised both hands as if to ward off the compliment. She looked almost stricken. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she whispered through stiff lips.

  Ah, Raisa thought. She’s probably heard that Nightwalker and I have a history together, and she’s wondering what my return will mean to their relationship. Though she had better get used to it. Nightwalker has been making history for years, throughout the uplands.

  “Speaking of dangerous times,” Nightwalker said, breaking into Raisa’s thoughts, “Elena Cennestre tells me that Fire Dancer is here at Marisa Pines. Is that a good idea—to host two jinxflingers in camp at once? Especially given all that’s happened already. I understood that Dancer was to stay in the flatlands and continue his studies when Hunts Alone returned home.”

  “I can’t speak to that since I’ve just heard about this plan for the Demonai to train up wizards,” Raisa said dryly.

  “It was Lightfoot and Elena Cennestre,” Nightwalker said. “They did it without my knowledge. I found out about it only by chance. Briar Rose, it is risky to recruit jinxflingers to fight jinxflingers. Fire Dancer should adhere to the bargain that was struck.”

  “My cousin Dancer is Marisa Pines bred,” Night Bird said. “And that is the extent of his obligation.”

  Startled, Raisa and Nightwalker swiveled to face her.

  “As son of the matriarch, Willo Watersong, Dancer doesn’t answer to Elena Cennestre or Lord Averill,” Bird went on. “Unlike Hunts Alone, he made no bargain with the Demonai. Although he’s agreed to work with us, he does so on his own terms. When Fire Dancer learned that Hunts Alone had been recalled to the Fells, nothing I said could keep him in the flatlands.”

  “Then you should not have told Fire Dancer that Hunts Alone had been recalled,” Nightwalker said, lips tightening in annoyance. “I still don’t understand why you did that.”

  “I have known Fire Dancer since we were lytlings,” Night Bird said, putti
ng her hand on Nightwalker’s arm. “I trust him. He is someone that we want to have on our side.”

  The girl is different than last time I saw her, Raisa thought. She’s less bedazzled by Nightwalker. She’s speaking up more.

  “Under the terms of the Nǽming, wizards are not allowed in the Spirits,” Nightwalker said. “It is an accommodation to have them here at all.”

  “Even though Hunts Alone saved my life?” Raisa said.

  Nightwalker rolled his eyes. “If it’s even true, then the jinxflinger is merely keeping his end of the bargain.”

  “What do you mean if it’s true?” Raisa shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders.

  “Don’t you think it’s an odd coincidence that he just happened along when you were under attack?” Nightwalker said. “It’s almost as if it had been planned that way. And what better way to win your trust?”

  “What are you saying?” Raisa knew perfectly well what he was saying, but she wanted him to articulate it clearly.

  “Is it really believable that he could pluck you away from a crowd of assassins and emerge unscathed himself?” Nightwalker shrugged as if to say, Believe what you will, but…

  “He wasn’t unscathed,” Raisa retorted. “He used high magic to turn the poison. He’s been deathly ill for days from the effects of it.”

  “Hunts Alone is ill?” Night Bird looked from Raisa to Nightwalker. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “There’s not a mark on him, Elena says,” Nightwalker said. “It’s some mysterious jinxflinger illness, supposedly caused by the fact that he healed Briar Rose. It would be easy enough to fake.”

  “Perhaps you should speak to Willo, then,” Raisa said acidly. “And explain to her how Hunts Alone fooled her so adeptly.”

  “I’m not saying he’s lying.” Nightwalker raised both hands. “I’m just saying it’s a possibility. We should be wary of jinxflinger lies, especially given what’s happened to the queen.”