Raisa had returned from Demonai to find that Mellony and Queen Marianna had grown even closer, leaving Raisa feeling more like an outsider than ever.
She leaned toward Mellony. “You look cold and miserable,” she said. “Didn’t you bring anything to shed the rain?” She instantly regretted it. It sounded like she was being critical rather than sympathetic.
And that’s how Mellony took it. The corners of her mouth curved down. “Who knew it would start to rain?” she said. “The weather wizards did not predict it.”
“If you ride into the mountains, you have to be prepared for changeable weather,” Raisa said, unable to stop herself in her exhausted state.
“You should call Micah forward,” Mellony said loftily. “We often go riding together. He knows how to shield against the rain.”
“Just because he knows how to do it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to use wizardry for such a purpose,” Raisa said, thinking guiltily of how Han had dried her cloak in Oden’s Ford. “You should be wary of allowing wizards to charm your person.”
“You’re one to talk,” Mellony said, pouting. “When you show up entangled in a wizard’s fetch.”
That sounded too much like Lord Bayar’s words.
This wasn’t going well.
Before Raisa could think to ask it, Amon Byrne slowed his pace, angling his horse in closer. He draped his thick Guard cloak over Mellony’s shoulders, then spurred ahead again to give them privacy.
Protector of the line.
They’d left the slopes of Marianna behind and were now crossing the relatively flat Vale, making better time as the rain had diminished to an annoying drizzle. The hardpan road presented its own hazards, however—huge puddles hid large craters in the surface.
It needs repair, Raisa thought, like everything else. Where will we get the funds?
“Where have you been all this time, anyway?” Mellony went on. “We thought you were dead.” She sounded almost as if Raisa had pulled a nasty trick by being alive.
“I was in Oden’s Ford most of the time,” Raisa said. “Attending classes at the academy.”
“You were going to school?” Mellony raised her fair brows. “You ran away to go to school?” As if this were inconceivable.
Raisa glanced about, wary of getting into the meat of the story with so many eyes and ears close by. “They have wonderful teachers there, and students come from all over the Seven Realms. I learned so much.” An idea struck her. “You could go there, you know,” she said. “You could study whatever you like. I think we should send more students to the academy than we do. Not just wizards.”
Mellony’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Now that you’ve come back, you mean to send me away?” Her voice cracked.
“No, no,” Raisa said quickly. “Not unless you want to go. I only thought it would be a great opportunity for you. When you returned, you could serve on my council. I’ll have need of counselors I can trust.”
“I love my teachers and tutors,” Mellony said, her voice rising. “I love being at court. Why would I want to go anywhere else?”
I would love to go back to Oden’s Ford, Raisa thought. That’s a mistake I make constantly—thinking Mellony wants the same things I do.
She’s changed while I’ve been gone, Raisa thought. In the past, she’d always relied on her sunny, uncomplicated personality. Now she seems angry and suspicious and resentful.
Thirteen is a hard age, Raisa thought. She’s had a hard year and a heartbreaking week.
“Never mind.” Raisa reached across and touched Mellony’s shoulder. “Come, let’s not fight on the day we buried our mother.”
“It’s your fault she’s dead,” Mellony said, jerking away from Raisa’s hand.
That fanned the flames of the guilt Raisa was already feeling. And frayed away what remained of her patience. “How can you say that?” she demanded, forgetting to keep her voice down.
Amon glanced back at them, eyebrows raised, lips tight together. Now Han nudged his horse forward so he came abreast of them. “Your Highness, you and the princess could use some privacy. I’m nearly used up, but I think I can manage.” Touching his amulet, he gestured, and a curtain of silence descended, blocking out sound all around them.
He reined in his horse so he fell behind them again, following at a respectful distance.
Mellony raised her chin as if to say, See? You have your wizards, too. But what she said was, “Is it true he’s a thief and a murderer?”
Maybe, Raisa thought of saying. Or, probably. “He used to be,” she said. “He was streetlord of Ragmarket.”
“A wizard streetlord,” Mellony said, swiping rain from the tip of her nose. “That’s romantic, in a way.”
“I doubt he’d describe it that way,” Raisa said. “Anyway, he didn’t become a wizard until after he’d left the streets.”
“What do you mean, become a wizard?” Mellony said. “Wizards are born, not made. Unless Lord Bayar is right, and he’s made some kind of deal with the Breaker.” She shivered. “Do you think that’s possible?”
“If he made a deal, he made a poor bargain,” Raisa said. “And I know for a fact that he’s a better trader than that.”
“He is handsome,” Mellony allowed, “in a wicked kind of way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that blue on a man before. And the way he looks at a person—almost unnatural, like he can look right through your clothes. And dressed all in black like that, his hair…”
“Mellony,” Raisa said gently. Charm or not, she wanted to stay away from the subject of Han Alister, with him riding so close by. Matters were complicated enough. “You were talking about Mother. How it’s my fault she’s dead.”
Mellony didn’t speak for a long moment, until Raisa began to wonder whether she would answer at all. “Mother was brokenhearted when you left,” Mellony said finally. “She blamed herself. She thought she should have seen it coming and somehow prevented it. She barely ate or slept, and she grew thin and weepy.” Mellony looked over at Raisa. “So we were all miserable and worried while you enjoyed yourself in Oden’s Ford.”
“Enjoyed myself? Do you know how hard I was working?” As Raisa said it, she knew she was being dishonest. Despite everything, she had enjoyed herself.
Mellony rolled her eyes. “You’re a fiend for hard work, and you know it,” she said. “You always had to work harder than anyone else, whether it was schoolwork or hunting or—or anything. You always had to make everyone else look bad.”
Everyone else, no doubt, meant Mellony.
It was time to tell the truth. “Did Mother tell you why I left?” Raisa said, leaning close to her sister.
Mellony nodded. “She said you had a crush on Corporal Byrne.” She jerked her chin toward Amon, riding just ahead. “Mother said you ran off when she insisted you marry someone else.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “And Corporal Byrne was at Oden’s Ford, too. Wasn’t that convenient?”
“That’s not true,” Raisa hissed, stung. “I did not run away to be with Amon Byrne.”
“Really?” Mellony raised her eyebrow. “Are you calling Mother a liar?”
Raisa pressed her lips together to keep any more words from spilling out. She didn’t want to speak ill of the dead. And yet she wanted to honor Mellony with the truth. She was tired of lies, tired of the awkwardness and suspicion between them.
“You never seemed interested in getting married anyway,” Mellony persisted. “You always said you wanted to kiss a lot of boys before you narrowed down to one.”
Well, yes. Raisa had said that.
“I’m not saying Mother was a liar,” Raisa said diplomatically. “I’m saying she did not tell you all of the truth. Yes, I left when she insisted I marry someone else. Do you know who that someone was?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Mellony said, facing forward as if she somehow knew that she wouldn’t want to hear what Raisa had to say. “You left, and Mother died.” She slammed her heels into her pony’s sides, meaning
to ride forward and away, but Raisa caught hold of her horse’s bridle.
“It was Micah Bayar,” Raisa said. “She wanted me to marry Micah Bayar.”
Mellony shook her head, slinging water all around. “No,” she said. “That’s not possible.”
“It is possible because it’s true,” Raisa said.
“No,” Mellony repeated. “Micah would never—”
“Micah was willing,” Raisa said. “I was not.”
Mellony stared at her, tears pooling in her blue eyes. “I don’t believe you,” she said, and wrenched her horse away, spurring him forward until she was beyond the range of easy conversation.
Well, Raisa thought, so much for clearing the air.
Someone must have sent a bird to Fellsmarch, or maybe riders with fresh horses had outpaced them to the capital, wanting to be the first to announce the news of Raisa’s return. Or maybe Cat Tyburn had arranged this reception, too. However it happened, the news had preceded them, so that when they entered the capital, the Way of the Queens was lined with people on both sides, cheering and waving scarves and kerchiefs.
Although the Way was broad, the crowds surged in close, reaching out to touch their returning princess. The Guard tightened its perimeter, and Amon and Han took up positions on either side of Raisa, using their horses to keep anyone from coming too close while the Queen’s Guard forced a path forward toward the castle close.
To Raisa’s embarrassment, some in the mob of people cursed and jostled the Demonai, calling them copperheads, baby stealers, and worse. They weren’t used to seeing clan in numbers in the city.
Sweet Lady in chains, Raisa thought. Somehow I have to bring all my peoples together—wizards, Valefolk, clans. We spend too much energy fighting with each other. It makes us vulnerable.
Speaking of vulnerable. She thrust her finger into the pouch at her waist, pulled out the wolf ring talisman, and slid it once more onto her finger. It seemed unlikely there would be any wizard attacks between here and home, but still. It made her feel safer to have it on.
Ahead, Raisa could see the glittering towers of Fellsmarch Castle poking above the buildings, a sight that tugged at her heart. So much had happened since she’d last seen them. She pounded down regret like bread dough before its second rising. Learn from it, she thought, but don’t waste energy on what cannot be changed.
And it was good to be home. She looked about, drinking in the details she’d missed for so long—the twisting side streets, the steps built into the alleys that climbed the slopes in the outer city, the northern accents clamoring around her, and, yes, the stink of cabbage cooking and wood fires and the filth that ran in the gutters.
She took a deep breath and let it out, allowing her shoulders to slump a bit in relief, already looking forward to a hot bath and good northern food. As she did so, she caught a flicker of movement on the roof of a building ahead. A dark silhouette rose into view, its motion fluid and sinuous. It stilled itself, taking careful aim. Instinct caused her to shift sideways and down, to present a narrower target. She opened her mouth to shout a warning.
Amon swore and lunged toward her as something like a fist slammed into her right chest, nearly unseating her and bringing tears to her eyes.
Bedlam ensued. Before Raisa knew what was happening, Amon had scooped her from her saddle, cradling her close and leaning over her so that his body covered hers.
“Make way!” he roared, in a hoarse, unfamiliar voice, urging his horse into a gallop, willing to ride down any fool who didn’t get out of his path.
Bricks and tiles flew as a blast of wizard flash hit the roof where the archer had been. It was Han Alister, discouraging any second attempts.
“Mellony!” Raisa gasped. “See to my sister’s safety.”
She saw flickers of blue to either side, breathed in the acrid scent of wizard flame, heard shouted orders and the twang of longbows. They thundered into the broader, straighter streets near the castle, through the gate that led into the castle close.
Still, Amon did not slow. Raisa could smell the moat and hear the hollow rattle of hooves over wood as they crossed the drawbridge at a dead run. They passed under the portcullis and into the interior courtyard of Fellsmarch Castle.
The portcullis slammed down behind them.
She was home.
She raised her head, twisting around so she could see. The courtyard was packed with blue-jacketed guards and rearing horses. To her relief, she saw Mellony, still astride her pony, led by Mick Bricker. She looked pale as parchment, but apparently unhurt.
Han and his friend Fire Dancer planted themselves in the arch leading to the drawbridge, gripping their amulets like they might have to fight off raging hordes of assassins.
“Call a healer!” Amon bellowed, right into Raisa’s ear. “The princess heir’s been shot.”
Raisa ran her fingers over the plate armor just below her collarbone. It was badly dented and pierced partway through, but had held against the assassin’s arrow, if that’s what it was. The missile must have fallen away in the street.
Raisa attempted to squirm free of Amon’s grip. “Really, Amon, I don’t think I’m—”
A familiar voice broke into her protest. “Captain Byrne! Give her to me!”
It was Magret Gray, who’d already dismounted and shed her rain-drenched cloak. Magret opened her arms and Amon lowered Raisa down into them. Raisa looked up into Magret’s familiar face, streaming with tears, etched with new lines of pain.
Were they new, or had she just never noticed?
Magret’s hair was grayer than before, caught into its customary thick braid that extended nearly to her waist. When Raisa was a toddler she used to cling to that braid and suck her thumb when she needed consoling.
Mellony’s face came into view at Raisa’s elbow, tear-stained and terror-stricken. “Raisa,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t die too.”
“I’m not planning on it, not any time soon,” Raisa said. “Magret. Please set me down. I’m fine, just bruised is all.”
But Magret’s grip was as difficult to break as Amon’s.
“Let’s get her into the keep,” Amon said. “Kiefer, I want a dozen guards on the door. Talia, get over to the Healer’s Hall and bring Lord Vega on the double. Mick and Hallie, take a triple and go out and see if you can track down the archers. But be careful.”
Guards took off in all directions, an explosion of blue uniforms.
“I’ll help,” Averill said, his eyes brilliant with anger. “I know the streets.”
“No.” Amon shook his head. “Depending on who’s behind this, you might be a target yourself. I’d like to keep you close for now.”
Averill opened his mouth to protest, but Nightwalker said, “I’ll go, Lightfoot. My warriors will be just outside the close and I know the streets as well as you do.”
“The archer who shot me was on the roof of Kendall House,” Raisa told him. “The arrow might be lying in the street near where I was hit. That might tell us something.”
Nightwalker nodded, his face grim and determined. “We’ll find them, Your Highness.” He slipped past Han and Dancer, disappearing through the archway into the growing dusk.
Magret strode toward the keep, still carrying Raisa in her arms.
“Magret. Set me down,” Raisa said, exasperated. “Please believe me when I say I’m just bruised. I’ve been shot before, and I know the difference.”
At that, Han swung around to look at her, his mouth twitching with amusement and relief. It was the first genuine smile she’d seen on him in a long while, overlaying a face haggard with worry.
“Byrne, we need to do a better job of protecting the queen,” he said. “Before we know it, she’ll be showing off old battle scars to her ladies whenever she’s in her cups. It won’t help our reputations any.”
Amon nodded without smiling. “I agree. We need to do a better job, and we will.” He turned to Raisa. “Humor me, Your Highness,” he said, stubborn as ever.
He nodded to Magret. “Take her inside.”
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S I X
AGREEING TO
DISAGREE
There was no saying no to Magret Gray. The former nurse carried Raisa into one of the salons on the first floor of the palace. There she removed Raisa’s armor and padding, stripping her to her camisole, and put her down on her back on one of the couches, under a blanket. She pressed an icy cloth against the purpling bruise above Raisa’s right breast.
The court healer, Harriman Vega, a wizard, arrived with four assistants. Han Alister followed them in and stood next to Raisa, arms crossed.
Lord Vega scowled at Han. “Wait outside, please, while we examine Her Highness,” he said in a high, supercilious voice.
Han shook his head. “I’m staying,” he said, immovable as stone. “After what’s happened, Captain Byrne isn’t in a trusting mood. I promised him I wouldn’t leave her side.”
And he trusts you? Raisa thought. That’s different.
Magret stood, hands on hips, giving Han a look of undiluted hostility.
“Your Highness, please,” Lord Vega said. “Surely you don’t want this young man looking on while we—”
“He stays,” Raisa said, with a sigh. I might as well get used to having no privacy at all, she thought.
Still, her cheeks burned as Lord Vega undid the cord at her neckline and pulled down her camisole. The wizard healer tried to keep his body between Han and Raisa, but Han moved enough to make sure he could see the healer’s hands and hear what charms he spoke. His face was again as unreadable as one of the stone faces of Hanalea.
Vega and his assistants all had to take a look.
“As you can see,” the wizard said to his assistants, still trying to block Han’s view, “the arrow did not pierce the skin, so even if it were a poison daub, there is no danger to the queen’s life. The armor apparently stopped the projectile, although the force of the blow has caused considerable bruising.” He looked up at Raisa. “Was the arrow launched from close range?”
The Seven Realms- The Complete Series Page 119