Make them think you hate me, he’d said. She wasn’t sure she could pull that off. But maybe she could introduce some doubt.
“Look,” she said. “Alister won’t be a problem if you let me handle this my own way. I’m juggling a lot of competing interests right now. Putting him on the council was part of a larger bargain—the least of evils. It was the price I had to pay for a bit of peace.”
“I knew it!” Micah said, pounding his fist into his palm. “Who’s backing him? Who’s he working for? Abelard?”
Raisa shook her head. “I’m not going to discuss this any further. I’ve said too much already. Now, if there’s nothing else…?” She made as if to rise.
Micah held up his hand to stay her. “I’ve already admitted that I wish you had named Fiona to the council instead,” he said. “But that is not what this is all about. That is not why we are holding this conversation. I’m just trying to give you some helpful advice. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want that on my conscience.” His face was parchment pale, his black eyes bright and hard as obsidian.
Raisa leaned forward. “Micah, if you know of some threat to the Gray Wolf line, it is your duty to tell me. Or prevent it. Or bring it to the Queen’s Guard.”
Micah shook his head, released a sigh, and stood, lips tight, his face hard and bleak. “You really don’t understand, do you?” he said in a low, bitter voice. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do—keep you alive. I’ve risked everything for you—my family and my future. All you need to do is show a bit of…flexibility. But, no. You’ll get yourself killed, and there is nothing I can do about it.”
Raisa shivered, her jacket no longer sufficient to keep her warm. There had been—what—four or five attempts on her life since Lord Bayar’s assassins came to Oden’s Ford? How long before somebody succeeded?
Beyond Micah, in the shadowy garden, gray shapes milled and circled, their eyes catching the torchlight, reflecting it back like temple candles.
A turning point. A critical choice. But what is the right one?
Micah might be here on his father’s orders. He might have come to persuade her to reverse her decision and name Fiona to the council. He might be trying to frighten her into doing the bidding of the Wizard Council. He might hope to fool her into receiving him as a suitor.
All of those things might be true, but Micah had saved her life more than once. For whatever reason, he seemed to have an interest in keeping her alive.
She’d been impatient, and lost her temper with the Queen’s Council. It might feel good to antagonize Lord Bayar, but she could pay a high price. She needed to better cement her position before she made any more enemies.
She considered the cost of playing the game. She wouldn’t swap Fiona for Han Alister on the Wizard Council. She didn’t want three Bayars on the council, and she’d given her word to Han.
“Thank you for your time, Your Highness,” Micah said, interrupting her mental debate. “Good evening.” He turned to leave.
“Wait,” Raisa said, pushing to her feet.
He half turned and stood waiting.
There was one thing she could do—a calculated decision in a situation that demanded a cold heart and a clear head. Something that might stay any action against her long enough for her to build her own defenses.
“You have persuaded me, Micah,” Raisa said. “To this degree—if you are truly worried about my safety, you may tell your family that I have agreed to allow you to court me—with discretion. That I am guardedly receptive to your overtures. I will do my best not to contradict that story in public. But I’m not making any promises beyond that.”
He inclined his head, his face expressionless.
“We cannot wave it like a bloody flag in front of the Spirit clans. And given your history, I’m sure you understand why I cannot risk being alone with you.”
“I accept those terms,” Micah said. “But I’m giving you fair warning—I will do my best to change your mind.”
“I’m giving you fair warning—sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose between me and your father. Whatever happens between us, you’ll have to decide where your ultimate loyalty lies.”
“I have already decided, Your Highness.” Micah bowed, then turned and walked away, losing himself in the shadows.
Raisa stood, looking after him, wondering if she’d made the right move. Would she be able to convince Lord Bayar that she’d accepted Micah as a suitor, hide that from the clans, and still keep him at a distance?
Would she be strong enough to keep him at a distance?
Back in the palace, Raisa found Han Alister waiting at the door to her room, chatting with the bluejackets stationed there. Cat Tyburn was with him, but Raisa wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t thrown back her head and laughed her throaty laugh just as Raisa arrived.
Cat was wearing a dress—had Raisa ever seen her in a dress?—flouncy and in a deep apricot that set off her dark skin. Bangles graced both wrists, and her hair was raked back into a twist. Her lips were rouged dark as black raspberries.
Raisa and her entourage skidded to a halt in front of the door.
Han bowed, and Cat managed a curtsy. “Your Highness,” Han said. “Lady Tyburn and I hope you can spare a few moments.” He tilted his head toward her door. “In private?”
“L—Lady Tyburn?” Raisa squinted suspiciously at the two of them. “Well—a few moments, I suppose,” she said. “I had some reading to do before supper.”
They followed her into her privy chamber and waited until Mick closed the door behind them.
Magret emerged from Raisa’s bedchamber. “Your Highness, I expected you back sooner. I wondered if you wanted to bathe before…” Her voice trailed off as she set eyes on Han and Cat. Her lips tightened into a hard line.
“I’ll bathe after dinner, thank you,” Raisa said, poking through the envelopes on the tray inside the door. “You can be at leisure until then.”
“I don’t mind staying, my lady,” Magret said, raising her eyebrows extravagantly. “You might need something, or perhaps your—guests—might need some refreshment.”
“They won’t be staying that long,” Raisa said. “They won’t need entertaining.”
Magret folded her arms. “Maybe it’s not my place, but it just isn’t safe to be in here alone with—”
“You are dismissed, Magret,” Raisa said firmly. “I will see you after my late meeting.”
Magret stalked out, muttering something that sounded like, “Jinxflingers and thieves. A queendom at her feet, and she consorts with jinxflingers and thieves.”
At least she was too well bred to slam the door behind her.
Well, Raisa thought, Micah Bayar was right about one thing—Han Alister has no support from anyone.
“Hah!” Cat said, looking after Magret. “Most people don’t hate me until they get to know me.”
“That’s Velvet’s aunt, Maiden Magret Gray,” Han said. “She blames me for what happened to him.”
“That old fustiluggs is aunt to Velvet?” Cat rolled her eyes.
Raisa dropped into a chair, suddenly exhausted and feeling besieged. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”
“Cat wants to apply for a job,” Han said, giving Cat a nudge forward. “Don’t you?”
“A job? What kind of job?” Raisa looked from Cat to Han.
Cat curtsied again, her eyes downcast. “If you please, ma’am,” she said, “I’d like to be taken on as your chambermaid.”
“You? A chambermaid?” Raisa said, astonished. “Ah—are you—are you qualified?”
“Ma’am, I spent a year at the Temple School at Oden’s Ford,” Cat said. “And before that, I was at Southbridge Temple School, off an’ on. Speaker Jemson, he’ll give a reference. He was the one wanted me to go to Oden’s Ford, so I could get on as a lady’s maid. I can get references from the Ford, only that might take a while.”
“Well. Um. That’s impressive,” Raisa said. “B
ut I don’t usually do the hiring for—”
“If you like music, I’m a rum player on the basilka,” Cat rushed on. “Also the harpsichord, mandolin, the lute, and recorder. And I can sing some, too.”
“Cat, it certainly sounds like you are talented—”
“Catarina,” Cat said. “That’s my given name. It goes better with the job.”
“—but there is considerable competition for these kinds of positions,” Raisa went on. “My servants usually come to me with experience as a lady’s maid. Why should I hire you instead?”
“Well. I know I would need training in that part,” Cat said. “I know you likely don’t hire maids from Ragmarket. Not directly, anyway.”
“But Lady Tyburn has other talents,” Han prompted, raising his eyebrows at Cat.
“You be quiet,” Raisa said to Han. She looked at Cat. “Whose idea was this?” she demanded. “Yours or his?”
“Well, Cuffs, he asked me to apply,” Cat said. “And I thought, well it makes sense. Even if it’s a wizard comes after you, blades are quicker than jinxes.”
“What?” Raisa’s head was beginning to ache.
“See, I’m the best knife-fighter in the city, now Shiv Connor’s dead,” Cat said. Long wicked blades materialized in each of her hands. “You can ask anyone.”
“We thought Catarina could be both chambermaid and bodyguard,” Han said. “Two for the price of one.”
“How many bodyguards does a body need?” Raisa said, rubbing her temples. “I’ve got bodyguards stumbling all over each other.”
“We need somebody inside your room,” Han said. “After what happened to Talia and Trey, I’m thinking a guard outside your door isn’t enough. I can’t always be right next door. And, so far, all of the attempts on your life have been with conventional means. Knives and swords and strangle-cords.”
“I want to hear from Catarina,” Raisa said, waving a hand to hush Han. “Why should I hire you?”
“Well.” Cat poked at the twist on the back of her head, tucking in a curl. “You have the bluejackets as bodyguards, I know. And Cuffs. But I think you need another blade up your sleeve. Someone who has connections all over the city. Somebody who has an ear to the ground and knows who’s hiring bravos and who’s to be hushed. Somebody that won’t stick out in the streets.” Cat cocked her head. “But that person’s got to be able to come and go inside the palace, too. And talk to all kinds of people. And do things on the quiet that maybe you don’t want folks to know about.”
Raisa frowned. “Such as?”
Cat dug the toe of her fancy slipper into the carpet. “Spying and filching where it does the most good, second-story work if need be, putting a bribe into the right pocket or a word in the right ear at the right time.” She looked into Raisa’s eyes. “You probably don’t like the idea of doing things on the down low,” she said. “But that’s the turf you’re walking right now. You got enemies that’ll do whatever it takes to win. You got to have weapons of your own.”
Raisa ran her fingers through her hair. “Unlike my enemies, I won’t do whatever it takes to win. I’m not looking to hire an assassin or thug.”
“I’m thinking more like spymaster,” Cat said.
“Cat was the one that roused all of Ragmarket and Southbridge to come to the queen’s funeral,” Han said. “She had two days to do it.”
“How old are you, Catarina?” Raisa asked.
Cat shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m past my name day, though,” she added, folding her arms and gripping her elbows to either side. “I’m sure of that.”
“She knows who you’re up against,” Han said, seeming to understand where Raisa was going with this. “And she’s older than her years.”
“It would be a great favor to me if you’d take me on,” Cat said, drawing her brows together as she concentrated on her speech. “It would do me good to spend more time with quality. It would help me learn about manners, politics, and such.”
“Signing on for this role is a good way to get yourself killed,” Raisa said, the memory of Talia and Trey fresh in her mind. “If you want to leave the streets I can put in a word that will get you a position with almost any noble family in the Fells. You’re smart. Given a little more polish, you’ll move up quickly.”
“That’s not what I want,” Cat said stubbornly.
“She has her own reasons for wanting to help,” Han said. “If you say no, I’ll find other jobs for her to do. Likely more dangerous than this.”
Raisa debated. Why was Han so keen on placing his former girlfriend in her rooms? There were so many possibilities. Was it really to prevent attacks by assassins? Or would Cat serve as a barrier to keep the two of them—Han and Raisa—apart?
Would it allow him to keep better track of Raisa’s movements while permitting him more freedom to come and go as he pleased?
She looked at Han, who stood, head cocked for her answer, absently rubbing his right wrist where the cuff used to be. His face gave her no clues.
Did she really want Cat Tyburn looking over her shoulder during her rare moments of solitude? Maybe. If it helped her stay alive.
“All right,” Raisa said. “We’ll give it a try.”
C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - T W O
FOR THE GOOD
OF THE LINE
After three weeks on the job as Raisa’s chambermaid, Catarina Tyburn still rattled around Raisa’s suite like a pair of chicken-bone dice in a velvet bag. She was never still—always poking her head into the closet to make sure no one was creeping out of the tunnel, staring out the windows to spot assassins hiding in the gardens, reconnoitering with the guards in the hallway to establish that they were still alive and on guard. Her constant motion set Raisa’s teeth on edge, but she knew how hard Cat was trying, and managed to restrain herself.
The maidservant part of the job went mostly neglected unless Raisa asked her to do something specific. Cat simply had no clue what the job entailed. Magret Gray caught things up when Cat was away, and she never missed an opportunity to point out the novice maid’s shortcomings.
For instance, one morning, Cat brought out the dress Raisa meant to wear to a reception for the Guard and left it draped over a chair. When Magret arrived, she arranged it on Raisa’s dress form and circled around it, hands on hips, muttering to herself.
Raisa tried to concentrate on her book, but Magret’s grumbling grew louder and louder as she took a brush to the skirt.
“I’ll try the steamer, but I don’t know if I can get these wrinkles out by tonight. It’s a disgrace, sending the queen of the realm out in something that looks like it was stuffed in a drawer or crumpled up on the floor. In my day, servants took pride in the appearance of their ladies.” And so on.
Raisa put a finger in her book to mark her place. “Magret? Is there something you want to tell me?” she said.
“No, ma’am.” Magret continued to brush at the velvet. “Never you mind. I’ll do my best to sort this out.”
“Do you have concerns about my new chambermaid?” Raisa persisted.
Magret swung around to face Raisa, her hands on her formidable hips. “Your Highness, I’m wondering why she’s here, and so is everybody else. Some of us come from Ragmarket, aye, but we take the long way here, working our way up with hopes of one day serving the queen and her family. All the servants are buzzing about it, but they are afraid to say anything to her for fear she’ll cut their throats.”
“Really?” Raisa said in a deceptively calm voice. “Since when is it the role of my servants to dither and debate over my choice of employees?”
Magret sniffed. “It’s our role to look after you, ma’am, as best we can. We want to see you well served. And it’s more work for the rest of us when she doesn’t do her job proper.”
“She came recommended,” Raisa said. “Maybe she has some rough edges, but—”
“Who recommended her?” Magret burst out. “That blue-eyed devil lives next door? Oh, he’s a handsome one, and
he dresses up nice, but that doesn’t change who he is. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Your Highness. Like he’s hungry and you’re dinner.”
Raisa’s cheeks heated as the blood rushed to her face. She came to her feet, fists clenched at her side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.
“I know all about Cuffs Alister,” Magret went on. “He used to take his pick of girlies in Ragmarket, breaking hearts all around. Ladies and laundresses, it didn’t matter. Why, I’ve heard stories of how—”
“Magret, Han Alister saved my life,” Raisa said stiffly, resisting the temptation to put her hands over her ears. “And nearly lost his own to do it. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I can never repay.”
“Well, he’ll make you pay,” Magret says. “Mark my words. That one never does anything without weighing out the gold and figuring shares.”
“All right, you’ve warned me,” Raisa said. “Now that subject is closed. Let’s discuss Cat…arina. You are absolutely right. She does need training.” She paused, for a heartbeat. “I want you to do it.”
“Me?” Magret looked horrified. “Oh, no, Your Highness, I couldn’t—”
“I’m promoting you. I’m naming you Mistress of the Queen’s Bedchamber,” Raisa said. “You’ll supervise my personal servants and be responsible for teaching them what they need to know to be the best they can be.”
Magret pressed her lips together so whatever she was thinking wouldn’t spill out. It wasn’t hard to make a guess, though.
Raisa touched Magret’s arm. “I am aware of Catarina’s shortcomings as a chambermaid. She will never be a stellar servant—that’s not what I’m looking for—but she can be improved. I’m asking you to trust me on this and do the best you can. Will you do it?”
Magret gazed at Raisa for a long moment, then nodded grudgingly. She opened her mouth to say something else, when someone tapped at the door.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Magret went to the door.
It was Amon. Raisa could see his tall frame in the doorway beyond Magret’s broad back.
Amon had asked for an audience with her. Several times. And Raisa had put him off. Her instincts told her that any formal audience with Amon wouldn’t bring good news.
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