The Seven Realms- The Complete Series

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Right, Raisa thought. Hanalea took a chance, and see where it got her.

  “Who told you that?” Raisa said. “I never heard that story.” She shivered again, as if ghosts were stroking her shoulders with their cold fingers.

  “Some stories don’t get told these days,” Han said, allowing a subtle warmth to flow between them. He stroked her hair, brushing his fingers along the back of her neck, raising gooseflesh.

  You’re not making this any easier, she thought.

  After another long pause, he added, “You don’t have to do it, you know.”

  “What?” Raisa turned her head to look at him.

  “You don’t have to go through with it. You don’t have to be queen. You can be whoever you want.” For once, his face was dead serious.

  “What do you mean?” Raisa said, swiping at her nose. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice,” Han said. “Take me, for instance. I can be anything I want if I want it badly enough. If I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

  “Really.” Raisa raised an eyebrow. He made it sound so simple. “What happens to the Fells if I bow out?”

  “Nobody is irreplaceable,” Han said.

  “How long do you think I would last if I relinquished the crown?” Raisa said. “I’d be a constant thorn in the side of whoever came to power—even if it were Mellony. I would be a rallying point for rebellion—more of a target than I am now.”

  “You don’t have to stay here. That’s why they call it the Seven Realms.” He reached over, covered her hand with his free hand, as if to increase the points of connection between them. “And there’s always Carthis if you want to get even farther away.”

  “What in blazes would I do in Carthis?” Raisa growled. “And why would I want to go there?”

  Han laughed softly. “I’m convinced that you would land on your feet, Your Highness. You’d likely be running the place before long.”

  “I don’t know anybody in Carthis,” Raisa said.

  He took a breath, then forged ahead. “I could come with you. I would help you—however you wanted.”

  Raisa looked up, surprised. Han’s blue eyes met hers—intense, focused, with no evidence of mockery.

  The offer sat awkwardly between them. What did he mean? What was he proposing? That she run off with him? He hadn’t come out and said that, but…did he feel as she did—that her coronation as queen would end any chance they could be together?

  “If I have to be running things, I might as well do it here.” Raisa massaged her forehead. How could she explain it to him—the ties she felt to these mountains, to this small, imperfect queendom with its constantly squabbling tribes?

  Raisa wanted to be here when the sun poured over the eastern escarpment in the morning and flooded the City of Light. She wanted to be here in the spring when the Dyrnnewater escaped from its banks, fed by the melting snows high in the Spirits. She wanted to see the aspens glittering on the slopes of Hanalea, to ride bareback in clan leggings and shirt through the slanting autumn sunlight. She wanted to eat high country blackberries in summer until the juice dribbled down her chin, and dance clan dances until her heart clamored and her feet stung.

  Being away from the Fells had only reinforced her love of home. As did the choice he was asking her to make.

  She looked up at Han, groping for something to say, but he shook his head. “Never mind, Your Highness. I never thought you’d run away from…from all this.” He waved his hand, taking in the palace, the city below. “You’re not the sort. I just thought it might help you figure out what you do want. What you’re willing to fight for. What you’ll give up in trade.”

  “You can’t have everything,” she said.

  “I can. And I will. I will find a way,” Han said, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. His usual streetlord confidence had drained away.

  She put her hand on his arm, looking into his eyes. “I hope you will…continue to be my friend,” she said. “I hope that you won’t let rank and ceremony come between us.”

  The expression on his face said, It already has.

  Raisa’s heart seemed to seize in her chest. What if he went away? What if he turned against her? What if this was—what did he call it—a take-or-leave offer? How would she survive?

  I can be anything I want, he’d said.

  “I have something for you,” he said, breaking into her panicky thoughts. “A present. That’s actually why I came.”

  “A present?” She blinked at him, taken by surprise.

  He thrust a small deerskin bag toward her, almost like he was embarrassed.

  Unlike Micah, Han was not the present-buying sort. Though he had bought her flowers once, in Oden’s Ford, when he’d been late for a tutoring session and knew she’d be angry.

  Likely, growing up, he’d never had the money for presents.

  “It’s for your coronation,” Han said. “Dancer made it, so in a way, it’s from both of us.”

  “But he already made me that beautiful armor,” Raisa objected. “That was more than enough.”

  Han cleared his throat. “All right. It’s just from me, then.”

  She weighed the pouch on her palm. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “Why not? Everyone else did.” He looked down at his hands. “The Bayars have sent you enough glitterbits to fill a stall at the market.”

  Raisa tugged at the drawstring, forcing her finger into the opening. She dumped the contents of the pouch into her hand.

  It was a ring in white gold set with moonstones, pearls, and sapphires.

  “Oh!” she breathed. “It’s beautiful. Whatever made you think of it?”

  “It’s modeled after a ring that belonged to Hanalea,” Han said. “It was—it was a favorite of hers, I guess.” He hesitated, as if he would say more, but decided against it.

  Raisa tried it on. It seemed to fit her ring finger best, which was good because she wore the wolf ring on her forefinger. She turned her hand this way and that, so that the stones caught the moonlight.

  She knew she shouldn’t accept it—it was too personal and costly a gift. And yet…

  The shadows under the trees shifted and swam with gray bodies, brilliant eyes, razor-sharp teeth.

  Raisa shuddered, as if someone had walked over her grave. “I never knew Hanalea owned a ring like this,” she said. “How did you happen to hear about it?”

  “I—ah—I spoke to someone who is kind of an expert on Hanalea, and he described it to me,” Han said. “This is what Dancer came up with.” He paused, and when Raisa said nothing, he added, “If it doesn’t fit, he says he can resize it.”

  “No, it’s fine, it seems to fit as it is,” Raisa said. “Thank you.”

  “Just don’t tell anyone who gave it to you,” Han said. “If you—if you decide to wear it, I mean.”

  “I will wear it.” She tilted her face up toward him. “I will cherish it. I just wish…I just wish we…”

  As if to stop her words, Han pulled her toward him, pressing his lips down on hers so hard it took her breath away. Power channeled through her, undirected but potent, making her head swim. The wolf ring on her finger grew hot as it drew the power in.

  Raisa wrapped her arms around his neck, molding her body to his, aware of the friction between them. Winding her fingers into his hair, she thought, I won’t give him up, I won’t. I. Will. Not.

  But then Han straightened his arms, breaking off the kiss and pulling away from her. He looked down into her face, his breath coming shallow and quick, his eyes a fierce reflection of some kind of struggle within.

  He threw his head back, the column of his throat jumping as he swallowed. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, he looked down at her again.

  “Nearly all my life I’ve taken what I wanted, when I wanted it, with no thought for the future, since I wasn’t likely to have one,” Han said. “Do you know how hard this is for me? Do you?” He gave her a little shake like it
was her fault.

  “Listen,” she whispered, sliding her palm along his cheek, cupping it under his chin. “It doesn’t matter if we cannot marry. We can still be together—when we can—even if I make a political marriage to someone else.”

  I cannot believe I’m saying this, Raisa thought. I truly am turning into my mother.

  But Han Alister was shaking his head, his face a mask of regret.

  “I want to be with you!” Raisa’s voice broke on the words she’d been unable to say back at Marisa Pines. “I don’t want to lose you. Why can’t we have something even if we can’t have it all?”

  “Because I won’t share you with anyone else,” Han said. “I won’t be your down-low lover. It’s all or nothing, Your Highness. I won’t settle for less.”

  “I have to settle,” Raisa muttered. “Why can’t you?”

  He kissed her again, this time long and slow, savoring it. Then came gracefully to his feet.

  “You’d better go to bed,” he said, extending a hand to help her up. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

  He waited until she reached the top of the staircase, then turned and disappeared into the darkness.

  Giving up on meditation, Raisa went to bed, but it was a long time before she slept.

  C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - F I V E

  A BAD BARGAIN

  The coronation of a Gray Wolf queen was a two-day affair. On the morning after Raisa met with Han in the glass garden, she endured an entire morning of highly ceremonial meetings with her subjects and allies called the Greeting of the Witnesses.

  Prior to the splintering of the Seven Realms, it had been customary for representatives from each of the realms to bring tribute to the capital of Fellsmarch to honor the soon-to-be queen.

  These days it was just a tradition, though everyone in attendance still brought a small token gift for Raisa.

  All morning long, she was acutely conscious of Han standing just behind and to one side of her throne, his face as unreadable as any ceremonial mask. The words that had passed between them the night before hung heavily in the air, distracting her.

  Truth be told, even after everything he’d said, she’d been relieved to see he hadn’t departed during the night, seeking a less complicated, less dangerous future.

  Raisa wore the ring he’d given her as a coronation gift. She was sure he noticed it, though he said nothing about it.

  One foreign visitor Raisa was pleased to see was Dimitri Fenwaeter, lord of the Waterwalkers, whom Raisa had met in the Shivering Fens on her way to Oden’s Ford.

  Then, Dimitri had been new to his position, after his father was killed by soldiers from the Fells.

  Dimitri had grown taller and filled out in the year since she’d last seen him, and he had a new confidence about him. He’d brought her a linen marsh cloak, embroidered with leaves and ferns in subtle mist colors.

  To put a fine point on it, Raisa was still Dimitri’s liege lady, as the Shivering Fens was still ruled by the Fells.

  “I hope things are well along our border,” she said in Common, smiling and stroking the fine linen.

  “I would let you know if they were not, Your Highness,” Dimitri said solemnly. “The new commander at the West Wall is a woman, but she is surprisingly fair and easy to deal with.” He was teasing her.

  “Perhaps she is fair and easy to deal with because she is a woman,” Raisa replied.

  Dimitri laughed. “You may be right,” he said. “Speaking of fair, I have not forgotten that you owe me gylden,” he said. “You also promised to send me a clean river.”

  “I’m working on it,” Raisa said with a sigh. “Let’s talk again after the coronation, before you go back home.”

  When Raisa returned to her rooms, Magret helped her strip off her formal coronation clothing. She lay down on her bed in her cami and drawers, meaning to take a nap before dinner. She hadn’t slept much the night before, thanks to Han Alister, and she needed some rest if she hoped to keep her face out of her plate that evening.

  She was just drifting into sleep when a knock rattled the door. Cat came and stood guard at the foot of her bed, while Magret rushed to answer, grumbling under her breath. After a few minutes of whispered conversation, she shut the door and returned to Raisa’s bedside, her face a thundercloud of disapproval.

  Raisa propped up on her elbows. “What is it, Magret?”

  “There’s a messenger from Lord Hakkam outside. He says the king of Arden has finally arrived.” Magret sniffed, to show what she thought of disrespectful, tardy kings. “He and his party are at Regent House and he’ll be joining you for dinner. He’s requesting a brief audience with you before dinner so he can offer his congratulations in person since he missed the ceremony this morning.”

  There goes nap time, Raisa thought. I don’t like King Geoff already.

  Reading Raisa’s expression, Magret said, “Your Highness, I’ll say you’re resting, and the flatlander king will just have to wait until dinner.”

  Raisa shook her head wearily. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet didn’t even touch the floor.

  “No, I want to get the measure of the man, and that will be impossible to do at dinner, or at the ball after. And I don’t want to be meeting with him at midnight.” She yawned. “Will the queen of Arden be at dinner?”

  Magret shrugged, frowning. “I’ll find out. There was no mention of her.”

  Raisa sent word to the dining steward to rearrange the seating protocol. Magret helped her into the gown she’d chosen for dinner and the ball after. She brushed out Raisa’s hair and kept Cat on the run fetching and carrying jewelry and brushes and paint and powder. In a spare moment, Cat slid into the red satin dress she’d been saving for the dance. It was sliced high on both sides to afford freedom of movement. Raisa knew her maidservant/bodyguard would have blades hidden beneath the satin, though Raisa couldn’t fathom where.

  Raisa decided she’d like more eyes and ears when the king came to call. “Fetch Lord Alister from next door, if he’s there,” she said to Cat.

  “Lord Alister?” Cat grinned and curtsied. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and flounced out.

  Magret sniffed. “Lord Alister? You can dress him up in silks and satins, but you’ll never—”

  “Hush, Magret,” Raisa said. She poked her head out the door, bringing Pearlie Greenholt to full attention. “Can you send word to Captain Byrne that I’m receiving the king of Arden in my sitting room and I would like him to be present?”

  And then she thought, Is it even proper to receive a king in your sitting room? Likely not, but state visits had been few and far between when Marianna was queen, so Raisa didn’t have much to go by. Plus, it was his own fault for showing up unexpectedly.

  Cat returned in a few moments with Han in tow. Raisa suspected he had been trying to catch some sleep also, since he was a bit rumple-haired and yawning and he’d missed fastening one of the buttons on his jacket. Amon came soon after and stood against the wall, his uniform perfect as always. He’d been at attention all day, it seemed.

  Raisa settled herself into a chair, spreading her full skirts around her. The chair was on a small riser, which gave her a little height over the rest of the room. They waited. Finally, a commotion in the hallway said the king of Arden and his entourage had arrived.

  Raisa’s uncle, Lord Hakkam, entered, bowing and wringing his hands. He seemed unaccountably nervous. “Your Highness,” he said, his broad forehead gleaming with sweat, “the king of Arden asks permission to bring his guard in with him.”

  “Tell the king of Arden no, he cannot bring his guard in with him,” Raisa said acidly. “The Fells may seem an uncivilized and dangerous place, but surely no more dangerous than Arden has been.”

  “Yes, Your High—Your Majesty,” Hakkam said. “I just want you to know that I—I never realized that—I was as surprised as you at—at what had happened. It was never my intention to keep anything from you. When he—when the king arrived, I
sent a messenger to you immediately. I hope you realize that I only have your best interests—and those of the queendom at heart.”

  Raisa stared at him. Is it because I’m still half asleep, or is this man not making sense at all? Or is guilt making him stumble-tongued?

  If she hadn’t been half asleep, perhaps she would have asked more questions.

  “Let’s just get it over with,” Raisa said, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

  Han murmured something to Cat, jerking his head toward the door. Cat followed Hakkam into the hall.

  A moment later, Cat hurtled back into the room as if chased by demons. She stationed herself in front of Raisa, a knife in either hand, all of her genteel patina swept away. “Cuffs! Look sharp! It’s him, the whey-faced, gutter-swiving, prig-napping bastard! He’s here!”

  Han looked as mystified as Raisa. “Who’s here?” He too stepped in front of Raisa, taking hold of his amulet. He looked from Cat to the door, unsure whether to open fire.

  The door opened, and in walked her uncle, Lassiter Hakkam.

  Followed by Prince Gerard Montaigne, youngest of the unhappy Montaigne brothers.

  Raisa stood frozen, staring at them. Montaigne was beautifully turned out in a deep green velvet coat, cream trousers, and tall boots, his cloak bearing the Red Hawk emblem, a circlet of gold on his head. Raisa glanced quickly at his scabbard. It was empty, so her guard must have taken his sword at the door.

  Good, she thought, remembering poor Wil Mathis dead at Montaigne’s hand.

  Raisa glanced at Cat, whose knives were again concealed, but she still stood between Raisa and Montaigne, balanced as if to spring if necessary. When and how would Cat and Han have met Montaigne? Whenever it was, they seemed to have formed a strongly negative opinion.

  The prince of Arden stopped just inside the door, glancing quickly around the room. His eyes narrowed a bit when he saw Han and Cat. So he recognizes them too, Raisa thought.

  Montaigne’s gaze shifted to Raisa. He inclined his head slightly, as appropriate from one monarch to another.

  “Your Majesty,” he said with a thin smile. “Please accept my apologies for not arriving in time for your witness ceremony.”