Exiled Queen, The

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Bird stood also. “Hunts Alone,” she said, her face troubled, her eyes focused on his face. “I’m sorry about... the way things turned out. For us.”

  It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was more than he’d expected.

  “I’m sorry, too.” Han put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched away. “I’ll be back,” he said, swiveling away from her. Snatching his cloak from the peg next to the door, he walked out.

  He strode down the street, headed for the river. He’d cross to the Wien House side and speak with the stableman about his horse. Then go back to his place in Mystwerk Tower and gather up some books and other items he wanted to take with him.

  He was distracted, making mental lists, thinking about all he needed to accomplish, and so his guard was down as he crossed Bridge Street into Wien House territory. As he passed a side street, someone grabbed his arm and yanked him into the space between two buildings. He struggled and kicked, trying to reach his amulet, but his attackers knew what they were doing. Two of them pinned his arms to his sides, holding him immobile.

  There was no sting of wizardry through the grip on his arms, though, and when he looked up, he found himself facing Corporal Byrne. The corporal’s face was hard, intent, focused. Turning his head to either side, Han saw that he was being held fast by Hallie and Talia, their faces set and grim.

  Blood of the Demon, he thought. Just what I need, along with everything else—being beaten up by Rebecca’s jealous ... um ... commander?

  Han remembered what he’d said to Rebecca at solstice about Byrne. There is a thing between you. I just don’t know what kind of thing it is.

  Why would Hallie and Talia be in on it? If anything, they’d encouraged him to walk out with Rebecca.

  “Hey, now,” he said, trying to pull free. “What’s this all about?”

  “Have you seen her?” Byrne demanded. “Have you seen Rebecca?” He looked scruffy and haggard, as if he’d neither shaved nor slept in days.

  “Rebecca?” Han shook his head. “I’ve not seen her since we—ah—since the last time I saw you,” he said. “Up in. .. up in her room.”

  Byrne stuck his hand under Han’s chin, shoving his head back against the wall and practically cutting off his air supply. “Are you sure? Are you sure you haven’t seen her?” His eyes narrowed. “What happened to your face? Have you been in a fight?”

  This wasn’t like Byrne, to manhandle a prisoner.

  “Let go of me,” Han said evenly, “and we’ll talk. I’m not guilty of anything, all right?”

  Byrne stared into Han’s eyes for a long moment, then let go, nodding to Talia and Hallie. They let go also, but stood close in case he tried to make a break for it.

  “We were supposed to meet for tutoring last night,” Han said. “She didn’t show. I thought maybe you had restricted her to quarters, or whatever you sword danglers call it.”

  “But you didn’t come looking for her,” Byrne pointed out.

  Han shook his head. “After last time, I wasn’t sure what kind of welcome I’d get at Grindell.” He rubbed his arms where Talia and Hallie had gripped them. “And I got this face during a—ah—magical practicum. Why? Rebecca’s missing? Since when?”

  “Nobody’s seen her since yesterday afternoon,” Byrne said. “Her things are still at the dormitory, but her horse is gone.”

  “Since yesterday?” Han rubbed his chin, wondering if Byrne kept such a tight leash on all of his cadets. “When she missed our meeting, I assumed she wasn’t allowed to come, she didn’t want to come, or she’s mad at me.”

  Byrne shook his head as if Han were a hopeless idiot. “She’s in danger,” he said, his gray eyes glittering like agates. “I need to find her.” He fingered the hilt of his sword. “Where have you been last night and today?”

  Han thought back. Well, he’d fought in a pitched battle in Aediion, had it out with the Bayars, found out his ex-girlie and his best friend were walking out together, and been given a suicide assignment by another former girlfriend.

  “I was at my dormitory,” Han said. “I’ve been there pretty much the whole time except for that practicum with Dean Abelard. I have people who can vouch for me.”

  Byrne glared into his face a moment more, then shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his forehead wearily. “Any idea where she might have gone? Is there anyone else you’ve seen her with? Could she have gone riding with someone?”

  Han shook his head. “We met for tutoring twice a week, but the other night was the first time I—ah—saw where she stayed.”

  “Do you know Micah Bayar?” Byrne asked abruptly.

  The hair stood up on the back of Han’s neck. “I know him,” Han said. “Why?”

  “He’s gone too,” Byrne said. “He and his sister and cousins have cleared out and left Oden’s Ford, even though exams aren’t over yet. Any idea where they’ve gone?”

  Han shook his head. “We aren’t close,” he said, his stomach knotting up. “But why is that important? I mean, Rebecca used to work for him, but not anymore.”

  Byrne just looked at him as if he didn’t have an answer for that. Not an answer he wanted to give, anyway.

  Han seized hold of Byrne’s lapels with both hands and jerked him closer. “I said, why is that important? What about Bayar? What do you know?”

  “Hey,” Hallie said, putting her hand on Han’s arm. “You don’t touch the commander.” She didn’t raise her voice, but she meant business.

  Han reluctantly let go. “Why would Micah Bayar have something to do with Rebecca’s disappearance?” he persisted, looking from Byrne to Talia to Hallie.

  Memories trickled back, how Rebecca had begged him not to tell the Bayars she was in Oden’s Ford. How she didn’t want to cross to the Mystwerk side for fear of running into them. How Han asked her if she ever went out, and she’d said no.

  A terrible possibility occurred to him.

  “Did Bayar hurt her when she worked for him?” Han said, his heart thudding against his rib cage. “Was that why she was so afraid of him?”

  Byrne’s face might have been a stone slab. “Ask all you want, I’m not going to tell you any more than this—if she’s disappeared, he might have something to do with it.”

  Rivulets of flame ran along Han’s hands and arms, and he gripped his amulet to discharge it. He recalled his words to Bayar when they’d parted.

  You Bayars need to learn that you can’t have everything you want. I’m going to teach you.

  Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the Bayars would always get everything they wanted. Everything Han cared about. Including Rebecca. Had Micah found out they were walking out together? Would he go that far to get revenge on Han?

  It seemed like destiny, a bad dream repeated relentlessly.

  “Where would he take her?” Han demanded. “Bayar, I mean.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Byrne said. He squinted at Han. “There’s something different about you,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Something that reminds me of...” He caught himself. “If you see Rebecca, if you hear anything that might be useful, find me. No matter what time it is.” He motioned to Hallie and Talia.

  Han watched the trio of cadets walk away.

  All the way to the stables, Han chewed over Rebecca’s disappearance like a tough piece of meat. She’d seemed stressed and unhappy the last time he’d seen her, worried about her mother, talking about going home. Maybe she’d up and left.

  But would she leave her belongings behind? No.

  Was it possible that Byrne himself was responsible for Rebecca’s disappearance, and was trying to deflect blame? After all, he was the one who’d driven Han off at swordpoint.

  No. Han hadn’t lived as long as he had by misjudging people. Byrne was a hopeless liar, and he’d seemed genuinely distraught.

  How could Han leave Oden’s Ford with Rebecca missing?

  Han paid his bill at the stable and made arrangements to have Ragger and Simon, his spare ho
rse, reshod and ready to travel later in the week. “Don’t give up the stalls. I’ll be back,” he said, to cover his tracks in case anybody asked. “I’m going to Tamron Court to do some research.”

  The stableman grunted, making it obvious he didn’t care, and probably wouldn’t remember if anyone did ask.

  As he walked back toward the bridge, Han saw a crowd of cadets in their dirtback uniforms outside the Wien Hall library, studded here and there with the colors of faculty robes—Wien House and Mystwerk. He saw Dean Abelard with a group of Mystwerk masters and proficients, apparently directing an investigation of the grounds.

  The crowd hummed with excitement, like a mob on Chatt’s Hill on execution day.

  As Han looked on, two healers carried a body wrapped in a blanket down the steps of the library, followed by a clutch of provost guards.

  No, he thought, his heart stalling in his chest. Oh, no.

  Han pushed and shoved his way through the onlookers, drawing scowls and curses along the way, until he stood next to the walkway as the healers passed by. He grabbed the sleeve of one of the provosts.

  “Ma’am? Who is it? Who’s dead?”

  The provost ripped her arm free. “Leave go, boy. We’ll issue a statement.”

  “But my friend—she’s missing,” Han said. “Since yesterday.”

  The provost stopped so suddenly, the person behind her practically ran into her. She turned off the path, pulling Han by the arm. “What’s your friend’s name?” she asked.

  “Rebecca Morley.”

  “Come with me.” The guard pushed Han back toward the library. As he passed Abelard, she looked up and fixed him with a piercing gaze.

  They walked through the heavy double doors and up the steps. Around and around they climbed, while Han’s heart sank lower and lower.

  Finally they reached the top of the staircase and threaded their way through a warren of small reading rooms. The door to one room stood ajar.

  “In there,” the guard said.

  Han halted just inside the door, half sick with dread. The room was small, with a desk under a window on one wall, a fireplace on the other, a worktable facing the door. Books and papers lay scattered over the surface of the table. A lamp lay smashed on the floor, and bits of glass glittered in the sunlight from the window. Blood splattered the wooden floor between the door and the table.

  A stocky man in Wien House master’s robes stood looking out the window.

  “Master Askell,” the provost said. “This boy says he’s friends with Rebecca Morley.”

  Master Askell turned toward Han, his broad face etched by years of sun, and completely impassive. He took in Han’s attire, the amulet at his neck. “Who are you?” he asked, without preamble.

  “Han Alister. Newling at Mystwerk House,” Han said.

  “How do you know Rebecca?” Askell asked.

  “She was tutoring me,” Han said. “We met back home.”

  Askell pointed at the worktable. “See if you recognize the materials on the table as Rebecca’s.”

  Sand and glass gritted under Han’s boots. Blotting sand was also scattered across the tabletop, the jar overturned. Here were pages of notes in Rebecca’s familiar, angular handwriting. Here was her ornate pen and enameled ink bottle.

  Han shut his eyes and swallowed hard. Blood and bones, he thought. Bloody, bloody bones. Would the carnage in his life never stop?

  “These are hers,” Han said, looking at Askell, his voice thick with despair.

  The master held up a dagger by its tip. “We found this lying next to the wall,” he said.

  “That’s hers too,” Han said. He crossed the room to take a closer look. There was no blood on the blade. So Rebecca hadn’t gotten any back.

  I should’ve hushed Bayar when I’d had the chance, he thought. I should’ve stuck with what I know—street rules.

  “You better send someone for Commander Byrne,” Han said hollowly.

  “He’s on his way.” Askell set Rebecca’s blade on the table.

  “How did she die?” Han asked, leaning his hands on the stone sill and staring out the window. “What killed her?” Would Bayar have been so arrogant as to use wizardry?

  When Askell didn’t answer, Han turned to face him, leaning his backside against the window frame. The master looked perplexed. “Are you talking about Rebecca?” he asked.

  “Well, yes,” Han said. “I saw them carrying out the body.”

  Askell shook his head. “We found four bodies, in fact, two men, two women, none of them students, though they all wore cadet uniforms. One was in here. He seems to have smashed his head against the table during a struggle. The other three were outside, and they appear to have been killed with wizardry.”

  “What?” Han stared at Askell. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Askell shrugged. “There are many things in this world that don’t make sense,” he said. “Rebecca may be dead, but we did not find her body.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  DETOURS

  Raisa opened her eyes to darkness and motion and the stench of damp wool. She felt dizzy and confused. Her head pounded, and her mouth tasted like the dregs of a bad barrel of cider. She tried to raise her arms, but they were wrapped tight in fabric, confined close to her body, and a hood was pulled up over her head so she couldn’t see.

  She was on horseback, riding double. She could feel the heat of another body against her back. She struggled to free her arms so she could yank off the hood, and Micah Bayar slid an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

  “You’re finally awake,” he said, his lips close to her ear. “Careful you don’t fall off. We’re aboard Raider, and it’s a long way to the ground.”

  As the rest of her senses awakened, she became aware of the sound of horses in motion around her—hooves on a hard-packed road, the squeak of saddle leather, the murmur of voices.

  Raisa shook her head from side to side, trying to dislodge the hood. That set her head to pounding with the headache typical of a turtleweed hangover. For an awful moment she thought she might spew over the both of them.

  “Where are we?” she asked, when the danger had passed.

  “We’re north of Oden’s Ford, on the road to Fetters Ford,” Micah said. He tugged the hood back so she could see, and the fresh air helped. They rode through dense forest, the canopy of trees nearly meeting overhead.

  Raisa looked around. Switcher followed behind on a lead line, loaded with supplies. Ahead she could see the rest of the party, four other riders who must be the Mander brothers, Fiona, and one other wizard.

  “Who’s that?” she asked. “With Fiona and the Manders?”

  “Wil Mathis,” Micah said. “He asked to come north with us.”

  Raisa knew Wil from court. He was sloppy and good-natured, unusual for a wizard. Two years older than the Bayar twins, he’d been in love with Fiona for as long as Raisa could remember.

  They each led a spare horse, carrying baggage and supplies. Off to the right, through the trees, Raisa caught glimpses of water. That would be the east branch of the Tamron River.

  “What day is it?” she asked.

  Micah laughed softly. “You haven’t been sleeping that long, Your Highness. It’s the day after we met in the Wien Hall library. We left in the middle of the night. I expect we’ll be four days to Fetters.”

  “Will you... Will we head up through Demonai Vale, then?” she asked. That would provide another opportunity, if she could somehow get away.

  “No,” Micah said. “We’ll go east, skirting the mountains, and up through Delphi. I have no desire to meet up with any of the Demonai.” He snapped his reins and their horse picked up the pace to catch up with the others. Even though Raisa was small, Raider was feeling the burden of carrying two riders.

  Was there any chance Amon would come after her? It seemed unlikely. Until now, she’d managed to avoid Micah Bayar and the other wizards from Fellsmarch. Amon would have no reason to suspect the
m. Maybe he’d even think she’d decided to go home on her own. No doubt he’d be searching for her, but he’d have no idea where to look.

  Would his magical connection tell him she was in trouble? Might it lead him to her? She prayed it would, but worried what would happen if it did.

  They stopped for lunch in a small clearing between the road and the river. They did not build a fire. Raisa, Micah, and Fiona stood among the trees, eating cold meat, bread, and cheese, and washing it down with cider while Wil and the Mander brothers grained the horses and led them down to the river to water them.

  “Now that I’m awake, maybe I should ride Switcher, so Raider doesn’t tire,” Raisa said.

  “Oh no, Your Highness, I’m enjoying our time together, and hope you are too,” Micah said, brushing his lips across her cheek. “I think Raider understands.”

  Micah might be arrogant, but he’d never been stupid.

  It was a cloudy, cool spring day, the air so laden with moisture it was like breathing underwater. Raisa shivered, her skin pebbled with goose bumps, though it wasn’t that cold. She swiped wet tendrils of hair off her face, feeling unsettled.

  Fiona did her best to ignore Raisa’s presence, but her disapproval was palpable. Clearly, she believed the assassins should have been allowed to do their job.

  Raisa stared out into the surrounding forest, trying to ignore Fiona. The dry bread and cheese were hard to choke down. Shadows moved under the trees. She blinked, and they were still there, gray shapes sliding through the mist. Gray wolves.

  It seemed she was seeing them more and more—but maybe that was a reflection of the way her life was going. Were they there because of her present predicament? Or did they signify some new threat?

  The wolves surrounded her, tongues lolling, ears flat, bumping their great heads against her middle, nearly knocking her over.

  “Great lot of good you do me,” she grumbled. “Why can’t I teach you to attack wizards on command?”

  “Excuse me, Raisa?” Micah said. He touched her arm, looking a little concerned. “Were you speaking to me?”