The Crimson Crown

He stank strongly of drink, and the cuffs of his sleeves were stained dark with a substance that almost looked like—

“Where’s Cat?” he said, scanning the room as if looking for intruders. “What’s happened?” He looked and sounded totally sober.

“Nothing’s happened,” she said. “I just needed to … Where have you been?”

“I’ve been down in Ragmarket,” he said, almost defensively. He yanked off the cap and stuffed it into his pocket.

“But, you look—”

“Shabby,” he said, a preemptive confession. “Dirty. I know. I didn’t plan on anyone seeing me. I didn’t expect you’d still be up.”

He looked weary and worn down—vulnerable. It was more than his clothes. Purple shadows smudged his eyes, and his face was streaked with dirt. It almost seemed like the spark of optimism that always burned within him was failing.

Impulsively, Raisa reached up and laid her palm against his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

He pressed his hand over hers, took a deep breath. “They found another dead wizard down in Pinbury Alley. Older woman name of Hadria Lancaster. Do you know her?”

Raisa nodded. “Slightly. She didn’t spend much time at court. Last I knew, she was in residence at her country home. I wonder how she ended up in Ragmarket.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? I wish I knew.” Han met her gaze directly, as if awaiting whatever judgment she meant to impose. She closed her eyes, but his image was imprinted on her eyelids—his golden hair, burnished by lamplight, the faint zigzag scar over his cheekbone, his predator’s grace under the mucky clothes.

Raisa reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Do you have time to talk now?”

“Now?” He looked down at himself, brushing at his clothing as if embarrassed. “Are you sure? I’m sorry. I just … I’m filthy.”

“I know you’re tired,” Raisa said. “But I’ve been gone, and you’ve been unavailable. I need to talk to you before the next meeting of the Wizard Council, and I don’t even know when that is.”

“Can I clean up a little first?” he asked, scrubbing vigorously at his chin with the heel of his hand.

“All right,” she said. “But make it quick. I’m tired, too.”

Five minutes later, he knocked softly, then pushed the door open.

He was still barefoot, but he’d changed into a loose linen shirt and clean trousers. The cap was gone, his hair finger-combed, and he’d washed his face. He looked almost boyish in this fresh-scrubbed state.

“Could you please erect some barricades against eavesdroppers?” Raisa said.

Han circled the room obediently, muttering charms, sliding his hand under his snowy linen shirt to grip his amulet.

When he had finished, Raisa motioned him to the chair opposite hers at the table. He sat, his hands resting on the table, his expression guarded and yet somehow vulnerable. Now that his hands were clean, she saw that the knuckles were skinned and scabbed over. When he noticed her staring, he thrust them under the table, too late.

“What happened to your hands?” she blurted.

“I got into a scrape down in the market,” Han said, grimacing. “I’m a bit out of practice.”

“Why do you go down there?” Raisa asked. “Is that where you’re spending all your time?”

Han shifted his gaze away. “Just trying to work out who’s hushing wizards, trying to catch somebody doing the deed. I have eyes and ears down there, but if it’s a wizard doing the killing, there’s no way my people can stand up to flash. And even if they witness something and survive, it’d be their word against the killer’s.”

“You think it’s a wizard, then?” Raisa said. “Not a street gang?”

“I don’t really know. But if it was a gang from Ragmarket, Cat would know by now.” He nibbled at a ragged nail. When he was exhausted, his trader face and court manners sometimes slid away. “All they take is flash—they leave the other swag behind. So it could be wizard-on-wizard killings—that’s one way to deal with the shortage of amulets.”

And then it came to Raisa—what he was up to.

She half rose from her chair, fear and fury edging her voice. “Admit it—you’re walking the streets all night, hoping the killer comes after you!”

He hunched his shoulders against the verbal assault. “It’s a good plan. Eventually, I’ll get lucky.”

“It’s a terrible plan! I forbid you to make yourself a target.”

Han tilted his chin up, the picture of obstinacy.

“I’m serious.” She cast about for something that would sway him. “Please. I can’t afford to lose you. You’re supposed to be my bodyguard. You should be here with me, not—not—”

“You had something else you wanted to talk about?” The set of his jaw told her that further argument would get her nowhere.

This conversation is not over, Raisa thought. But it is late. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to give you fair warning. Next month I will name Sergeant Dunedain as general of the Highlander Army, replacing General Klemath.”

Han looked puzzled for a moment, and then his face cleared. “Oh. Right. I met her at one of our morning meetings. She came with Captain Byrne. So … you’re putting a bluejacket in charge of the regular army?”

Raisa nodded. “Captain Byrne has been reviewing military finances. I have found some accounting irregularities in the area of procurement that suggests our general has been lining his own pockets for years. Plus there’s the matter of the mercenaries.”

“Where he’s also likely to be on the daub,” Han said.

“I don’t expect Klemath will take the news gracefully,” she went on. “Nor will the direct reports who are loyal to him, since most are from the down-realms. Captain Byrne and General Dunedain have been developing a list of candidates to replace officers who might refuse to accept this change, but that will take time. I think we can look forward to a difficult few months.”

“Especially because Klemath was hoping to marry off one of his sons to you,” Han said.

“Right,” Raisa said, wondering, How did you know about that? Are you somehow keeping track of my suitors? Which made her think of Marisa Pines.

“What was that all about, anyway?” she blurted. “At Marisa Pines.”

“What was what all about?” Han asked, furrowing his brow.

“Your behavior. That dance.”

Han conjured a wounded look. “Well, nobody else volunteered, and so I thought …”

“And the note.”

Now he looked genuinely puzzled. “What note?”

“The note you put under my pillow at the Matriarch Lodge,” Raisa said. “Warning me away from Nightwalker.”

“I didn’t put any note under your pillow,” Han said. He paused for a heartbeat, then added, “Though avoiding Nightwalker seems like a good idea to me.”

“It’s a match my father favors,” Raisa said.

“Then your father is wrong,” Han said. “Nightwalker thinks the world sprouted from his bunghole.”

Raisa dismissed this image with some difficulty. “Then you did leave the note!”

“I did not. It just sounds like somebody else shares my opinion.”

“I won’t be marrying for love,” Raisa said. “I’ll have to make the best match politically if we’re going to get out of this fix.”

“So you’ve said.” Han cocked his head back and looked down his nose at Raisa.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“What?”

“That look on your face.”

“I’m thinking that you’re the queen of the realm. If anybody can marry for love, it ought to be you.”

“You don’t understand how I—”

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m just a jumped-up streetrat in a velvet coat. Now can I go to bed?” He made as if to rise.

“Not yet,” Raisa said, thinking, We have to get off this topic. “Let’s talk about the Wizard Council.”

“What about it?” Han said, easing back into his chair.

“How did the first meeting go? How did the members react to Lord deVilliers’s death? Are they planning any response to the murders in the city?”

Han looked at Raisa for a long moment, as if trying to read the meaning behind her words. “If they are, it’s under the table. Not discussed in open council.” He paused for a heartbeat, eyes narrowed. “Lord Bayar is already trying to blame them on me.”

“On you?” Raisa sat forward. “Why would you be out killing wizards?”

“Didn’t they tell you about me?” Han’s eyes seemed to pin her in place, the color shifting from sapphire to lapis, to deep indigo. “I’m a killer. Need to get a little practice in now and then. And the bodies have been found on my turf. Open-and-shut case.”

“Did anyone believe him?” Raisa asked, worry pinging through her. “That you’re the one responsible?”

Han scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Those that hated me before believe him. Those that hate the Bayars think it’s likely them—or the Demonai.”

“Could it be the Demonai?”

Han shifted his gaze away. “I don’t know what to think. It could be. It’s the easy answer.”

“Could it be wizard politics?” Raisa asked.

“Maybe. But it seems like the killers are picking at random. If it were the Bayars, for instance, you’d think they’d use this opportunity to hush their enemies and blame it on me.”

“Well. Maybe they know that would be too obvious,” Raisa said.

“Maybe.” Han looked unconvinced.

“Are there any on the council who support me?” Raisa said. “Any I can count on?”

Han thought about it. “Well,” he said. “Dean Abelard prefers you to Mellony as queen, or Micah Bayar as king.”

“I suppose that’s something,” Raisa said. “What about Adam Gryphon? Where does he stand?”

“I don’t know,” Han said. “The Bayars tried to push through a vote for High Wizard, and he wouldn’t go along. But I don’t think he’d go against them in a key vote.”

“I want a High Wizard I can trust,” Raisa said bluntly.

“Sure you do,” Han said. “The trick is how to pull that off. The High Wizard is elected by the council, and you know how the council members are chosen.”

“I can’t have a High Wizard whose loyalty rests with the gifted alone,” Raisa said. “I don’t need someone who is more focused on wizard politics than the good of the realm. I need someone I can work with.”

“So you want to change the role of the High Wizard,” Han said. “Is that it?”

Raisa shook her head. “I want the role of the High Wizard to be what it should have been all along—the magical arm of my government. Integrated with it, not in opposition to it.”

“I agree with you, but there’s only so many fights you can pick at a time.” Han sighed, looking glum. “Right now, I’m guessing the new High Wizard will be Micah Bayar. If not him, Mina Abelard. Which one of them do you prefer?”

“Neither,” Raisa said. “I want you.”

“Me?” Han stared at her as if blindsided. “Seriously?”

“Why would I joke about this?”

“I just told you that Lord Bayar accused me, in open council, of murdering wizards,” Han said. “At least some on the council believe him. It’s not going to be easy—to get elected, I mean.”

“Nobody said it was going to be easy,” Raisa said, twisting the wolf ring on her finger.

“No matter how you do the numbers, they don’t come out.”

“Then you need to build alliances with the other council members. You were the one who wanted this post. I can’t bring pressure directly to bear—that’s likely to have the opposite result.”

“No!” Han said, giving his head a decisive shake. “They can’t know you actually support me for High Wizard.” He sat thinking, chewing on his bottom lip, fingering his hair. Finally, he looked up at her. “Let’s be clear on this. You want me to do whatever it takes to make this happen? Things you might not like?”

It was like he was requesting an unconditional pardon for crimes not yet committed. There was no way Raisa could agree to that.

“Well,” she said, “I don’t want you killing anyone.”

“Short of that?” Han persisted.

Raisa didn’t know how to answer that. So she didn’t. “I need to gain influence over the council,” she said, “if there’s ever going to be peace in the queendom.”

“Got it.” Han sat thinking for a moment, then looked up, his trader face on. “If I am elected High Wizard—and I’m not saying it’ll happen—I want to choose who replaces me on the council.” When Raisa opened her mouth to object, he put up his hand. “We had a bargain. I agreed to be your bodyguard, and you agreed to appoint me to the council. As High Wizard, I’ll lose my vote except as a tiebreaker.”

“I would need to approve your choice,” Raisa countered. “Who is it?”

“Hayden Fire Dancer,” Han said, as if he’d had the answer ready.

“Fire Dancer!” She stared at Han. “He’ll never agree to that! He hates the city. He can’t wait to go back to the mountains.”

“He’ll agree,” Han said. “I’ll convince him.”

Raisa recalled what Micah Bayar had said, the day he’d asked permission to court her. The day he’d told her she was in grave danger.

Take this whole business of naming a street thief to the Wizard Council. The council is enraged. They take it as a lack of respect. They think you’re tweaking them on purpose.

“What about the council?” Raisa said. “How are they likely to react? A mixed-blood named to their most important decision-making body?”

“It’s your pick, right?” Han said. “You said you wanted to—what was the word—integrate the council into your government. Dancer would be a reliable ally.”

“They’ll kill him,” Raisa whispered. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Han flinched, and Raisa knew she’d gotten to him. For a long moment, he looked desperately lonely. But he collected himself. “Well,” he said, “they’ll likely kill me too, but it hasn’t happened yet.” He smiled crookedly. “I’ll make as much trouble as I can before they do.”

“All right,” Raisa said. “If you are named High Wizard, I’ll appoint Fire Dancer.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Han said, nudging a blank page across the table toward her.

Raisa stiffened. “My word is not good enough?”

“Good enough for me,” Han said. “But I’ll need proof for the Bayars, because they won’t take my word for it. I want to have it with me when I go to the council. I won’t use it unless I win the vote.”

Shaking her head, Raisa picked up a pen and scrawled a writ across the page.

In the event that Han Alister is elected High Wizard of the Fells, or otherwise cannot carry out his duties as my representative on the Wizard Council, I name Hayden Fire Dancer as his replacement. HRM Raisa ana’Marianna.

Han leaned forward, reading upside down, his head nearly touching hers. When Raisa had finished, she slid it toward him. “Will this suffice?”

Han tapped his fingers on the page. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll let you know what happens.”

I hope I’m doing the right thing, Raisa thought. Please, please, please don’t let anything happen to him.

They sat in awkward silence. Finally, Han stood. “So. If there’s nothing else …”

Raisa stood also, suddenly desperate to make him stay a little longer.

“I hope you’ll be careful,” she said, her husky voice betraying her. “Because you’re really … very important to me and—”

And before she knew what she was doing, she’d slid her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him.

At first he stiffened, resisting, then surrendered, and his arms enfolded her, pulling her in. She tilted her head up, and his lips came down on hers. Her mouth opened against his, and she breathed him in, a complicated mixture of sweat, wood smoke, blue ruin, and fresh air. A thousand unspoken words flowed between them.

Complicated. Complicated. And yet—simple. They were like two pieces of a failed star, drawn together by a shared history and a memory of illicit kisses.

He slid his hands under her shirt, and his fingers hissed against her skin, tracing her backbone down, cupping her backside. She kissed the hollow in his throat where the pulse beat strongest, and then his collarbone, feeling his heart thrumming under the coarsely woven fabric.

He lifted her, hands supporting her, and she wrapped her legs around him, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her hands explored, found openings in his clothing, caressed bare skin. He shivered, and she felt his body shaping itself to hers, as desire drove everything else from her mind.

Finally, with a shuddering sigh, he closed his hands around her waist and straightened his arms, breaking the embrace. They stood staring at each other, both of them breathing hard.

Raisa took Han’s hand, tugging him gently toward the bedchamber. For a moment, she thought he would come, but he set his heels, resisting, shaking his head no.

“Please,” she said, pulling with both hands now, beyond having any pride at all.

His expression was a mingle of frustration, desire, and that familiar obstinacy. “I told you before the coronation,” he said. “I won’t be your backdoor lover. I’m not a thief anymore. I’m not going to steal scraps from somebody else’s table.”

“I know you told me that,” Raisa said, wanting to add, But I didn’t think you really meant it. “But if this—if this is all we can have, and—and if you want it, and I want it, then—”

“You don’t get it,” Han said softly. “If I give in, then it’s too easy to settle for living on the down-low. I need this—” He extended his empty hands toward her, then closed them into fists. “I need this if I’m going to do the hard thing.”

“This is the hard thing!” Raisa shouted, then pressed her hands over her mouth.

Cradling her chin with his battered hands, he turned her face up and kissed her again, gently this time, and sweetly, as if storing up for later. Resting his forehead against hers, he breathed deep. Then took a step back, pulling free.

“Tell me what you want from me,” Raisa whispered.

“Good night, Your Majesty.” Han’s voice shook. Scooping up Raisa’s writ, he padded catlike to the connecting door, slipped through, and closed it behind him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MEETINGS AT MIDDAY

Averill and Raisa walked through the ground-level gardens inside the castle close—one of their rare opportunities to be together these days. Though she’d given him a suite of rooms in the palace, he was rarely there. But today he’d come down from Demonai Camp because he had trader business with the steward.

“I wonder if the day will ever come that I can walk around the castle close, at least, without an entourage,” Raisa grumbled, glancing over her shoulder at her guard. “Nobody told me that being queen would be so … crowded.” It was just one symptom of the troubles that beset her.

“I had hoped tensions would ease after the coronation,” Averill said. “But the threat of war with Arden and Tamron keeps the pot boiling. And these street murders of wizards don’t help. I can’t seem to convince Lord Bayar that the Demonai have nothing to do with it.”

“Are you sure that they don’t?” Raisa asked. “There are hotheads on both sides.”

Averill winced, as if taking a blow. “Do you really think Elena Cennestre and I would sanction something that puts you in danger, Briar Rose?”

Raisa slid her arm through his. “No. I don’t.”

“Could it be Hunts Alone?” Averill asked. “Have you thought of that?”

Raisa resisted the temptation to withdraw her arm. “He’s a wizard himself,” she pointed out. “Why would he go out killing wizards, apparently at random?”

“He may see it as a way to get back at the clans, knowing we’ll be blamed,” Averill said. “The killings have taken place in areas he has frequented in the past.”

“You’re being unfair,” Raisa said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “First you ask for his help against the Wizard Council. Then you accuse him of conspiring with wizards. Now you accuse him of murdering them.” She searched his eyes. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“This is hard for me.” Averill shifted his eyes away, his jaw tightening. “Wizards are not like us, Briar Rose. They prey on each other as well as their more traditional enemies. You cannot assume that because we would not do a thing, that—”

“He says it’s not him,” Raisa broke in. “And I believe him. Why is it that when anything bad happens, Han Alister gets the blame?” She struggled to hide the feelings that threatened to bubble to the surface.

“He’s a killer,” Averill said. “And a thief. And a wizard.” He ticked off each fault on his fingers.

“And yet you made a deal with him,” Raisa said.

“Maybe that was a mistake.”

“Why? What has he done?” Raisa’s face heated, and she turned away so her father wouldn’t see.

“That’s just it—we never know what he’ll do next,” Averill growled. “Somehow, he persuaded you to appoint him your bodyguard, then moved in next door to you. Now you’ve appointed him to the Wizard Council.” Averill paused for a heartbeat, then added, “He’s ambitious.” The word was loaded with meaning.

My father is no fool, Raisa thought. On some level, he knows there’s something between me and Han. That’s what’s driving this enmity. When he looks at Han, is he recalling Gavan Bayar’s seduction of Marianna? If so, I might as well paint a target on Han’s back.

“He’s a man,” Raisa said. “He’s not just a weapon you can aim and fire. You’ve given him a job to do; you should trust him to do it.”

Averill shook his head. “That’s just it—we don’t trust him. Temporarily, our interests coincide. But we’re not naive. We’ve made sure he won’t betray us.”

Raisa wheeled around to face her father. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “What have you done? What are you planning to do?”

“It’s Demonai business, daughter,” Averill said.

“What. Have. You. Done?” Raisa glared up at her father, fists clenched, knowing she was giving too much away, but unable to help herself.

“Briar Rose,” Averill said, taking her hands, trying to soothe her. “Please. I’m just saying that we are keeping a close eye on him. As long as he does as he’s told, he has nothing to worry about.”

He’s lying to me, Raisa thought. My father is lying to me, and he thinks it’s for my own good. They’d always been so close, and it broke her heart that he wouldn’t confide in her anymore.

And she couldn’t confide in him.

“I’m glad to hear that, Father,” she said. “I just want to remind you that Hunts Alone saved my life. That has to count for something. And, just like everyone else, I expect the Demonai to adhere to the rule of law.”

They began walking again, Raisa’s guard still trailing them. Averill glanced back at them, seeming eager to leave the subject of Han Alister. “As long as you remain single, the Wizard Council has hopes of marrying you to one of their own,” he said. “A wedding would take that option off the table. It might actually make you safer.”

Raisa knew where this was going. In a way, this was still about Han Alister.

“It might. Or, depending on whom I marry, it might make me less safe,” she said. “For instance, if I were to marry someone from the Spirit clans, the gifted might decide to assassinate me and try their luck with Mellony.” She paused. “Speaking of Mellony, I wish you would spend more time with her. She’s been lost since our mother died. She and Marianna were so close.”

“I know,” Averill said. “I think some time in the mountains would be healing for her. But Daylily resists my overtures. It’s almost like she blames me for Marianna’s death.”

“Keep trying,” Raisa said. “I’m worried about her.”

“I will,” Averill promised, then quickly returned to his favorite topic. “Now, back to the question of a marriage. I am hoping that you will seriously consider Reid Nightwalker. He’s a strong leader and a skilled warrior, well regarded in all of the camps. He’s of royal lineage through the clans, and my successor.”

“He’s headstrong, don’t you think?” Raisa said.

Averill laughed. “As I was, at that age. I think it’s that passion he has that attracts so many followers. And you like him, don’t you? There was a time, when you were at Demonai Camp, that—”