The Crimson Crown (37 page)

Mellony rose and paced back and forth. “Oh, I should have known—why didn’t I see it? He’s so handsome, and…and wicked at the same time. You can tell he’s worldly, with that scar and everything. Missy and Alicia and Caroline have been flirting with him for months. He’s always polite to them, but it never goes anywhere, and they can’t figure it out. We never guessed.”

Good, Raisa thought. I’m glad we weren’t that obvious.

Mellony settled back down on the seat next to Raisa, took her hands, and leaned in close. “Who else knows?”

“Nobody,” Raisa said. “Just the three of us. And nobody
can
know—it’s too dangerous. We have to keep it a secret for now—promise?”

“I’ll never ever tell,” Mellony said, dimpling. “Are you lovers? No, don’t answer—you don’t have to. But that’s so romantic, a queen and her bodyguard, like in a story.” She fingered the ring Han had given Raisa for her coronation. “Is this his ring? Are you betrothed?”

Raisa nodded, smiling in spite of herself. “I suppose we are.” She felt guilty, seeing how much joy Mellony took in this shared secret. She’d never confided much in her younger sister; the difference in age and personality had always been a barrier between them—that and Mellony’s role as Marianna’s favorite.

Raisa knew that Mellony’s hopes had been rekindled—that she saw this as opening a path to a future between her and Micah, whether it worked out that way or not. She hoped her younger sister wouldn’t get hurt.

Mellony was still sorting through the implications of Raisa’s confession. “Will you have a big wedding, or will you elope? Oh, I hope you don’t elope! I would love to be in your wedding.” She bit her lip. “If you asked, of course.”

“Of course I would want you in my wedding, but it’s premature to be making any plans,” Raisa said. “None of this is going to be easy or quick.”

A rapping at the door broke into their conversation. Dog raised his head and growled.

“I’ll get it,” Mellony said, with a conspiratorial smile.

She opened the door to reveal Cat Tyburn, travel-stained and weary, her face drawn tight with worry and wariness.

“Cat! You’re back!” Raisa came to her feet. “Thank the Lady.”

Cat stared at Mellony as if startled to find her in the room, then looked at Raisa and raised her eyebrows. Her message was clear:
We need to talk.

“Mellony, I need to speak with Caterina before my meeting with General Klemath and the others. Will I see you at dinner?”

Mellony nodded. “Until dinner, then. I hope your meeting goes well.” She curtsied and departed, a bounce in her step that hadn’t been there before.

Once the door had closed behind her, Raisa embraced Cat, who stiffened and pulled free as quickly as she could manage.

She thinks I should have defended Han Alister to the Bayars and Amon Byrne, Raisa thought, guilt settling like a shroud over her shoulders. She realized that she very much cared what Cat thought of her.

“I’ve missed you,” Raisa said awkwardly. “I’m so glad you’re back. I was worried that…I wasn’t sure where you’d gone.”

Cat took a step back, scowling and drawing her dark brows together. “Is…is Lord Alister here?”

Raisa shook her head, fear worming its way into her middle. “No. I haven’t seen him for more than a week. I hoped he was with you.”

Cat shook her head. “Last we saw him, he was heading here to see you. That was…um…ten days ago. Haven’t seen him since.” She pointed at Dog. “That’s his dog,” she said accusingly.

“I know. He did come here. To see me.” Raisa cleared her throat. “And left again. He said that you’d warned him that…Captain Byrne meant to arrest him.”

“Well. Somebody had to give him the tip,” Cat said, unapologetically. She searched Raisa’s face as if she didn’t quite trust that her queen didn’t have Han locked up somewhere. “Was he…was he all right when he left?”

“Yes. He…we…had a long talk.” Raisa cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks burn. “And we—uh—reached an understanding.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed. “A talk?”

Raisa nodded, biting her lip.

Cat’s lips twitched, almost all the way to a smile. “Hah! He’s a good
talker
, that one. All the girlies say so.”

“Really?” Raisa said, not smiling back. “Well, I don’t know where he went after he left. He said he’d be back three days ago, but he never came.”

“I don’t like it,” Cat said. “There’s too many people got his name down.”

Watching Cat, Raisa said, “He said he was going to look for the Armory of the Gifted Kings.”

“The
what
?” Cat frowned.

“He hasn’t mentioned it to you? You don’t know where it is?”

Cat shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I never heard of it.”

Han Alister was still keeping secrets.

“Where’s Fire Dancer?” Raisa asked. “Could they be together?”

“I just left Dancer,” Cat said. “Cuffs wasn’t at Marisa Pines, and he wasn’t at the crib in Ragmarket, neither.”

Raisa’s heart stuttered. “If he’d been arrested, I would know. But, Cat—is it possible that the Demonai or the Bayars found him first?”

And just like that, the tears came, and Cat had her arms around Raisa, patting her on the back.

“Never fall for a streetlord,” Cat murmured. “That’s what my mama used to say. There’s no future in it. But did I listen?”

“Cat, if anything’s happened to him, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Raisa swiped at her eyes. “Whatever happens, it will be my fault. I should have either gone away with him or sent him away entirely. I shouldn’t have encouraged him to…to—”

“Cuffs never needed encouragement when it came to taking risks,” Cat said. “You’re a good pair that way, at least.”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

Cat looked at Raisa inquiringly.

“See who it is,” Raisa said.

Cat stalked to the door, muttering.

“Your Majesty?” Amon Byrne said, through the door. “We had an appointment?”

Bloody, bloody, bloody bones, Raisa thought. I don’t want to be queen right now.

“Give me a minute,” Raisa said. Fleeing into her bedchamber, she powdered her reddened nose and blotted her damp eyes. Fluffing up her hair, she put her shoulders back and returned to the outer room. Trader face, she thought.

Cat blinked at the transformation. Raisa nodded, and Cat opened the door.

Amon Byrne and Char Dunedain stood there, both grim-faced and pressed perfect despite the sultry day. They bowed to Raisa.

“Captain Byrne, General Dunedain,” Raisa said. “I asked General Klemath to meet us in the audience chamber.”

Amon nodded, but his gray eyes never left Raisa’s face. “Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” he asked. “If you would like to postpone this—”

“No,” Raisa said. “This situation won’t improve with waiting. Shall we go?” On impulse, she turned to Cat. “Lady Tyburn, please come with us.”

Raisa led her officers toward the audience chamber, her guard trailing her, Reid Nightwalker among them. Cat ghosted along ahead, looking down side corridors and out windows.

“Where is everyone?” she said, rubbing her tattooed forearms. “It reminds me of Ragmarket before a streetlord fight.”

But to Raisa’s eyes, the corridors were not deserted. Wolves milled in her path, yipping, their ruffs standing on end. They collected in front of her, dissipating and then reappearing as she and her party walked through. Their voices resonated in her ears:
Beware!

Raisa tried hard not to react to their presence, for fear her new general would think she had lost her wits.
I know this is risky
, she messaged them silently.
But I have no choice.

They crossed the barbican, passing through one tower and onto a walkway to another, where the circular audience chamber was.

They were nearly at the door when Cat stopped abruptly, and stood looking out of one of the tall windows in the crossover from the Queen’s Tower. “Lot of stripers out there, Your Majesty,” she said, as Raisa came abreast of her.

Raisa turned off, coming up beside Cat in the window. Nightwalker stood behind Raisa, looking out over her head. There
were
a lot of stripers out there—as the mercenary soldiers were called—a veritable sea of them, in fact, on both sides of the river, surrounding the curtain wall.

“General Dunedain,” Raisa called, motioning Char to the window. “Did you intend to address the troops as well as the officers?”

“Eventually,” Char said. “But not today.” She gazed out at the thousands of soldiers, tucking her chin and glowering from under her brows. Breathing an upland oath, she turned; her eyes met Amon’s, and some knowledge crackled between them. Nightwalker moved closer, his dark eyes fixed on them as if for a signal.

“Corporal Greenholt, how many Guard on duty in the palace today?” Amon asked, his voice low and steady.

“Thirty, Captain,” Pearlie said promptly. “And fifty more in the guardhouse, the other side of the drawbridge.”

“Send somebody across the bridge to the guardhouse and bring everyone on the double into the keep. Keep it quiet, all right? Then raise the drawbridge,” Amon said, as if discussing the weather.

“Yes, sir,” Pearlie said.

“I’ll go,” Hallie volunteered.

“And me,” Mick said. They left at a dead run.

“Your Majesty,” Amon said softly, tilting his head toward the crossover from the Queen’s Tower. “Return to the Queen’s Tower, bar the door, and wait for us there. Tyburn, go with her and don’t let anybody in.”

Raisa looked at the closed door of the audience chamber. Wolves collected in front of the door, their ears flat against their skulls, baring their teeth as if they would block her way.

She took a step back, and then another. As she turned to run, the door to the audience chamber slammed open and a muddle of buff and striper uniforms poured out.

“Go! Go! Go!” Amon shouted, drawing his sword. Metal rang as swords slid free all around her.

Raisa ran. Behind her, she heard Klemath shout, “There she is! She’s getting away!”

The Guard formed up in the corridor, a blockade of bluejackets and swords. Nightwalker had climbed onto one of the broad stone window ledges, his longbow already singing its deadly song as he fluidly nocked and fired.

Raisa and Cat raced into the other tower, closed and barred the door. Putting their shoulders to it, they pushed furniture against it.

Magret Gray walked out of the bedroom, and Cat all but garroted her before she recognized her.

“Sweet sainted Lady!” Magret said. “What are you doing with the furniture? What is going on?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Raisa said breathlessly. “But I believe that the former General Klemath is leading a rebellion against the crown.”

“Klemath!” Magret scowled. “The scoundrel! What does he hope to gain?”

“I’m guessing that word of his imminent demotion has somehow leaked out.”

“You go on into the bedchamber, Your Majesty,” Magret said. “Lady Tyburn and I will handle things out here.” Casting about for a weapon, she snatched up a large copper lamp.

Raisa knew Magret was thinking of the tunnel to the roof, that Raisa could escape if the renegades breached the outer door.

Raisa shook her head. “I’ll stay here for now,” she said. “There’s a better view of the drawbridge.” She grabbed up her longbow, braced one limb against her instep, bent the bow back, and slipped the string into the nock with a satisfying snap.

Sliding her quiver over her shoulder, she stepped into one of the recessed windows and peered down into the courtyard below.

“Get back, Your Majesty,” Magret hissed behind her. “’Tisn’t safe to show yourself.”

Bluejacketed guards streamed across the drawbridge and into the keep. The view of the mercenaries on the ground was blocked by the curtain wall. If all went well, Raisa’s reinforcements would be inside and the bridge up before the stripers knew what was happening.

But just then, Raisa heard a shout from the opposite tower, where Amon and the others were holding off Klemath and his mercenaries. One of Klemath’s soldiers had stood himself up in the window and was shouting and waving to the mercenaries on the ground.

“The drawbridge!” he roared. “To the drawbridge!”

The soldiers below looked up, shading their eyes, trying to catch the man’s words.

Raisa braced herself, took careful aim, and released. Her arrow buried itself in the man’s chest, and he toppled backward into the tower.

Across the bailey, three stripers hauled themselves over the curtain wall, dropping onto the wallwalk on the inside. From that vantage point, they had a good view of the drawbridge. One of them turned and began shouting over the wall to his comrades on the ground. The other two nocked arrows, aiming at the reinforcements crossing the drawbridge.

Raisa drew back her bowstring, aiming, but her target staggered backward and toppled from the wall, a black-fletched arrow in his throat. Raisa looked across to the other tower in time to see Nightwalker shoot the second bowman.

But it was too late. Outside the wall, a contingent of riders detached itself from the main army and rode madly toward the drawbridge.

“They’re coming!” Raisa shouted to Hallie, who was still down on the bridge, shepherding the last few across. “Hurry!”

As soon as the last of the guards came onto the drawbridge, the chains rattled on the windlass and the great bridge began to rise, nearly tumbling the last guards into the keep. The drawbridge slammed shut just as the first of the horsemen came into view across the river. They skidded to a stop at the river’s edge, shaking their fists, their oaths floating across the water.

“Thank the Lady,” Magret said behind her.

For another two hours that lived like so many days, Raisa and her servants huddled in the Queen’s Tower. In the corridors, they could hear shouting, the clatter of steel, running feet.

They kept watch out the window at all times, but there was little to see and nothing to shoot at. The soldiers outside seemed to be waiting for a signal, or for the doors to open.

Finally, Raisa heard Amon’s voice from the corridor. “The keep is secured, Your Majesty. You can open the door.”

Cat motioned Raisa back and opened the door.

Amon Byrne stood in the doorway, the Lady Sword in his right hand, the blade stained dark with use. Talia Abbott stood just behind him.