The Exiled Queen (44 page)

Fiona hesitated, her hand on her amulet, hand extended, unable to get a clear shot at Han without striking her brother.

“Kill me, and you’ll never get out of here,” Han shouted, exasperated.

Micah struggled and kicked, doing his best to rid himself of Han so he could hush his sister. But Micah had a lot to learn as a street fighter.

Han wasn’t sure how to evict Crow without killing Micah. But he had a theory.

Keeping a tight grip on Micah, he yanked off Micah’s amulet.

Crow materialized again as himself, mad as a cat in a downpour. Moments later his consciousness slammed into Han again. And failed again to penetrate.

While Han was distracted, Micah smashed his fist into the side of Han’s head, making him see stars. “Give me back my amulet, you gutter-spawned pretender!”

Han smacked him with an immobilization charm, and Micah finally went down and lay still, staring up at the sky. It worked so well, Han did the same for Fiona.

“Now kill them, Alister,” Crow said, standing over the Bayar twins like the Breaker, eager to snatch up some souls. “Kill them now.”

“Nuh-uh,” Han said, swiping blood from the side of his face. He nodded toward Micah and Fiona. “If you want them killed, then you do it.”

“Hurry,” Crow said. “You’re running low on power. You’ll have to go back before long.”

Han broadened his stance, folding his arms in defiance. “You can’t do magic on your own, can you? You’ve been using mine all along.”

Crow flinched, and Han knew he’d guessed right.

“How can you say I can’t do magic?” Crow said. “How could I be here otherwise? How could I do this?” And he sent flame spiraling down the street.

“You can do illusions,” Han said. “You showed me that the first day. But you can’t do magic in the real world. You can’t do magic that would kill them”—he pointed at the Bayars—“without me.”

“I’m not going to honor that with a response,” Crow said haughtily. “I’ve forgotten more magic than you’ll ever know.”

“You know it,” Han said. “But you can’t perform it.”

“You are out of your mind,” Crow said. “Are you going to kill the Bayar vermin or not?”

Micah’s eyes shifted from Crow to Han, watching this exchange with interest and not a little alarm.

“Show me how it’s done,” Han said, pointing.

Crow made one more halfhearted attempt to slide into Han’s head. “How are you shielding yourself?” he demanded.

“You’re the one should be explaining what your game is,” Han said. “Not me. You going to hush them or not? If not, we’ll be off. As you said, we’ve been here too long already.”

Crow gazed at Han for a long moment, as if trying to look through his skin. “I’ve underestimated you,” he said finally, shaking his head.

“It’s a common problem,” Han replied. “Especially with bluebloods.”

Crow blinked out like a dying ember.

Han waited a few moments to see if Crow would reappear. Then squatted next to Micah and Fiona.

“You two listen to me. I’m going to release you. We’ll go find the others and then go back. You have a dispute with me, it can wait till we’re out of here. You spill anything to Abelard, I’ll leave you behind. You kill or disable me, none of us gets back, and that’s the truth. Do you understand?” Han waited, and of course they didn’t do or say anything in their immobilized condition, but he knew they weren’t idiots, so he gave them the benefit of the doubt and disabled the charm.

They levered to their feet, slapped their hands on their amulets, and eyed him like he was a wild beast.

“Come on.” Without looking back, Han strode down the street toward Crow’s wall of flame, which had died to nothing in his absence.

“Alister!” A tall, angular figure walked toward him, carefully stepping over the scorched site of the wall. “You’d better have an explanation for this.”

It was Dean Abelard, her hand wrapped around her amulet. The others trailed behind, all except for Gryphon, who rushed ahead to take Fiona’s hands and peer anxiously into her face.

“Are you all right?” he said. Fiona nodded wordlessly. Gryphon slid an arm around her when she seemed in danger of falling.

“Alister!” Abelard repeated, her voice flinty. “What happened?”

Han shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I did. This never happened before, not any of the times I crossed over. I never saw anyone I didn’t plan to meet or bring with me.”

“You’re injured,” the dean said, looking at each of them in turn, her dark brows drawn together.

“That cove tried to kill us,” Han said. “Just laid into us like a mad tom, sending flames flying and spouting one charm after another. We held him off, but it was touch and go, even three on one.” He shuddered. “Then finally he just blinked out. Disappeared. He must’ve run out of power.”

Abelard frowned. “You don’t know this man? You never saw him before in the real world, either?”

“I never did,” Han said. He shot Micah and Fiona a warning look. “You ever?”

They just shook their heads, eyes wide, their faces pale as plaster.

“We didn’t know where you were, or if you were—if you were still alive,” Hadron said, looking up at the Bridge Street clock. “It’s been a lot more than ten minutes—thirty, at least.”

“Proficients deVilliers and Hadron attempted to go back on their own when we knew it was past time for us to return,” Abelard said. “They were unsuccessful.”

They were all white-lipped and scared to death, except for Gryphon and Abelard.

The dean’s face was creased with puzzlement and suspicion. Gryphon looked happier than Han had ever seen him, the layers of pain and frustration and bitterness fallen away. He looked like a dedicate who’d seen the face of the Maker.

Peculiar.

“I’d love to chat further about this,” Han said, tearing his eyes away from Gryphon, “but we’ve been here too long, and I don’t want to risk another ambush.”

“Let’s go,” Mordra said, gazing around uneasily.

“Everyone reach in and take hold of me.” The other six stood in a circle around Han, jockeying for position until they all had a grip. “Now, you’ll speak the charm to open the portal, while I speak mine.”

The world went dark in a jumble of competing voices. Han opened his eyes to Abelard’s meeting room and felt the weight of someone on top of him. It was Fiona. They were in a kind of tangle on the mattresses. Han quickly extracted himself and stood.

He counted. All had returned. He let go a sigh of relief.

Abelard took her own head count. “Well,” she said briskly, “at least we didn’t lose anyone, even if there were a few injuries.” Her tone suggested there was no making omelets without breaking eggs. “Congratulations on traveling to Aediion, something not many can say they’ve done. I will let you know whether there will be any follow-up on this. In the meantime, I shouldn’t have to remind you to say nothing about this to anyone.”

“Excuse me, Dean Abelard,” Han said. “You all can do what you want, but I’m not going back. It’s not worth the risk.”

Several of the others nodded in agreement.

Abelard tightened her lips but said nothing more as they filed out silently.

Micah and Fiona waited for Han at the bottom of the stairs. “I want to talk to you,” Fiona said, gripping his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh.

“Hands off,” Han said, his knife pressing into Fiona’s throat. “I’ll give you to the count of three. One.”

She jerked back her hands. Han’s knife disappeared.

“Just because I didn’t hush you in Aediion doesn’t mean we can all be friends,” Han said. “I want to get a few things straight with you. Now, let’s walk out onto the quad, where it’s nice and public. I’m not meeting in back alleys with a pair of connivers like you.”

He walked out into the center of the quad and sat down on a bench on the pavilion surrounding Bayar Fountain.

The Bayars followed him. Han gestured to a nearby bench. They sat.

“What were you thinking, Micah, sending a street rusher up against a wizard?” Han said, idly tossing his knife and catching it. “That was a mismatch. She’s talented, I’ll admit—there aren’t many Temple students who can cut your heart out through your clothes. But she’s never been a steady hand as a draw-latch.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Micah said at the same time that Fiona said, “Who?”

“Cat Tyburn doesn’t crew for you anymore,” Han said. “Sorry.”

“Who is Cat Tyburn?” Fiona asked, looking from Han to Micah with narrowed eyes.

Micah eyed him, his curiosity clearly battling with his desire to keep denying what Han already knew. “What happened? Where is she?” he said finally.

“Where do you think?” Han flipped his knife, caught it.

“You killed her?” Micah’s expression was all horrified fascination.

Han shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about Cat.”

“Well, I do,” Fiona snapped, glaring at her brother. “What have you been up to?”

“Later,” Micah said. “Let’s talk about what happened in Aediion. Who is Crow? Or was he just a bit of conjury you put on for our benefit?”

Han tried the edge of his blade against his thumb. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea who Crow is, or what his game is. I was as surprised as you when he showed up.”

“But you know him,” Fiona pressed. “That was obvious.”

“I’ve met him,” Han said, putting his knife away. “Can’t say I know him. Let’s just say that your visit to Aediion was a case of getting in over your head. Magically, I mean.” He closed his hand on the Demon King’s amulet. “Now. We need to get something settled. I’ve had enough of always watching my back, waiting for somebody to pick my pocket or jinx me or slide a blade between my ribs.” He waggled the amulet. “You want this, come and get it.”

Micah shook his head. “We’re not stupid. You’ll attack us. Or we’ll get expelled for attacking you.”

“I promise. Cross my heart. I won’t attack you. If you can take it, you can have it.” Han smiled, all toothy and slantwise. “Either one. Come on. Who’s first?”

“Toss it over here,” Fiona said.

“Now that would be stupid, wouldn’t it?” Han said. “You with three amulets between the two of you, me without any.” He held the amulet up by its chain. “Nah. You come take it from me.”

Micah shook his head again. “No. I don’t trust you.”

Han sighed. “Guess you’re way too smart for me. See, this thing is choosy about who uses it. Touch it, and you’re nothing more than a smudge of ash and a lingering stench on the breeze.”

“You’re forgetting that I’ve used it before,” Micah said.

“Then come get it,” Han said, grinning, caressing the serpent’s head. “Now or never.”

Fiona pursed her lips. “You’re saying you can handle it and we can’t? When we are the rightful owners?”

“You Bayars keep saying this jinxpiece belongs to you,” Han said. “It doesn’t. You stole it from Alger Waterlow a thousand years ago. It was supposed to be destroyed, but your family’s got a whole stash of illegal magical weapons, don’t you?”

The two Bayars sat perfectly still, not blinking, their hands cradling their own probably stolen jinxpieces.

“You can’t prove any of that,” Fiona said finally.

“Sure I can. All I have to do is hand this amulet over to the clans and tell them where I got it. They’ll believe me. I’d say my word with them is better than yours. Besides, Hayden Fire Dancer was there that day on Hanalea, and he’s well connected with the Spirit clans.”

“You won’t hand it over,” Micah said. “The clans will destroy it.”

“Maybe,” Han said. “Maybe not. But I promise you this—you won’t get it back. Your father murdered my mother and my sister. The Queen’s Guard locked them in a stable and set it on fire. They burned to death. Lord Bayar didn’t light the fire, but he might as well have. My sister was seven years old.”

Micah’s gaze shifted away. “You were wanted for murder. The queen—”

Han raised his hand to stop the spray of words. “Murders I didn’t commit. Oh, there’s plenty of blame to go around. The queen’s on the list too. But I’m not stupid. Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that.”

Fiona shook her head, eyes fixed on Han’s face. “No. I won’t.”

“After that, somebody—your people or the queen’s—somebody murdered my friends in Ragmarket, trying to get them to tell where I was. Some of them were lytlings, too. They didn’t pick the street life, you know. It was that or starve.” Han tilted his head. “You going to tell me the queen was hunting me because of some Southies that died?”

“You stabbed our father when he tried to negotiate the return of the amulet,” Fiona said. “You nearly killed the High Wizard of the realm. I would say that’s reason enough for the guard to go looking for you.”

“Negotiate?” Han stared at her. “Negotiate? You bluebloods got your own patter flash. On the street we call it having tea with the pigs. He told me straight out he was going to take me back to your place and torture me to death.”

Micah shifted impatiently. “So what’s your point?”

“The point is, I paid a really high price for this amulet,” Han said. “There’s no way either of you can use it. And I’d rather it was melted down and destroyed than back in your hands. Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” Fiona whispered, her face even paler than usual. “But you’re a fool if you continue to use it. You don’t know how dangerous it is.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Han said. “You know, Micah, that first night, when I saw you on Bridge Street, I wanted to kill you. I wanted to cut your throat and watch your blood soak into the dirt. I wanted to wrap a strangle cord around your neck and throttle you while you kicked and messed yourself.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Micah said, looking Han dead in the eyes.

Han stood and took a step toward him. “I’m what’s hiding in the side street when you walk home from The Four Horses,” he said. “I’m the shadow in Greystoke Alley when you go out to take a piss. I’m the footpad in the corridor when you visit the girlie at Grievous Hall.”

Micah’s eyes narrowed, his self-assurance wilting a bit. Han could tell he was going back over a hundred suspicious sights and sounds. “You’ve been following me?”

“I can come and go from your room, any time I want,” Han said. “I can tell you what you say when you talk in your sleep. I know what your down-low girlie whispers in your ear.” He laughed. “You can’t keep me out of any place I want to be in. I would’ve known about Cat sooner, but you always met with her when I was in class.”