The Gray Wolf Throne (39 page)

She lifted both hands, palms up. “rise!” she said in that 337

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carrying voice that was becoming familiar. “please make yourselves comfortable. it is so good to be home. i have missed these mountains and the people who dwell here—uplanders and Valefolk, the Spirit clans and charmcasters.” She paused for a long moment. “i came home because i wanted to see my mother’s face and hear her voice again. now that will never happen.

“There are many difficult questions to be asked and answered in the coming days—many decisions to be made.” raisa’s gaze rested on the assemblage on the dais. “But today i have come, and the ancient queens have come”—she waved at the circle of mammoth wolves—“to honor my mother, Queen Marianna. She is the link in an unbroken line that goes back to the warrior queen, Hanalea, who healed the Breaking and saved the world. Such links are not lightly broken. The deaths of queens stir the beasts that lie beneath the dirt. They stir questions in all of us, about what has been and what is to be.”

Han listened in amazement as raisa spoke on. Does she carry those kinds of speeches around inside her all the time? he wondered. Just in case? or do they just hatch out whenever they’re needed?

However she did it, it was something he needed to learn.

The rest of that afternoon passed in a smear of images. Han dismounted and helped raisa down from her horse under the glare of the Bayars. He and Amon Byrne mounted the steps to the dais together, just behind raisa. They stood to either side as raisa embraced her sister Mellony and Averill Demonai and the woman with the long gray braid. She greeted the others more formally, but had a smile and a word for each—even Lord Bayar, 338

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whom she greeted with a rum street face.

The Demonai still stood to either side of the dais, their longbows held loosely in their hands, arrows nocked but pointed at the ground, their eyes fixed on the wizards on the stage. it was less a treaty than a standoff.

Under Jemson’s direction, raisa spoke a prayer over the dead queen, commending her to her rest in the Spirit Mountains. She greeted her ancestors, the Gray wolf queens, naming them from memory. She asked them—and her mother—to watch over her and guide her as she led her people forward.

That makes no sense, asking for guidance from Queen Marianna, Han thought. She’s made a mess of things.

The speaker touched on memories of Marianna as a young girl—her talent for dancing, her skill on the basilka and harpsichord, her love of the hunt. She had been widely hailed as the most beautiful and eligible princess in the Seven realms, attract-ing a relentless parade of suitors vying for her hand. people cheered her wherever she went—she was the glittering center-piece of a fairy tale they all could believe in.

Then the fairy tale ended. Queen Lissa died, and Marianna ascended to the throne at fifteen. Civil war broke out in Arden, and the young queen was challenged by an influx of refugees and a decline in trade revenues. The Council of nobles recommended an isolationist policy and her generals spent vast amounts on mercenaries. Taxes were raised again and again.

worried about being drawn into the wars to the south, Marianna passed over the glittering princes and chose to marry Averill Lightfoot—a suitor from inside the queendom who had the strength of the Spirit clans behind him. when wizards and 339

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Valefolk complained about their fairy-tale princess marrying a copperhead, Marianna defiantly planned the most elaborate wedding ever seen. it was said to have cost one hundred thousand crowns and beggared the treasury for years to come.

even in ragmarket and Southbridge, people still had souve-nirs from that wedding stashed away. Mam had kept a copper coin with Queen Marianna on one side and Averill on the other.

it’s a sad thing, Han thought, when the best a speaker like Jemson can say about you is that you could throw a good party.

That wasn’t all he said, of course, but that was how Han’s bitter ears bent it.

raisa lit the pyre, and the flames spit sparks into the storm-darkened sky. Lightning flamed over Hanalea, and the wolves lifted their muzzles and howled, a sound that raised gooseflesh on Han’s neck and arms.

while the queen burned, raisa called Amon Byrne forward.

He stood poker straight beside her while raisa delivered a eulogy for edon Byrne, Captain of the Queen’s Guard.

“i have loved and hated edon Byrne,” she said. “i have loved him for his clear eye, honest soul, and blunt speech.” She paused.

“i have hated him for his clear eye, honest soul, and blunt speech.” She smiled at a smattering of laughter and applause. “our most valuable servants are those loyal enough to risk telling us the truth—not always what we want to hear, but what we need to hear. edon Byrne was such a man. in the end, he gave his life for my sake. He will be sorely missed.”

She walked forward and looked down at the bluejackets surrounding the dais. “The Byrnes are people of few words, impatient with long speeches, and so i will honor him with a short one.

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i commend him to the embrace of the Spirit Mountains, and know he will watch over his queen and all of the Gray wolf line in death as well as in life.”

Her voice rang out, echoing among the peaks. “enemies of the Gray wolf line had best take notice.”

Han looked straight at the Bayars.

raisa swung around, facing downslope again. “And so, the unbroken line of captains and queens continues. Amon Byrne, please step forward.”

Amon took a step forward, standing at attention, chin up, eyes straight ahead.

“Give me the Sword of Hanalea,” raisa said, extending her hand.

Byrne drew his sword and extended it to raisa, hilt-first. She took hold of the heavy sword with both hands and lifted it so it pointed skyward.

Strange, Han thought. raisa didn’t physically resemble the images he’d seen of Hanalea. The legendary queen had been tall and blond and willowy, with long flowing tresses. This queen was small, with a cap of cropped dark hair, her green eyes brilliant against her honey skin. yet she looked like a warrior, all in armor with the sword in her hand, facing off against the thousands.

“ordinarily, this would wait until my coronation,” she said.

“ordinarily, the Lady sword would pass from one captain to another. But these are not ordinary times. Queen Marianna and her captain died within days of each other. it seems important to reforge the link between captain and queen as soon as possible lest my enemies think they see an opportunity in our losses.

“in the same vein, we will schedule my coronation as soon as 341

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it can be arranged,” she added, her eyes sweeping over the crowd and the assembly on the dais. “There is too much business before us to delay.”

She looked up at Amon Byrne. “kneel,” she commanded.

Byrne fell to his knees, still somehow at attention, his eyes fastened on raisa.

raisa tapped each shoulder with the flat of the blade. “rise, Captain Amon Byrne, Commander of the Queen’s Guard.” Han looked over at the Bayars in time to see a quick look exchanged between Micah and Fiona. Lord Bayar tilted his head toward the general next to him, who was filling Bayar’s ear with something. Bayar was completely expressionless.

princess Mellony seemed a bit blindsided by the cascade of events. She gripped the arms of her chair, her blue eyes wide, shifting from raisa to Amon, and then to Micah, as if for a clue.

But Micah gazed at raisa with a half smile of grudging admiration.

They know they’ve been outplayed, Han thought. The more raisa accomplishes out in the open, in front of witnesses, the less can be forced on her behind closed doors.

Han had no illusions that it would stop them, but it would complicate things at least. raisa had marched into the old neighborhood with her gang, and made show to those that wanted to challenge her.

it was well done.

By now the queen’s pyre had burned down to ashes, fueled by the holy oils the speakers used. raisa smiled at her sister, taking her hands and gently lifting her to her feet. She embraced Mellony again, her younger sister towering over her. She led Mellony over 342

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to the bier, where they stood, hand in hand. As Han watched, raisa leaned over and whispered something in Mellony’s ear.

Speaker Jemson sprinkled a powder over the flames, and a plume of gray-and-white smoke spiraled up, organizing itself into a sleek, fine-boned wolf with blue eyes. She descended to the ground, landed lightly and walked forward, stiff-legged, her ruff bristling about her head, to touch noses with the assembled wolves.

Thunder growled over Hanalea, and the rain came slash-ing down in huge drops that exploded as they hit the dais. The wolves turned as one and loped away, vanishing into the rain-thickened air.

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Homecoming

it was a great day.

it was a terrible day.

raisa had never felt braver.

She had never been more frightened.

She had never been lonelier.

She had never felt more loved.

And now she was on her way home.

The fierce courage that had fueled her during the long service at Marianna’s tomb had ebbed, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

She rode, embedded within her guard, Amon to her right and forward, Han to her left and behind her, surrounded by Demonai warriors, with reid nightwalker and her father, Averill, Lord Demonai, always within sight.

Behind them came her former nurse, Magret Gray, and the other Maidens of Hanalea, their pendants displayed outside their cloaks, honoring the line they’d sworn to serve.

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The time will come, raisa vowed, when i’ll be able to ride unescorted through the streets of my own queendom.

The princess Mellony rode alongside her, her long golden tresses plastered to her forehead and neck, her lips blue and teeth chattering from cold. She wore a lightweight silk cloak in black and royal blue, which was soaked through.

Blinking raindrops from her eyelashes, raisa tugged her hood up. Like most clanwork, her Gray wolf cape was a marriage of beauty and function, and its tightly woven oiled wool fibers turned the downpour. Still, her forward motion as she descended the long slope of Marianna slapped the rain into her face. water ran in rivulets down her neckline and between her breasts.

Mellony kept twisting in her saddle, looking back to see where Micah was, as if to make sure he was still there. He rode alongside Fiona just behind the Demonai warriors.

i need to pay more attention to Mellony, raisa thought. i need to woo her away from those who’ve held her in thrall. She’s all i have left—her and Averill.

They’d never had much in common. Before raisa went to foster at Demonai Camp, their three-year age difference had seemed like a chasm that could never be bridged. raisa prowled the streets with Amon and his older friends while Mellony played with dolls and tea sets under the shelter of their mother’s warm regard.

raisa had returned from Demonai to find that Mellony and Queen Marianna had grown even closer, leaving raisa feeling more like an outsider than ever.

She leaned toward Mellony. “you look cold and miserable,” she said. “Didn’t you bring anything to shed the rain?” She 345

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instantly regretted it. it sounded like she was being critical rather than sympathetic.

And that’s how Mellony took it. The corners of her mouth curved down. “who knew it would start to rain?” she said. “The weather wizards did not predict it.”

“if you ride into the mountains, you have to be prepared for changeable weather,” raisa said, unable to stop herself in her exhausted state.

“you should call Micah forward,” Mellony said loftily. “we often go riding together. He knows how to shield against the rain.”

“Just because he knows how to do it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to use wizardry for such a purpose,” raisa said, thinking guiltily of how Han had dried her cloak in oden’s Ford. “you should be wary of allowing wizards to charm your person.”

“you’re one to talk,” Mellony said, pouting. “when you show up entangled in a wizard’s fetch.”

That sounded too much like Lord Bayar’s words.

This wasn’t going well.

Before raisa could think to ask it, Amon Byrne slowed his pace, angling his horse in closer. He draped his thick Guard cloak over Mellony’s shoulders, then spurred ahead again to give them privacy.

protector of the line.

They’d left the slopes of Marianna behind and were now crossing the relatively flat Vale, making better time as the rain had diminished to an annoying drizzle. The hardpan road presented its own hazards, however—huge puddles hid large craters in the surface.

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it needs repair, raisa thought, like everything else. where will we get the funds?

“where have you been all this time, anyway?” Mellony went on. “we thought you were dead.” She sounded almost as if raisa had pulled a nasty trick by being alive.

“i was in oden’s Ford most of the time,” raisa said. “Attending classes at the academy.”

“you were going to
school
?” Mellony raised her fair brows.

“you ran away to go to
school
?” As if this were inconceivable.

raisa glanced about, wary of getting into the meat of the story with so many eyes and ears close by. “They have wonderful teachers there, and students come from all over the Seven realms. i learned so much.” An idea struck her. “
You
could go there, you know,” she said. “you could study whatever you like. i think we should send more students to the academy than we do.