The Crimson Crown (34 page)

Putting up a hand to prevent any further disclaimers, he barreled on. “I love the way you ride a horse—how you stick there like an upland thistle, whooping like a Demonai. I love the way you throw back your head and stomp your feet when you dance. I love how you go after what you want—whether it’s kisses or a queendom.”

Then why is it I so rarely get what I want? Raisa thought.

But maybe it’s better to go after something, and not get it, than to not even try.

Han turned her hands palms up, cradling them in his. “I love your skin, like copper dusted over with gold. And your eyes—they’re the color of a forest lake shaded by evergreens. One of the secret places that only the Demonai know about.”

He let go of her hands, reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears on either side. “I love the scent of you—when you’ve been out in the fresh air, and that perfume you put behind your ears sometimes.” His fingers brushed across the pulse points, making her skin pebble up.

She’d no idea he’d noticed. She loved that he’d noticed.
That’s what you do when you love someone—you notice and notice and notice.

Han smiled as if reading her thoughts. “Believe it or not, I even love your road smell—of sweat and horses and leather and wool.” He closed his eyes, breathed in, opened his eyes again as if to assure himself she was still there. “I want to breathe you in for the rest of my life.”

His hands dropped to her shoulders, rested lightly there. “Remember the night before your coronation, when you were having second thoughts? I told you that you didn’t have to do it, that we could run away together, go wherever you liked.” He looked at her, dead on. “I meant what I said. The offer still stands. Let them squabble over the remains like carrion crows.”

Raisa’s thoughts swirled, sweeping memory and emotion along until a few thoughts settled out like pebbles at the bottom of a clear pool.

A choir of clamoring voices had shrilled that there was no way for her to have what she really wanted—that she needed to accept that love was not in the cards for her. The cacophony in her head had distracted her, preventing her from knowing the truth.

She leaned in toward him so their lips were inches apart. She couldn’t help staring at his lips.

“That night before my coronation, when I was having second thoughts?” Raisa said.

Han nodded.

“It wasn’t because I was worried about being queen, though maybe I should have been. It wasn’t that I was reluctant to wade into the mess my mother had left behind. For years, I’d been frustrated because I saw the queendom falling into ruin and I was helpless to change things. Now, for the first time, I’d have my chance, win or lose.”

She paused, but Han said nothing, waiting for her to go on.

“The truth is, I had second thoughts because, deep inside, I knew that accepting the crown meant losing you.”

Han’s blue eyes searched Raisa’s face as if to verify what he’d just heard. “And yet you went ahead,” he said carefully.

She nodded. “I went ahead because I thought there was no chance I could have you, and at least this way I would have one thing I wanted.” Tears burned in her eyes and spilled down her face.

And suddenly they were kissing, Han’s lips fierce and hot against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her tears wetting his face.

“I love you,” Raisa said against his neck, his beard stubble rough against her skin. “Hanalea help me, but I do.”

“Hanalea,” Han murmured into her hair. “There has to be a way to rewrite this.”

“What?” Raisa pulled away and put her hands on either side of his face, looking into his eyes. “What did you say?”

“Never mind,” he said. “I don’t want to waste our time together talking about other star-crossed lovers.” He smiled a feral, ferocious smile. “If you were to give up your throne, I’d do everything I could to make sure you don’t regret it. Whatever kind of life you want, we could create it together.”

“I
have
the life I want,” Raisa said. “Oh, I know it’s not perfect, and people are trying to kill me, and nobody in the queendom can get along, and we’ll likely be invaded soon, but other than that…”

Unexpectedly, they were both, impossibly, laughing, when there was absolutely nothing to laugh about.

They kissed and laughed and kissed again, like the worst kind of fools. The moon rose and set, and they embraced like lovers that have all the time in the world. The breeze from Hanalea touched their heated skin like a benediction, a blessing. Gray shadows formed up around them, set with brilliant eyes and teeth—a gauntlet against intruders.

“The sun’s coming up,” Raisa said finally, as dawn reddened the sky to the east. They lay entwined on a bed of flowers, cradling each other, looking up through the glass at the vault of heaven circling overhead. They hadn’t slept—why waste a single moment of their time together?

Raisa was ambushed by the voice in her head that said,
This may be your only time together.

Red sky at morning, sailor take warning, she thought.

The dog reappeared from wherever he’d been keeping himself, and nudged Han’s arm, licking him in the face and whining uneasily.

“What’s your dog’s name?” Raisa asked, extending her hand so he could sniff it. He seemed to approve, because he settled down beside her.

“Dog,” Han said.

“Dog?”

“I didn’t name him,” Han said. “I inherited him from my former employer.”

So many questions, so many stories that needed telling. A story of their own they needed to write. One with a happy ending.

How long could they stay here without being discovered, in this little sanctuary on the roof?

Not long, Raisa guessed. An endless list of things to do rolled out before her.

Pillowing her head on Han’s arm, she turned over to face him.

“Listen. I’ll send word to Amon, tell him to come here. We can talk to him together. We’ll convince him that you’re innocent.”

Han shook his head. “All we have is my say-so,” he said. “And a lot of evidence to the contrary. My word’s never been good enough before, when it comes to keeping me out of gaol.” He gently disentangled himself from her embrace and got to his feet. Cocking his head, he measured the angle of the sun. “I have to go before it gets too light. Right now is prime—change of shifts for bluejackets.”

“I am the queen,” Raisa said. “I won’t let you go to gaol.”

“You are queen, but you keep telling everyone that you govern under the rule of law,” Han said. “You can’t make an exception in my case.”

“When did you get to be a politician?” Raisa grumbled.

“Everyone in this queendom has to be a politician,” Han said. “It will take a while to get it all sorted out, and meantime, I’m in gaol. I can’t prove I’m innocent if I’m locked up. And if I go into gaol, the Bayars will make sure I don’t come out alive.”

It came back to Raisa how she’d argued with the streetlord Cuffs Alister about the queen’s justice. She was no longer the naive girl who had insisted,
You’ll get a fair trial.

“But…I’m worried that the Demonai or the Bayars will get to you if you’re out on your own.” Raisa bit her lip to stop its trembling.

“Haven’t you heard about me?” he said, with a tight smile. “I’m really a very dangerous person.” And he did look dangerous until he said, “Look, could you watch Dog for me while I’m gone? I can’t take him where I’m going.”

Dog had rolled over, exposing his belly for scratching. Raisa complied. “Of course, but I don’t want to let you out of my sight. I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”

“It’s only for a little while,” Han said. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he gripped both her hands and said, “Raisa
ana
’Marianna, Queen of the Fells, will you marry me?”

She examined his face, but there was no trace of humor there.

“What are you planning to do?” Raisa said.

“Marry you, if you’ll have me.” He looked into her eyes. “I promise you that if you agree to marry me, I will make it happen.”

“That won’t make anybody happy,” Raisa said.

“Except for the two of us,” Han said. He grinned. “And maybe Dog.”

Royal marriages were not done this way. Royal marriages were matters of negotiation between ambassadors in faraway courts, over months and years, hammering out thorny issues of dowries and successions. There was no place for promises and pledges in gardens.

She thought of all the powers arrayed against them. A bittersweet, reckless joy seized her.

“I
will
marry you, Hanson Alister.”

He stood and kissed her hard on the mouth in a way that once again set her blood surging through her veins.

“But I still want to know what you’re planning,” she said, as soon as her lips were free. “No more secrets, remember?”

“No more secrets,” he said, with a heavy sigh. “All right. Have you heard of the Armory of the Gifted Kings?”

Raisa stared at him. “That’s just a story told to children. It doesn’t exist.”

“It does. Our ancestor, Alger Waterlow, stole it, and it hasn’t been seen since. I know somebody who knows where it is. Once I have it, everything changes.” He kissed her again. “I’ll meet you here in the garden, one week from today, at midnight.”

He slipped out of the glasshouse and over the edge of the roof, and was gone.

“Why are you having second thoughts?” Han growled. “We made a bargain, and now you need to honor it.”

Crow paced back and forth, his form flickering like flame. “It’s been a thousand years, Alister. I never intended for anyone to find it, so it’s very well protected. One little misstep, and you and my line will be history.”

“Since when are you so concerned about your line?” Han said.

Crow stared at him for a long moment. “Since I found out I had one,” he said at last, with an embarrassed shrug.

Han had retreated to Lucius’s cabin on the lower slopes of Hanalea after his visit to Fellsmarch. It was too likely a Demonai arrow would find him if he returned to Marisa Pines. He was acutely aware of his self-imposed deadline. He had a week to find the armory, have a showdown with the clans and the Wizard Council, and get back to Raisa with the outcome.

“The Demonai, the Guard, and the Bayars are all out for blood. The Bayars are accusing me of treason. The Guard just wants to arrest me and keep me safe during the inquiry.” Han rolled his eyes. “And the Wizard Council means to dangle me for murders I didn’t commit.”

“That’s a problem,” Crow said. “Not a solution. If you’re going to take this kind of risk, you should at least have a clear idea of what you’re going to do with the armory.”

“I need leverage,” Han said. “I’m no politician, but I learned on the streets that you negotiate from a position of strength. I’ve got to make show. Every wizard in the queendom wants to get hold of the armory. Every uplander in the queendom is scared to death that it will happen. The armory is the one club that will get everyone’s attention.”

“What about the queen? What does she say?”

“She believes me,” Han said, thinking of the night in Hanalea’s garden. I have that, he thought. If nothing else. “She’s on my side.”

“Good,” Crow said, putting a hand on Han’s shoulder. “That’s important.” Han’s ancestor seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for lecturing on the perfidy of women. “It’s just that…I put the armory barriers up a long time ago, years before I fortified the tunnels through most of Gray Lady. My memory isn’t as clear on the details.”

Han couldn’t help wondering how a few years, give or take, could matter after a thousand.

Crow conjured a chair and flopped into it. “What I do remember is that the curses were lethal and as complicated as could be. I was a young wizard showing off.” A large tin cup materialized in his hand, and he raised it in a toast. “If you want to remember everything you do as a young man, stay away from blue ruin.” He took a long swallow. “If I could just see the layout, it might jog my memory.”

“Come with me, then,” Han said.

“What do you mean?” Crow cradled the cup between his hands.

“Like when you undid the charm on Lucas. Sharing. Not possession. So you could look through my eyes and see what I see, and give me directions.”

“Are you sure?” Crow said. “Even that’s risky.”

“What’s riskier—traveling through on my own, or with your help?” Han paused. “I’m saying I trust you.”

“Ah, Alister,” Crow said, his blue eyes swimming with unexpected tears. “There’s no help for it. You get that trusting nature from me.” He blotted at his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded. “All right. I would feel more confident if I could be present with you.”

Han cleared his throat, which was suspiciously scratchy. “So. Do we need to get back to Gray Lady?” That would be difficult and dangerous, he knew.

“Actually, there are two entrances to the tunnels,” Crow said. “I always like to have a back door.”

Han’s head came up. Gooseflesh prickled the back of his neck as he stared at his ancestor. We’re more alike than you know, he thought.

“We can enter from Gray Lady, or from Mount Marisa,” Crow said. “I suggest the Marisa route, since we are less likely to be intercepted that way.”

“Mount Marisa?” Han stared at Crow, his heart sinking. What if Crow referenced a landmark that no longer existed? “I never heard of that.”

“You must have heard of it,” Crow said. “It’s the tallest peak in the area, not far from the capital.” He extended his hand peremptorily. “Where’s the map?”

Han unfolded it and handed it over.

Crow studied it, his brow furrowed. “Right here,” he said, his forefinger stabbing down.

Han looked over his shoulder. “You mean Hanalea? That’s the biggest peak around.”

“Ah,” Crow said, nodding. “I knew it as Marisa. When…when Hanalea was still alive.” Pain creased his face and was gone.

“So you’re saying there’s an entrance to the armory on Hanalea?” Han shook his head. “That’s ironic. Wizards are forbidden to go there, these days.”

“In
my
day, wizards could go wherever they liked,” Crow said.

“In
your
day, wizards nearly destroyed the world,” Han said.