The Demon King (35 page)

Queen Marianna turned toward Raisa, swiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, we can’t risk waiting. I’ll make it up to you somehow. We’ll throw a reception like the world has never seen. We’ll invite everyone. You’ll see.”

Then Raisa was crying too, tears of fury and disappointment, knowing she was truly on her own.

What would Hanalea do?

“It’s all right, Raisa,” Micah whispered, patting her back awkwardly. It was all she could do not to swing around and punch him in his perfect nose.

“Where…where would we go after?” Raisa asked, thinking there still might be a way out, a way to prevent this thing from being consummated. “Might we go back to my apartments, and…”

“We’ll host you at Aerie House,” Lord Bayar said. “We have an apartment prepared for you. We’ll send someone after your things. That way the two of you can have some privacy.” He smiled his tiger smile.

“All right,” Raisa said, swallowing hard. “If you think it’s best. Only…” She sniffled and blotted her face on her sleeve, wiping away tears of rage. “If Father can’t be here, I would feel so much better if I could wear the rose necklace he gave me. It would…it would be more like he was here. I’ll fetch it. It will just take a moment.”

“Oh, come on!” Lord Bayar exploded, his impatience getting the best of him. “Speaker Redfern has been here for two hours waiting. Let’s do it, and if anyone asks, we’ll say you had it on. You have the rest of your life to wear the thing.”

“No,” Queen Marianna said, belatedly developing a backbone. “The princess heir shall wear her father’s necklace, if it helps to cheer her. It’s the least we can do. She’s sacrificed enough for duty in this.” And she said it in a way that brooked no argument.

Bayar mastered himself with difficulty. The wizard was definitely forgetting his place. Whatever that place was these days. “Of course, Your Majesty. We’ll send one of the guardsmen after it.”

“Thank you, Lord Bayar,” Raisa said. “But it will be quicker if I go. I’m not sure just where I’ve left it, and I don’t want soldiers pawing through my jewelry. I’ll be right back.” She tried to pull free from Micah’s grip.

“Micah, you go with the princess heir and bring her back safely to us,” Lord Bayar said. “I know you won’t let her get away.” He smiled as he said it, but his blue eyes were bright and hard as sapphires.

And then they were hurrying down the hallway, Micah holding tightly to her wrist. He trickled more magic into her, as if to reinforce his previous efforts.

This time she decided to acknowledge it. “I had no idea you could do magic, Micah,” she said. “Where did you learn how? And where did you get an amulet?”

He flinched, as if she’d broken the secret code. “Well, I don’t know much. My family has some…magical heirlooms.”

“No wonder Mama wants us to marry,” Raisa said. “That gives you an advantage over other wizard houses, right? Because you don’t have to beg your amulets from the clan?”

Micah nodded. “These days, the only amulets you can get are temporary. They lose their effectiveness over time. So you have to keep going back to the clan to restore them, or get new ones. The clan uses that to control the gifted.”

“And these don’t wear out?” Raisa asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Micah muttered, glancing around as if they might be overheard. Unfortunately, the corridors were deserted. It was too late even for the late-nighters and too early for the early risers.

“Do you really want to marry me, Micah?” She was genuinely curious. He’d told her they didn’t have a choice. Maybe if he saw a way out of it…

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Who wouldn’t want to marry the princess heir of the Fells?” he said.

“Is that all I am to you? A title?”

He thought a moment, and when he spoke, she thought he told the truth. “You’ve always fascinated me, Raisa. I could always have any girl but you. And you’d never let me get away with anything. You always say what you think.” He almost smiled. “I’d rather kiss you than bed any other girl at court.”

Strange praise, she thought.

“I think we could be good together,” he went on, “once we get through this.”

We could be good together. Not exactly a protestation of love. Nor a promise to give up his wanton ways.

The irony was, she might have given the proposal serious thought, at least, if it were not being forced on her.

They climbed the wide stairs, startling a cat sleeping on the top step, and turned right, past the sleeping Mellony’s room, to Raisa’s suite.

The stocky guardsman Raisa had met earlier leaned against the wall next to the door. When he saw them coming, he straightened and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, looking from Micah to Raisa in confusion.

“You wait here,” Raisa said to Micah. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” She pushed open the door.

After a moment’s hesitation, Micah made as if to follow her in, and the guardsman stepped in front of him. “You heard Her Highness,” the soldier said. “Wait here.” And, blessedly, he pulled the door shut.

Micah must have groped for his amulet, because Raisa heard a sword slide free. “Let go of that thing,” she heard the guardsman say.

She could hear them arguing back and forth, their voices rising. She figured she had a little time. Micah wouldn’t be too alarmed. As far as he knew, there was only one way in and out of her room. She couldn’t very well leap from her window, which was high above the river below. Besides, she’d said nothing to make him think she’d rather leap to her death than marry him. So far.

“Your Highness?” Magret blinked sleepily at her from her chair by the fire. She’d fallen asleep waiting up for her. “What time is it getting to be? I know it’s your name day and all, but…”

“Magret, do you love me?” Raisa asked breathlessly.

“What kind of question is that, my lady?” Magret sputtered. “’Course I—”

“Then pack me some riding clothes,” Raisa said. “Clan style, in saddle bags, for several days. Nothing dressy. Hurry!” As she spoke, she shed the creamy silk that was to have been her wedding dress—and wouldn’t be, if she could help it. Wadding it up, she tossed it into the corner, then stripped off her slippers and stockings and yanked on a pair of trousers laid out on a side chair.

“What is going on?” Magret asked, now wide awake, throwing open drawers and thrusting clothing into two saddlebags. She paused and straightened, midthrust. “You’re not eloping, are you?”

“The opposite. The Bayars mean to force me into a marriage with Micah Bayar,” she said, omitting the fact that the queen was in on the scheme.

“That’s crazy talk,” Magret said, continuing her frenetic preparations. “You can’t marry a wizard. They know that.”

“They may know that, but they’re doing it anyway. They’ve got a speaker and everything, and afterward they mean to carry me off to Aerie House.”

“What?” Magret’s voice rose, and Raisa shushed her frantically.

“Micah’s just outside the door. He’s waiting for me.”

Magret glared at the door. The argument was still going on in the corridor. “I don’t like wizards, I never have.” Magret carried clan blood and, with it, an inborn suspicion of wizards. “You don’t mean to go with him, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’m leaving. I need you to keep him out as long as possible so I have a head start.”

“Your Highness, I don’t like the notion of you climbing down off the balcony, I really don’t. You’ll break your neck.”

“There’s another way. Through the closet. You’ll see.” Raisa went into the closet, dug out her boots, sat on the floor, and yanked them on.

“Through here?” Magret peered into the closet. “A tunnel, then?” Raisa nodded, and Magret said, “I’d always heard there was one, somewhere in this part of the castle.”

“It lets out in the glass house,” Raisa said.

Magret’s eyes kindled with pride. “You’re just like she was,” she breathed.

“Like who was?”

“Like Queen Hanalea herself.” Shyly, Magret drew back her sleeve, exposing her inner arm. On it was a tattoo of a howling wolf against a rising moon.

“You’re a Maiden?” Raisa spoke louder than she intended, and now Magret was the one shushing her. The howling wolf was the emblem of Hanalea’s Maidens, a mysterious organization of women dedicated to the warrior queen’s memory.

“I am,” Magret said. “They meant to force her into marriage with a wizard, and she wouldn’t stand for it. Said ’twas better to be a maid than married to a demon.”

Well, Raisa thought. There’s more to Magret than meets the eye.

“Where will you go, Your Highness? The queen must be informed,” Magret said.

“She will be, don’t worry,” Raisa said. She hesitated a moment. “Lord Bayar has my mother spelled, I’m afraid. She’s agreed to the marriage.”

“Blood and bones of the queens,” Magret swore. “The scoundrel. I haven’t liked this business going on, no I haven’t. I always said your da should spend more time at home.”

Tears came to Raisa’s eyes. She was touched that her nurse believed her, that she was on her side. She’d begun to think she was losing her mind.

“Will you be needin’ any money?” Magret asked. “I have a little put by, you know.”

Raisa kissed her formidable nurse on the cheek. “I’ll be fine.” She lifted her mattress and pulled a small velvet pouch from underneath. “My emergency fund,” she said. It was the money she’d made working the markets during the summer. Princesses weren’t supposed to make money. She’d put it away to avoid any arguments. She tucked her dagger into her belt and slung the saddlebags over her shoulders.

Someone pounded on the door. “Hurry up, Rai—Your Highness,” Micah shouted. “Everyone’s waiting.”

“You be quiet, Young Bayar,” Magret shouted back. “Don’t be shouting in the hallways like a besotted sailor! The princess will be ready when she’s ready.”

Before long, everyone will be awake, Raisa thought.

“Thank you, Magret. I’m off. Tell Micah we’re still looking for my necklace if he knocks again. When he forces his way in, tell him I went off the balcony.”

Magret yanked down the curtains surrounding Raisa’s bed and began ripping them into strips. “I’ll make you a ladder, throw him off the scent,” she said grimly.

Grabbing a torch from the sconce on the wall, Raisa pushed her way into the closet, sliding between silks, satins, and velvets. She shoved aside the panel and entered the damp stone corridor, sliding the panel closed behind her. She prayed that Amon was waiting in the garden for her. With her luck, he’d given it up and gone home.

She ran as fast as she could, banging her elbows into the stone walls at the turnings, alert for the sounds of pursuit behind. How long could Magret hope to hold Micah off? Would he fall for the balcony ruse? She shuddered at the notion of being chased through the narrow twisting corridor.

The climb up the narrow ladder to the garden house was scary, as it always was, with the added burden of the saddlebags bumping against her sides. Finally she reached the top and pushed at the stone cover.

To her vast relief, someone gripped it from above and wrestled it away. Then Amon’s face appeared in the opening, taut and grim. “Where have you been?” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d come back and gone to bed without telling me.”

But still you stayed, Raisa thought with a rush of gratitude. Thank the Maker for Amon Byrne.

Amon gripped her hands and hauled her up through the opening, setting her down next to him on the garden house floor. “I’ve been crazy with worry up here. I had a feeling that…” He swallowed hard. “Well, anyway. What’s going on?”

Raisa opened her mouth and words poured out, in seemingly random order. “Lord Bayar has put a spell on the queen. I don’t know how. It’s as if the binding isn’t working. They’ve got a stash of magical pieces that predate the Breaking.”

“A spell?” Amon said. “What does he…?”

“He means to marry me off to Micah and name him king,” Raisa said. “They’ve got a priest and everything. Mama’s going along with it. I’d be married already, but I insisted on coming back to my room first. It won’t be long before they know I’m gone.” She grabbed his hand as if she could drag him away. “We’ve got to leave. Now.”

“But…?”

“I know. I’m not allowed to marry a wizard. But the Bayars don’t like the old rules. Seems they’re too confining. I’m going to have to leave the city until we can sort this out.”

Not just the city, Raisa thought. The queendom. She couldn’t take refuge with the clan. That would start a war between her parents and make the Fells vulnerable to invasion from the south.

Amon took her saddlebags and slung them over his own shoulders. “Let’s go. We’ve got to clear the drawbridge before they sound the general alarm.”

They clattered down staircase after staircase, incredibly loud in the early morning stillness, encountering the occasional sleepy-eyed upstairs servant. Each time, Raisa turned her face away, hoping to go unrecognized. It would cause talk at any time—the princess heir sneaking through back hallways with a soldier the morning after her name day party. They would be remembered, and it wouldn’t be long before the Bayars would know she hadn’t gone over the balcony, that she’d been seen with Amon Byrne. She didn’t wish it on Amon, to have the Bayars for enemies, but she was glad to have him at her side.

She needn’t have worried. Just like before, no one recognized the princess heir in breeches and tunic.

Down on the ground floor, the corridors were broader and there was even more traffic about. They forced themselves to walk, so as to be less conspicuous, though Raisa’s every nerve was firing. They passed through the Great Hall, where petitioners were already gathering in hopes of an interview with the queen.

They walked through the huge arch that led onto the drawbridge, passing under the portcullis. Raisa put a little space between her and Amon so they wouldn’t look like they were together. She might be a clanswoman, on her way back from a delivery to the castle. Amon might be a soldier on the way to his post.

They were midway across the river when she heard a clamor of bells and duty officers calling to one another. With a harsh metallic squeal, the portcullis descended until it slammed into the dirt.