The Gray Wolf Throne

  “Please, hear me out,” he said, “and consider what I say carefully.” In a louder voice he said, “I’m going to remove my amulet now, so please don’t run me through.” Slowly, his eyes on the Gray Wolves, he lifted his amulet over his head and set it down on a stone bench in the garden. Then he sat at the other end of the bench and placed his hand on the stone next to him. “Sit with me. Please. Your guard can remain in sight, but far enough away that we won’t be overheard. If I try anything, they can lope over and lop off my head.”

  Raisa hesitated, biting her lip. “How do I know you don’t have another amulet hidden on your person?” she said.

  Micah smiled faintly. “Have mercy, Your Highness,” he said. “I could strip, but it is a chilly evening. Besides, you seem to have an immunity to any magic I can conjure.” He raised an eyebrow.

  Raisa debated telling him that her guard could hear whatever he wanted to tell her. And yet she found she wanted to hear what Micah had to say—something he wouldn’t say in front of her guard. She had the feeling she would learn something useful.

  Raisa wondered what Amon and Han would think of this idea. Then decided she didn’t want to follow that thought any further.

  “All right,” she said. Turning to her guard, she said, “Stay here, and stay alert.”

  Raisa walked over and sat down on the bench next to Micah, leaving a little distance between them. “What is it?”

  Micah studied her for a long moment. “I am disarmed, Your Highness. I am totally without my usual weapons.”

  “You are never without weapons,” Raisa said.

  He tilted his head toward the guards. “What I mean, is, I’m not used to meeting beautiful girls under so many pairs of eyes.”

  Raisa half rose. “Is that what you think this is? If so, then—”

  “Please. Sit.” Micah waved her back down. “I apologize. I never seem to know what to say to you anymore.”

  “You could start by telling me the truth.” Raisa drew her jacket more closely about her shoulders. “I’ve grown up. I no longer respond to flattery.”

  “I spoke the truth,” he said. “But I suspect you are looking for a different kind.” He looked down at his hands. “I want to start over,” he said. “I want to ask permission to court you.”

  Raisa just stared at him wordlessly. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “After everything that’s happened between us, now you expect me to accept you as a suitor?” she said finally.

  “I’m tired of pushing myself on you,” he went on. “I’m not used to it, and it is humiliating.”

  “There are lots of girls at court. Why do you feel the need to push yourself on me?” Raisa asked. “Are you under pressure from your father?”

  Micah gazed at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Yes,” he said. “If you want the truth. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for myself.”

  There was a smudge of dirt on Raisa’s breeches, on the inside of her thigh. She licked her thumb and rubbed at it, then looked up to find Micah’s eyes on her. She brought her knees together and dropped her hands in her lap.

  “What is it you hope to gain by courting me?” Raisa asked.

  Micah raised his dark brows. “What is the usual objective of courtship, Raisa?”

  “There are any number of possibilities, as you well know,” Raisa said irritably. “In our case, we cannot marry, and so—”

  “I would beg you to keep an open mind on that,” Micah said. “You are the queen now, or soon will be. For a thousand years we have been imprisoned by the past. You have the power to make changes. The future is in your hands, if you will only seize it.”

  Raisa tilted her head. “So, having failed at forcing me into a marriage, you hope to take me by persuasion this time?”

  “I like to think,” he said, “that had I tried that first, I might have succeeded.”

  “I’m not the only person you have to persuade,” Raisa said. “Do you think you could win over my father? Or Elena Demonai?” She rolled her eyes, picturing that interview.

  “You are the first person I need to win,” Micah said. “I’ll worry about them when you say yes.”

  “Well, I have to worry about them now,” Raisa snapped.

  “They are not the only people you need to worry about.” Micah closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Don’t you realize the danger you’re in?” he said, eyes still closed.

  “Maybe not. Is there something you want to tell me?” Raisa said, putting her hand on his arm. “Who killed my mother, Micah? Who is trying to kill me?”

  Micah leaned in close, speaking into her ear so his breath stirred her hair and warmed her cheek. “I don’t know who killed the queen,” he said. “And if I knew for sure who was trying to kill you, I would handle it myself.”

  Against all reason, Raisa believed him.

  “Well, then.” Raisa shifted away from him. “Come back when you have those answers.”

  Micah hissed out an irritated breath. “I can’t protect you if you won’t let me near you.”

  “Based on your history, why should I feel safer with you?” Raisa muttered.

  “I’m just saying it would be safer if you were a little less outspoken. If you seemed to go along with things a little more. If it seemed like there was a chance that you might…accept me. If you threw the gifted a bone.”

  “Like what?” Raisa demanded. “Crowning you king?”

  Micah raised his hands, palms out. “Take this whole business of naming a street thief to the Wizard Council. The council is enraged. They take it as a lack of respect. They think you’re tweaking them on purpose.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” Raisa narrowed her eyes. “You Bayars wanted me to appoint Fiona instead?”

  “Fiona has her faults, but she would be a far better choice than Alister,” Micah said. “Trust me, you won’t rest easy with him looking out for your interests. He is in this for his own gain.” He paused. “You must know that there are all kinds of sordid rumors flying around about you and that thief. The last thing I heard was that you’d named him to the peerage and handed him a holding on the Firehole River.”

  Raisa’s cheeks burned. “What do you think, Micah? Are you listening to the rumors?”

  Micah dismissed that possibility with a flick of his hand. “I know better than that. I can’t imagine you would have any interest in a street thug. But none of this helps. He’s a wizard. If the copperheads believe you’re bedding Alister, he’ll end up in some ravine with a Demonai arrow through his eye. If you’re going to be linked to a wizard, at least let it be someone who’d have the support of the council. Alister has no support from anyone.” He paused, eying her as if debating asking the question. “Why is he here, Raisa? What do you see in him? Why does he have access to you and I do not?”

  Micah reached for Raisa’s hand, then jerked his hand back as if recalling that his touch might not be welcome. He flexed his hand, rubbing his fingertips against his palm, releasing tension.

  “You pardoned him for trying to kill my father,” Micah went on. “Have you asked yourself who’s murdering wizards in the city now? Need I remind you that the killings commenced about the time he returned to the Fells? And that the bodies have been left in his old neighborhood?”

  Raisa’s stomach flipped unpleasantly. “It is easy to fling accusations,” she said. “That’s all I’ve heard for weeks. I’ll tell you what I told the Demonai when they accused your family of murdering my mother. Bring me some evidence and I will act.”

  “We are watching him,” Micah said. “Sooner or later, he is going to make a mistake.”

  They sat in stony silence for a long moment.

  Han was right, Raisa thought. If people come to believe that there is anything serious between us, it will be his death and maybe mine.

  Make them think you hate me, he’d said. She wasn’t sure she could pull that off. But maybe she could introduce some doubt.

  “Look,” she
said. “Alister won’t be a problem if you let me handle this my own way. I’m juggling a lot of competing interests right now. Putting him on the council was part of a larger bargain—the least of evils. It was the price I had to pay for a bit of peace.”

  “I knew it!” Micah said, pounding his fist into his palm. “Who’s backing him? Who’s he working for? Abelard?”

  Raisa shook her head. “I’m not going to discuss this any further. I’ve said too much already. Now, if there’s nothing else… ?” She made as if to rise.

  Micah held up his hand to stay her. “I’ve already admitted that I wish you had named Fiona to the council instead,” he said. “But that is not what this is all about. That is not why we are holding this conversation. I’m just trying to give you some helpful advice. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want that on my conscience.” His face was parchment pale, his black eyes bright and hard as obsidian.

  Raisa leaned forward. “Micah, if you know of some threat to the Gray Wolf line, it is your duty to tell me. Or prevent it. Or bring it to the Queen’s Guard.”

  Micah shook his head, released a sigh, and stood, lips tight, his face hard and bleak. “You really don’t understand, do you?” he said in a low, bitter voice. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do—keep you alive. I’ve risked everything for you—my family and my future. All you need to do is show a bit of…flexibility. But, no. You’ll get yourself killed, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

  Raisa shivered, her jacket no longer sufficient to keep her warm. There had been—what—four or five attempts on her life since Lord Bayar’s assassins came to Oden’s Ford? How long before somebody succeeded?

  Beyond Micah, in the shadowy garden, gray shapes milled and circled, their eyes catching the torchlight, reflecting it back like temple candles.

  A turning point. A critical choice. But what is the right one?

  Micah might be here on his father’s orders. He might have come to persuade her to reverse her decision and name Fiona to the council. He might be trying to frighten her into doing the bidding of the Wizard Council. He might hope to fool her into receiving him as a suitor.

  All of those things might be true, but Micah had saved her life more than once. For whatever reason, he seemed to have an interest in keeping her alive.

  She’d been impatient, and lost her temper with the Queen’s Council. It might feel good to antagonize Lord Bayar, but she could pay a high price. She needed to better cement her position before she made any more enemies.

  She considered the cost of playing the game. She wouldn’t swap Fiona for Han Alister on the Wizard Council. She didn’t want three Bayars on the council, and she’d given her word to Han.

  “Thank you for your time, Your Highness,” Micah said, interrupting her mental debate. “Good evening.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Raisa said, pushing to her feet.

  He half turned and stood waiting.

  There was one thing she could do—a calculated decision in a situation that demanded a cold heart and a clear head. Something that might stay any action against her long enough for her to build her own defenses.

  “You have persuaded me, Micah,” Raisa said. “To this degree—if you are truly worried about my safety, you may tell your family that I have agreed to allow you to court me—with discretion. That I am guardedly receptive to your overtures. I will do my best not to contradict that story in public. But I’m not making any promises beyond that.”

  He inclined his head, his face expressionless.

  “We cannot wave it like a bloody flag in front of the Spirit clans. And given your history, I’m sure you understand why I cannot risk being alone with you.”

  “I accept those terms,” Micah said. “But I’m giving you fair warning—I will do my best to change your mind.”

  “I’m giving you fair warning—sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose between me and your father. Whatever happens between us, you’ll have to decide where your ultimate loyalty lies.”

  “I have already decided, Your Highness.” Micah bowed, then turned and walked away, losing himself in the shadows.

  Raisa stood, looking after him, wondering if she’d made the right move. Would she be able to convince Lord Bayar that she’d accepted Micah as a suitor, hide that from the clans, and still keep him at a distance?

  Would she be strong enough to keep him at a distance?

  Back in the palace, Raisa found Han Alister waiting at the door to her room, chatting with the bluejackets stationed there. Cat Tyburn was with him, but Raisa wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t thrown back her head and laughed her throaty laugh just as Raisa arrived.

  Cat was wearing a dress—had Raisa ever seen her in a dress?—flouncy and in a deep apricot that set off her dark skin. Bangles graced both wrists, and her hair was raked back into a twist. Her lips were rouged dark as black raspberries.

  Raisa and her entourage skidded to a halt in front of the door.

  Han bowed, and Cat managed a curtsy. “Your Highness,” Han said. “Lady Tyburn and I hope you can spare a few moments.” He tilted his head toward her door. “In private?”

  “L—Lady Tyburn?” Raisa squinted suspiciously at the two of them. “Well—a few moments, I suppose,” she said. “I had some reading to do before supper.”

  They followed her into her privy chamber and waited until Mick closed the door behind them.

  Magret emerged from Raisa’s bedchamber. “Your Highness, I expected you back sooner. I wondered if you wanted to bathe before…” Her voice trailed off as she set eyes on Han and Cat. Her lips tightened into a hard line.

  “I’ll bathe after dinner, thank you,” Raisa said, poking through the envelopes on the tray inside the door. “You can be at leisure until then.”

  “I don’t mind staying, my lady,” Magret said, raising her eyebrows extravagantly. “You might need something, or perhaps your—guests—might need some refreshment.”

  “They won’t be staying that long,” Raisa said. “They won’t need entertaining.”

  Magret folded her arms. “Maybe it’s not my place, but it just isn’t safe to be in here alone with—”

  “You are dismissed, Magret,” Raisa said firmly. “I will see you after my late meeting.”

  Magret stalked out, muttering something that sounded like, “Jinxflingers and thieves. A queendom at her feet, and she consorts with jinxflingers and thieves.”

  At least she was too well bred to slam the door behind her.

  Well, Raisa thought, Micah Bayar was right about one thing—Han Alister has no support from anyone.

  “Hah!” Cat said, looking after Magret. “Most people don’t hate me until they get to know me.”

  “That’s Velvet’s aunt, Maiden Magret Gray,” Han said. “She blames me for what happened to him.”

  “That old fustiluggs is aunt to Velvet?” Cat rolled her eyes.

  Raisa dropped into a chair, suddenly exhausted and feeling besieged. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”

  “Cat wants to apply for a job,” Han said, giving Cat a nudge forward. “Don’t you?”

  “A job? What kind of job?” Raisa looked from Cat to Han.

  Cat curtsied again, her eyes downcast. “If you please, ma’am,” she said, “I’d like to be taken on as your chambermaid.”

  “You? A chambermaid?” Raisa said, astonished. “Ah—are you—are you qualified?”

  “Ma’am, I spent a year at the Temple School at Oden’s Ford,” Cat said. “And before that, I was at Southbridge Temple School, off an’ on. Speaker Jemson, he’ll give a reference. He was the one wanted me to go to Oden’s Ford, so I could get on as a lady’s maid. I can get references from the Ford, only that might take a while.”

  “Well. Um. That’s impressive,” Raisa said. “But I don’t usually do the hiring for—”

  “If you like music, I’m a rum player on the basilka,” Cat rushed on. “Also the harpsichord, mandolin, the lut
e, and recorder. And I can sing some, too.”

  “Cat, it certainly sounds like you are talented—”

  “Catarina,” Cat said. “That’s my given name. It goes better with the job.”

  “—but there is considerable competition for these kinds of positions,” Raisa went on. “My servants usually come to me with experience as a lady’s maid. Why should I hire you instead?”

  “Well. I know I would need training in that part,” Cat said. “I know you likely don’t hire maids from Ragmarket. Not directly, anyway.”

  “But Lady Tyburn has other talents,” Han prompted, raising his eyebrows at Cat.

  “You be quiet,” Raisa said to Han. She looked at Cat. “Whose idea was this?” she demanded. “Yours or his?”

  “Well, Cuffs, he asked me to apply,” Cat said. “And I thought, well it makes sense. Even if it’s a wizard comes after you, blades are quicker than jinxes.”

  “What?” Raisa’s head was beginning to ache.

  “See, I’m the best knife-fighter in the city, now Shiv Connor’s dead,” Cat said. Long wicked blades materialized in each of her hands. “You can ask anyone.”

  “We thought Catarina could be both chambermaid and bodyguard,” Han said. “Two for the price of one.”

  “How many bodyguards does a body need?” Raisa said, rubbing her temples. “I’ve got bodyguards stumbling all over each other.”

  “We need somebody inside your room,” Han said. “After what happened to Talia and Trey, I’m thinking a guard outside your door isn’t enough. I can’t always be right next door. And, so far, all of the attempts on your life have been with conventional means. Knives and swords and strangle-cords.”

  “I want to hear from Catarina,” Raisa said, waving a hand to hush Han. “Why should I hire you?”

  “Well.” Cat poked at the twist on the back of her head, tucking in a curl. “You have the bluejackets as bodyguards, I know. And Cuffs. But I think you need another blade up your sleeve. Someone who has connections all over the city. Somebody who has an ear to the ground and knows who’s hiring bravos and who’s to be hushed. Somebody that won’t stick out in the streets.” Cat cocked her head. “But that person’s got to be able to come and go inside the palace, too. And talk to all kinds of people. And do things on the quiet that maybe you don’t want folks to know about.”