The Crimson Crown

  Lord Bayar slammed his hands on the table and pushed to his feet. “You cannot let your lust for a woman cloud your head!”

  Micah faced his father across the table. “Like you never did,” he said, his voice low and venomous.

  Lord Bayar went white to the lips, his blue eyes like sapphires against his pasty skin.

  “I’ll do this with you or without you,” Micah said. “I’ll get into bed with the bloody copperheads, too, if that’s what it takes.” He paused. “They have a wizard of their own, thanks to you.” Micah squared his shoulders and met his father’s frigid gaze, those eyes that had withered him so often in the past.

  Lord Bayar looked away first. He strode to the sideboard and splashed three fingers of brandy into a glass. He turned back to face Micah, a hint of grudging admiration in his eyes.

  “Very well, then. You’ve made your point. But I will not risk our limited gifted assets, as you call them, to break the siege on Fellsmarch castle without a commitment from the queen.”

  “Father,” Fiona began heatedly, “don’t listen to him. This is just another—”

  “Shut up, Fiona.” Lord Bayar shot a warning look at her and returned to the table. “All right, Micah,” he said. “Let’s see how persuasive you can be. Go down to the capital. Tell the queen that she must return with you to Gray Lady and marry you if she wants to save her skin. We will establish a court here and use all of our resources to drive the southerners and their allies from the Fells.”

  “And if she refuses?”

  “Then she’s on her own.” His father’s eyes glittered. “But I’m sure you won’t let that happen.”

  Micah eyed his father warily. “Where is the armory? I’ll need some kind of proof if I’m going to convince the queen.”

  “You’ll see it when you return. If you return. You’d best be on your way if you want to beat the southern army. Assuming your personal charm won’t win the day, take the Crimson Crown with you as proof.” He paused and tacked on a mocking smile. “We’ll tell your lady mother to prepare for a wedding. The woman needs something to do.”

  The conversation was over, Micah could tell. He stood, unsettled by this turn of events. His father and Fiona had teamed up in his absence. Could he trust his father to keep his promise?

  He really had no choice. Once the Ardenines established a cordon with their mages, it would be doubly difficult to spirit Raisa away.

  Resolve hardened within him. His father would keep his promise, one way or another. Micah tucked the Crimson Crown into his carry bag, still looking for a better hand to play. Clearly, his father wasn’t going to show him the armory. Might there be a way to find it on his own? Not that it would do him any good, by himself, but…“What about Alister?” Micah asked casually, drawing his riding gloves back on. “Is he still downstairs?”

  “The thief?” Lord Bayar cocked his head, as if surprised at the question. “He’s dead, of course.” He reached down, groping in the strongbox at his side, and came up with a cloth bag. He tossed it toward Micah, and it landed on the table with a clank. “Here are Alister’s belongings, save the Waterlow amulet,” he said. “Feel free to present them to the queen.”

  C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - N I N E

  QUEEN

  COUNSELOR

  Raisa’s decimated council awaited her in the hall where General Klemath had meant to ambush her. The assembly included Char Dunedain, Lassiter Hakkam, Amon, Cat, and Nightwalker, standing in for her father.

  Not a wizard among them. But two women, at least. That was progress, wasn’t it?

  Amon looked haggard—hollow-eyed with worry. He stood when Raisa entered, but when she waved them back to their seats, he sat and rested his hands on his trousered knees.

  Cat took the seat closest to the door. Raisa’s uncle, Lord Hakkam, sat as far as possible from Cat, radiating disapproval at her presence.

  “Let’s begin with General Dunedain,” Raisa said. “Char, can you give us an update?”

  “Private Abbott has returned,” Dunedain said. “She got in late last night, after you’d gone to bed.”

  “Thank the Lady,” Raisa said. A strong swimmer, Talia had volunteered to swim through the water gate and make contact with supporters outside. “Have you spoken to her? what did she say?”

  “I wish I had better news,” Dunedain said. “The Demonai harassed the flatlanders all the way through the mountains, but didn’t stop them. Then a group of young wizards ambushed Montaigne’s forces just as they descended into the Vale. They had some success, but Montaigne’s wizards launched a counterattack, and ours retreated. Some were captured, and were either conscripted or burned alive. The Ardenine Army broke through two days ago, and now they’re marching across the Vale with nothing between us and them save some loyalist farmers.

  “We expect Montaigne will be here day after tomorrow; in three days at the latest,” Dunedain continued. “We also received a bird from Chalk Cliffs. A small army of highlanders has collected there from the out-flung keeps, awaiting orders. There aren’t nearly enough to challenge Klemath’s mercenaries, let alone Montaigne’s oncoming army.”

  “We’ve received word from West Gate,” Amon said. “Apparently, Montaigne sent a small force up through Tamron, into the Fens, meaning to take the keep and prevent escape that way.” A faint smile came and went. “Dimitri Fenwaeter reports that Montaigne’s soldiers mysteriously disappeared in the misty marshes.”

  Once again, I owe Dimitri gylden, Raisa thought. I hope I live long enough to pay it back. “Have we heard from Gray Lady?” she asked.

  Amon shook his head. “I don’t think we can look for help from them. They’re not even responding to our messages.”

  “Why won’t they come?” Raisa wrapped her arms around herself. “Why wouldn’t they come now, before the Ardenine Army arrives?”

  Amon tightened his jaw. “I’m guessing they’re worried that if they leave Gray Lady undefended, Montaigne may detour and take advantage. If Montaigne’s wizards are still poorly equipped, he might hope to recover flashcraft from the Council House. With better weapons, he could win control of all of the Seven Realms.”

  “We could use better weapons ourselves right now.” Raisa paused, swallowing hard before she continued. “What about the High Wizard? Lord Alister? Is there any news of him?”

  Amon shook his head. “Nothing at all. Perhaps he’s on Gray Lady with the others.”

  “Maybe the Wizard Council will act once the flatlanders have committed themselves,” Lord Hakkam said.

  “Once they’ve surrounded us, you mean?” Raisa snapped. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Or…” Hakkam spread his fingers. “Perhaps we can still negotiate with King Gerard.”

  “Negotiate?” Nightwalker said. “Let him take his army back to the flatlands and dismiss his mercenaries, and then we will talk.”

  “Perhaps he felt that he had no choice but to invade, given the cost of the civil war in Arden and his need for capital,” Hakkam said. “Desperate men do desperate things. Arden, Tamron, and the Fells were joined once before—to everyone’s advantage. As long as the nobility retain their holdings and titles, it may be that life wouldn’t—”

  “We were joined under the rule of the Gray Wolf queens of the Fells,” Raisa said. “Not under the heel of Arden.”

  “We could propose a loose confederation,” Hakkam persisted. “Where each realm is independent, save for international affairs. King Gerard remains unmarried. A marriage between Queen Raisa and Gerard would raise our profile among the—”

  “The Fells is not yours to give away, Lord Hakkam,” Nightwalker said. “It is sacred ground.”

  “I’m not saying give it away,” Lord Hakkam blustered. “Just…lend it a while until we can regain our footing.”

  “You would give our queen away, too? Or is she a loan also?” Nightwalker snorted in disgust.

  Bless you, Nightwalker, Raisa thought.

  “No one likes this situation, but we
have to be realistic,” Hakkam said. He counted off on his jeweled fingers. “We have no army. The Wizard Council is in disarray. Montaigne has two armies, including mercenaries who know this queendom and its strongholds as well as we do. They also have gifted support, though we don’t know how much.”

  “Based on what we know about King Gerard, we can’t assume that the queen would survive a surrender for very long,” Amon said. “And if we negotiate from a position of weakness, we are unlikely to get anything we want.”

  Raisa smiled to herself. Amon was speaking up more in these conferences, growing into the counselor role his father had held. He’d come a long way from the solemn, quiet boy who’d returned from Oden’s Ford.

  His voice broke into Raisa’s thoughts. “Your Majesty. I think it’s time we discussed evacuating you to a safer place—if that’s still possible.”

  Raisa stiffened. Amon had raised this subject in private two nights before, and hadn’t liked her answer. Now he was bringing it up in public, hoping to find allies on the council. He was becoming downright devious, for a Byrne.

  She brought her chin up. “You are suggesting that I run away?”

  “I prefer to call it a strategic retreat, Your Majesty,” Amon said. He was Your Majestying her, meaning he was trying to keep emotion out of the conversation. But she noticed he was clenching and unclenching his right fist. “Nightwalker believes there is still time to get you and Mellony through the lines via the river. Once in the mountains, you can take refuge with Lord Averill at Demonai Camp and establish your government there. That’s the most impregnable place in the Fells. If Montaigne reaches those sanctuaries, it’s all over anyway. But even if that happens, you could escape via Westgate and the Fens.”

  Nightwalker came and knelt next to Raisa’s chair, looking into her eyes. “Please consider leaving the city before the southerners arrive, Your Majesty,” he said. “I have shadowcloaks that will conceal us. I promise that this seeming exile is only temporary. We will return you to the throne, I swear it. The flatlanders will regret they ever set foot here.”

  Raisa stood and walked to the window, leaning on the sill, trying to formulate an acceptable answer. She couldn’t say, I don’t want to be under the control of the Demonai. They were her family, after all.

  She turned around, leaning back against the sill. “And what would you be doing in the meantime, Captain Byrne?” she asked. She could Captain to his Your Majesty any time.

  Amon shifted his shoulders. “I would do what was best for queen and queendom,” he said. “Which is staying here to defend Fellsmarch Castle. If I come with you, it’s too likely we’ll be seen. We may still prevail in the end. But if you wait until Montaigne arrives, it will be more difficult to leave if you change your mind.”

  “What happens to the rest of us, then, when King Gerard realizes that the queen has fled?” Hakkam protested.

  “Lord Hakkam is right,” Raisa said, astounded to be allied with him. “I ran away before, and the Fells is still paying a price for it. How can I expect my people to suffer in my stead?”

  “They are suffering already,” Amon said. “They’ll suffer whether you survive or not. But if you remain free, you and the Demonai can lead a counterinsurgency against Montaigne.”

  “I am done with being a fugitive,” Raisa said. “We are in this fix because we have been splintered as a people since the Breaking. If we all worked together, we would have a chance. I intend to win this thing or die trying. If we can’t come together and defeat a flatlander army, then maybe we don’t deserve to exist as a sovereign nation.”

  Someone tapped on the door of the audience chamber.

  What now? Raisa grumbled to herself, but called out, “Come!”

  The door swung wide, revealing Mick and Hallie, and, behind them, a familiar tall figure. Raisa’s heart stuttered.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty,” Hallie said. “But when this one found out the council was meeting, he insisted on being announced.”

  “Micah!” Raisa said, taking a step toward him.

  “Bayar!” Lord Hakkam surged to his feet, visibly brightening. “Do you bring news from Gray Lady? Is the council intending to offer us any relief?” He peered past Micah as if hoping to see an army of wizards behind him.

  Micah Bayar bowed low, his stoles brushing the stone floor. “Your Majesty,” he said, ignoring Hakkam’s outburst. “I meant to be here sooner, but it is more difficult than ever to get in to see you.” He straightened, his intense gaze sweeping Raisa from top to toe.

  “Really?” Nightwalker said, tilting his head back so he could look down his nose at Micah. “Some of us have never left the queen’s side.”

  Micah’s gaze flicked to Nightwalker. “Some of us have other roles and responsibilities,” he said.

  “How did you manage to break through the perimeter?” Hakkam persisted, perhaps hoping to take the same road out.

  “I used a glamour,” Micah said. “I think they are less concerned with people slipping in than slipping out. Still, I had to kill two sentries.”

  If Micah had swum the moat or tunneled underground to get into Fellsmarch Castle, he’d cleaned up for his appearance here. The linen shirt under his coat was pristine, his trousers freshly pressed, and his mane of hair shone under the light from the torches. And yet—Raisa squinted at him—yes. He’d taken a blow to the face. There was a bruise on his cheekbone, and his nose was slightly swollen on one side.

  “I do bring news from Gray Lady—unfortunately, it is mostly bad,” Micah continued. He gestured toward the table. “May I sit?”

  “Please do,” Raisa said, recovering enough to motion him to a vacant seat. She resumed her seat at the head of the table.

  Micah settled into a chair. He seemed jittery, haggard, taut as a bowstring.

  “I have to admit that the Wizard Council was unprepared for this sequence of events,” he said. “We should have been more alert to the possibility of General Klemath’s treachery. When the southerners invaded, we lost many of the gifted in the mountains. Some, they took captive. Others, they burned alive.”

  “Montaigne will pay for that, I promise,” Raisa said. She wasn’t sure how she could bring that off, but he would pay.

  Micah inclined his head in acknowledgment. “The fact that Montaigne is using captive wizards in his campaign makes the situation even more dire. Gray Lady is an armed camp.”

  “The situation is dire here, too,” Lassiter exclaimed. “Will the council send help to us before it’s too late?”

  “No,” Micah said flatly. “They won’t.”

  Everyone began talking at once, asking questions, expressing disbelief and dismay.

  “Let him finish!” Raisa shouted, and the hubbub died down. “What’s going on, Micah? Why aren’t they coming?”

  With a grateful glance at Raisa, Micah pushed on. “This couldn’t have come at a worse time. The council is in total disarray. The leadership—” He cleared his throat. “This is—difficult,” he said, looking down at his hands. “Some of you already know that the council had launched an internal investigation of the new High Wizard, Lord Alister, who has been implicated in the recent murders of the gifted in the city.”

  “What?” Lord Hakkam glared around the table. “I was unaware of this!”

  “Hunts Alone? Really?” Nightwalker leaned forward, intent. “When all along you were blaming us.”

  Micah gazed at Nightwalker, expressionless. “Let me speak. You’ll have an opportunity soon enough.” He paused, and when no one spoke, went on. “Alister found out about the charges pending against him,” he said. “When my father and sister returned to Aerie House after the council hearing, he was waiting. He attacked and tried to murder my father.”

  After a moment’s stunned silence, Raisa choked out a single word. “What?”

  Micah nodded, his black eyes glittering against his chalky skin. “He nearly succeeded. As some of you know, this is the second time he has assaulted Lord Bayar.??
? He fixed his eyes on Raisa, as if willing her to believe him. “My father had no choice,” he said. “No choice.”

  Raisa stared at Micah. In her head, a voice clamored No-no-no-no. She stood, gripping the edge of the table for support. When she opened her mouth, the words stopped up in her throat so that Amon Byrne had to ask the question.

  “What are you saying, Bayar?” he said. “What happened?”

  “Alister is dead,” Micah replied. “My father killed him.”

  C H A P T E R F O R T Y

  FEVER DREAMS

  The room erupted into a cacophony of voices.

  “Alister’s dead?” Lord Hakkam sputtered, as if offended by the inconvenience of it all. “Already?”

  Amon gripped Raisa’s shoulders, holding her upright so she wouldn’t fall. “Do you have proof of this?”

  Micah nodded. “We took these off of Alister’s body.” He thrust his hand into his coat, pulling out a cloth bag, and dumped two objects onto the table, their chains clanking. One was Han’s Lone Hunter amulet. The other was the copper talisman with his streetlord symbol on it—the one Dancer had made to replace the one he’d lost.

  Raisa stared at them, horrified. Anguish sluiced through her, scouring everything else away.

  “Alister wore two amulets,” Micah said. He poked at the Lone Hunter piece with his forefinger. “This one and another—a serpent amulet he stole from us. That one is old flash—a family heirloom. We kept that one since we’re going to need all of the old flash we can get.”

  “You’re a liar, Bayar!” Cat spat. “Cuffs didn’t never try to murder you!” She lunged across the table at Micah. Micah threw himself sideways, rolling as he hit the floor. He came to his knees with one hand on his amulet, the other extended toward Cat.