The Crimson Crown (53 page)

“Your Majesty,” Kip said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Don’t try to fool him. Karn, I mean. He has spies inside the keep. They are always on the watch. So, whatever you do—”

“All right,” Raisa said. “We will make the trade at the Market Temple. It’s in the center of the burned-over area, to the south of the keep. It’s easy to pick out—it’s the only building standing. But Karn has to withdraw his troops between the keep and the temple. He must clear the entire area, understand me? I will come under a flag of truce, and I will bring a guard.”

“A guard.” Kip furrowed his brow. “Commander Karn said for you to come alone.”

“Commander Karn seems to think I am a fool,” Raisa said. “Does he think I’d send my sister back to the keep on her own?”

“You’re not really in a position to bargain, Your Majesty,” Kip blustered.

“As long as Karn wants something from me, he’ll have to make a trade,” Raisa said. “The keep hasn’t fallen—not yet. Tell him I’ll have people on the watch. Tell him not to try to fool
me
, because I will know.” She gazed at him for a long moment, then turned away. “Good-bye,
Lytling
Klemath. I will give orders that you are to be released back to your southern allies.”

“Your Majesty!” Kip called after her.

She paused without turning around.

“Shall I bring his answer back to you?”

Raisa shook her head. “I don’t want to see you again. If he agrees, have him fly a banner from the top of that disgusting gibbet of his. If he doesn’t, no response is necessary.”

“Raisa,” Kip said, the bluster gone from his voice. “I’m sorry it had to turn out this way. I had hoped, once, that you and I—that we might marry.”

Raisa didn’t trust herself to respond to that, so she stalked to the door and out, brushing past Amon, who all but had his ear to the door.

“Give Klemath safe passage back,” she said, without stopping. “I’m done with him.”

“Your Majesty!” Amon said. And then, “Raisa! Wait!”

She kept moving, up the stairs, through the duty room, out into the bailey, with Amon hard on her heels.

“You aren’t considering surrender,” Amon called after her. “Tell me you aren’t thinking of that.”

Lowering her head like a charging bull, Raisa crossed the bailey and climbed the steps to the Queen’s Tower, Amon trailing after her like a bluejacketed shadow, his jaw set and his expression grim.

Although she felt a dull certainty that Kip was telling the truth, she had to make sure for herself.

An unfamiliar guard was stationed outside Mellony’s door. She came to attention when she spied Raisa heading her way.

“Is the Princess Mellony here?” Raisa asked, without greeting or ceremony.

“No, ma’am,” the guard stammered. “I haven’t seen Her Highness since I came on duty. Somerset said she hadn’t returned to her rooms since late last night.”

“Who was supposed to be guarding her?”

“Well, ah, Your Majesty, we can’t spare the guards to escort her within the palace.”

Raisa knew that. Of course she knew that. She slammed open the door to Mellony’s suite. Her sister’s rooms were an odd mingling of childhood possessions and a new grown-up sensibility. Here were her porcelain dolls lined up on her dressing table, brought back by their father from Tamron on his trading trips. There were her paints, some left open and dried out now. Here were favors from some past tournament, pinned to her mirror. And pots of paint and powder, brushes and hair accessories, laid ready for use.

Raisa looked into Mellony’s bedchamber. The bed was made, her dresses still hanging in the wardrobe. She opened her jewelry box on the nightstand. Empty.

Raisa picked up her hairbrush and pulled a few glittering strands free, then blotted her eyes with the backs of her hands.

She turned back toward the door, to find Amon in the entryway. “What is it, Rai?” he asked. “What’s going on? What did Klemath say?”

Raisa could feel the crinkle of the note inside her bodice, the weight of the necklace. “Karn is holding the Princess Mellony. He’s willing to make a trade—me for her. If I don’t surrender, he’ll torture her to death. If I do, he says he’ll hold me hostage in the south.”

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Amon said. She could feel the hard pressure of his eyes from across the room.

“What does it matter what I believe?” Raisa murmured, tears stinging her eyes once again. She’d arrogantly challenged the fates—had tried to shape events to suit herself. She had tried to make a small claim upon the world—to marry for love.

Now Han was gone, and Mellony at risk.

Would she be required to sacrifice everything—every single person she cared about for this bloody throne?

Apparently so.

“Alister!” Crow crossed the dusty tower room to embrace him as soon as Han entered Aediion. “Are you all right? Where have you been? I was worried when you didn’t come.”

“I’m sorry,” Han said, touched by Crow’s eager reception. “I’m all right. It’s just that—there’s a lot going on.”

“I’m desperate to hear what happened between you and Bayar. I’ll want every detail.”

That seemed like an old story now, nudged into the background by Han’s present troubles. “I’ll tell you all about it—don’t worry. But right now I need some advice.”

Even as he said it, Han realized that this might be his last chance to speak with Crow. The plan to break the siege had already begun to unfold. Their small army had assembled in the highlands and was descending toward the Vale. A handful of others waited for him at the foot of Gray Lady, where they would launch their attempted penetration of Arden’s lines.

“Go on,” Crow said.

“Here’s the short of it: the Ardenine Army has Fellsmarch Castle surrounded, with Queen Raisa inside. A second army of mercenaries is waiting outside the city.”

Crow eyed him, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with you? You look pounded, for some reason.”

“What do you mean, for some reason? I just
said
—”

“No, no, no.” Crow shook his head. “No matter how hopeless the situation, you’ve never looked discouraged before. Did something happen?”

There was no way Han was going to tell Crow about Raisa and Micah’s betrothal. Crow would tell Han to kill Micah, which was already too tempting as it was.

“Maybe I’ve finally realized there’s no way to win this. We need to get into Fellsmarch Castle somehow, past the army. We’ll be using glamours, of course, but I know they’ll have wizards on the watch, looking for that. If we can’t cause some kind of distraction, I don’t expect many of us will survive crossing the Vale. With our numbers, we can’t afford to lose anybody.”

“Why don’t you use the tunnels?” Crow said. “Or have they been blocked off?”

Han shook his head. “The tunnels will take us to Hanalea Peak, or to the foot of Gray Lady, but we need to get into the city.”

Crow’s expression said that Han was being rather thick. “No, I mean the ones under the Vale, that go from Gray Lady to Fellsmarch Castle.”

“There are tunnels that go to Fellsmarch Castle?”

“Well, yes, of course,” Crow said. “How do you think Hanalea and I escaped to Gray Lady at the time of our marriage? Did you think I used magic?” He snorted.

“I…I didn’t know how you did it,” Han confessed.

“How do you think we managed to keep our relationship a secret for so long?” Crow said. “There are too many eyes and ears in a palace—too many tongues wagging. The Bayars made sure I never got near the queen. And so, of course, I created my own path.”

Han recalled what Lucius had said, how Alger Waterlow and Hanalea
ana
’Maria had trysted in the rooftop garden. He had assumed that Alger was staying somewhere in the palace at the time.

“Where does the tunnel come out? At the castle end, I mean,” Han asked, a tiny flame of hope kindling within him.

“In the queen’s bedchamber, of course,” Crow said, his clothes glittering up a bit. “At least, it was the queen’s bedchamber at that time. Under the conservatory, as I’ve said. Of course, there’s no telling whether it still exists.”

“Queen Raisa’s bedchamber is still under the conservatory,” Han said. “She said she liked the access to the garden.” He’d never seen her coming and going from the garden. She’d just appeared there, as if by magic. Could that mean the tunnel still existed?

But would it be connected to the longer tunnel, the one Crow was describing? Or had it been closed off centuries ago?

“Was the tunnel hidden?” Han asked. “Did anyone else know about it? Were there magical traps in that one, too?”

“It was well hidden. I relied on that, rather than magical traps to protect it. Hana and I had an agreement that if they tried to force a marriage with Kinley, she would escape through the tunnel to my holdings on Gray Lady. So it wouldn’t do to have magical hazards along the way that she couldn’t manage.”

Han’s mind churned with plans. If the tunnel still existed, Raisa and Mellony could be smuggled out of the castle to Gray Lady before the battle ever began. It could be a way to keep them safe—no matter what.

Safe so Raisa could marry Micah Bayar?

Quashing that thought, Han conjured up the map of Gray Lady that Crow had drawn for him. “Here,” he said, extending it toward Crow. “Show me how to get to the tunnel.”

What was proper attire for a hostage exchange? Raisa wondered. Should she dress for travel? Don intimidating royal plumage? Wear temple robes like a martyr in the old stories?

It depended on how long she expected to live after the exchange was made. Whether Karn intended to kill her now or later. Whether Karn would actually bring Mellony to the meeting or not.

In the end, she layered on light padding, the magicked armor Dancer had made for her, and the Gray Wolf cloak Willo Watersong had crafted for her coronation. Dog hovered so close, she almost stepped on him.

She dressed for battle and took her dagger and fighting staff with her.

She avoided Magret and the guards outside her door by using the tunnel exit to the rooftop garden. Dog followed her to the base of the metal staircase, then sat there, whining, as she climbed. Leaving the temple, she wove her way to the edge of the roof, looking down on her besieged city.

The city downslope from the castle close was blanketed by a thick layer of fog, pierced only by the tallest buildings. They floated magically atop the grounded clouds. Only the area immediately around the palace was clear. Overhead, thunderclouds rolled down over Hanalea, obscuring the waning moon, their undersides backlit by heat lightning. Raisa frowned. It was odd to see fog with the weather so hot.

To the south and west, the Market Temple punctured the mist—the tallest building between the castle close and Southbridge Temple, where Raisa had first met the streetlord Han Alister.

From what she could see, Karn had kept his promise to clear Ardenine soldiers from the area between palace and temple. But he could have an army hidden under that layer of mist.

Karn had mages. Could they have conjured this billowing shroud to hide flatland treachery?

Turning away from the view, Raisa descended the servants’ stairs to ground level.

Thunder rumbled over the Spirits as she crossed the deserted bailey. Perhaps the oppressive heat would finally break, on what might be the last day of her life.

She reached the shadows of the outside wall without being challenged, and followed the wall around to the postern gate. Still, her shoulders prickled as if she were being watched. She’d expected it, but…was it friend or foe? Or both?

She saw movement amid the shadows as her eyes adjusted to the murk. “Your Majesty.” It was Amon. The others murmured their greetings. She knew them by their voices, though all were cloaked up despite the heat. Mick. Talia. Pearlie. Cat. Nightwalker. Even Hallie, defying Raisa’s attempts to dissuade her. Hallie was the single parent of a three-year-old girl. Raisa had tried to talk her out of what would likely be a suicide mission.

“There’s lots in the guard have
lytlings
, Your Majesty,” she’d said. “I won’t stand down because of Asha. I’ve been with you this far. I’ll stay with you till…till this is over.”

“Your Majesty,” Amon said, making a last-ditch try for a change in plans. “Nightwalker and Mick took a walk around. It’s hard to tell in this murk, but it appears Karn has cleared the area of soldiers, as promised. This may be your best chance to leave the city. The rest of us will head for the temple. Talia will stand in for you. I think she’ll pass, cloaked up as we are, if anyone is watching. Likely none of the Ardenines have ever seen you in person.”

Raisa glanced at Talia, who hunched over gamely, doing her best to look short.

Perhaps encouraged by Raisa’s lack of objection, Amon went on. “You and Nightwalker wait here until we’re clear, then go the other way.” He thrust a bundle of cloth toward her. “These are Ardenine uniform tunics. Put ’em on and slip through the lines while it’s still dark.”

Raisa made no move to take the wadded cloth. “And my sister?”

“It’ll go just like we planned,” Amon said. “The archers will split off and take position on the temple roof. When they try to take Talia and the princess out of the temple, we’ll free them and take them back to the keep. Once you’re away safely, likely Karn will give up on the siege.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

Or kill everyone in the keep, Raisa thought. Including your betrothed, Annamaya.

“Mick,” Raisa said abruptly.

“Your Majesty?” he said, clearly startled, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Months ago, when assassins broke into my rooms and left Talia for dead, you said that you were honored to fight shoulder to shoulder with me. Right?”

Mick nodded, as if recognizing a trap. “Ri—ight.”

“Well, I am honored to fight shoulder to shoulder with all of you,” Raisa said. “I would not put you in danger if I did not hope to rescue my sister. I will not send you into danger while I remain in safety. I will go with you.” She raised a hand to quell a rising murmur of objection.