The Exiled Queen (49 page)

When Askell didn’t answer, Han turned to face him, leaning his backside against the window frame. The master looked perplexed. “Are you talking about Rebecca?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” Han said. “I saw them carrying out the body.”

Askell shook his head. “We found four bodies, in fact, two men, two women, none of them students, though they all wore cadet uniforms. One was in here. He seems to have smashed his head against the table during a struggle. The other three were outside, and they appear to have been killed with wizardry.”

“What?” Han stared at Askell. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Askell shrugged. “There are many things in this world that don’t make sense,” he said. “Rebecca may be dead, but we did not find her body.”

DETOURS

Raisa opened her eyes to darkness and motion and the stench of damp wool. She felt dizzy and confused. Her head pounded, and her mouth tasted like the dregs of a bad barrel of cider. She tried to raise her arms, but they were wrapped tight in fabric, confined close to her body, and a hood was pulled up over her head so she couldn’t see.

She was on horseback, riding double. She could feel the heat of another body against her back. She struggled to free her arms so she could yank off the hood, and Micah Bayar slid an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

“You’re finally awake,” he said, his lips close to her ear. “Careful you don’t fall off. We’re aboard Raider, and it’s a long way to the ground.”

As the rest of her senses awakened, she became aware of the sound of horses in motion around her—hooves on a hard-packed road, the squeak of saddle leather, the murmur of voices.

Raisa shook her head from side to side, trying to dislodge the hood. That set her head to pounding with the headache typical of a turtleweed hangover. For an awful moment she thought she might spew over the both of them.

“Where are we?” she asked, when the danger had passed.

“We’re north of Oden’s Ford, on the road to Fetters Ford,” Micah said. He tugged the hood back so she could see, and the fresh air helped. They rode through dense forest, the canopy of trees nearly meeting overhead.

Raisa looked around. Switcher followed behind on a lead line, loaded with supplies. Ahead she could see the rest of the party, four other riders who must be the Mander brothers, Fiona, and one other wizard.

“Who’s that?” she asked. “With Fiona and the Manders?”

“Wil Mathis,” Micah said. “He asked to come north with us.”

Raisa knew Wil from court. He was sloppy and good-natured, unusual for a wizard. Two years older than the Bayar twins, he’d been in love with Fiona for as long as Raisa could remember.

They each led a spare horse, carrying baggage and supplies. Off to the right, through the trees, Raisa caught glimpses of water. That would be the east branch of the Tamron River.

“What day is it?” she asked.

Micah laughed softly. “You haven’t been sleeping that long, Your Highness. It’s the day after we met in the Wien Hall library. We left in the middle of the night. I expect we’ll be four days to Fetters.”

“Will you... Will we head up through Demonai Vale, then?” she asked. That would provide another opportunity, if she could somehow get away.

“No,” Micah said. “We’ll go east, skirting the mountains, and up through Delphi. I have no desire to meet up with any of the Demonai.” He snapped his reins and their horse picked up the pace to catch up with the others. Even though Raisa was small, Raider was feeling the burden of carrying two riders.

Was there any chance Amon would come after her? It seemed unlikely. Until now, she’d managed to avoid Micah Bayar and the other wizards from Fellsmarch. Amon would have no reason to suspect them. Maybe he’d even think she’d decided to go home on her own. No doubt he’d be searching for her, but he’d have no idea where to look.

Would his magical connection tell him she was in trouble? Might it lead him to her? She prayed it would, but worried what would happen if it did.

They stopped for lunch in a small clearing between the road and the river. They did not build a fire. Raisa, Micah, and Fiona stood among the trees, eating cold meat, bread, and cheese, and washing it down with cider while Wil and the Mander brothers grained the horses and led them down to the river to water them.

“Now that I’m awake, maybe I should ride Switcher, so Raider doesn’t tire,” Raisa said.

“Oh no, Your Highness, I’m enjoying our time together, and hope you are too,” Micah said, brushing his lips across her cheek. “I think Raider understands.”

Micah might be arrogant, but he’d never been stupid.

It was a cloudy, cool spring day, the air so laden with moisture it was like breathing underwater. Raisa shivered, her skin pebbled with goose bumps, though it wasn’t that cold. She swiped wet tendrils of hair off her face, feeling unsettled.

Fiona did her best to ignore Raisa’s presence, but her disapproval was palpable. Clearly, she believed the assassins should have been allowed to do their job.

Raisa stared out into the surrounding forest, trying to ignore Fiona. The dry bread and cheese were hard to choke down. Shadows moved under the trees. She blinked, and they were still there, gray shapes sliding through the mist. Gray wolves.

It seemed she was seeing them more and more—but maybe that was a reflection of the way her life was going. Were they there because of her present predicament? Or did they signify some new threat?

The wolves surrounded her, tongues lolling, ears flat, bumping their great heads against her middle, nearly knocking her over.

“Great lot of good you do me,” she grumbled. “Why can’t I teach you to attack wizards on command?”

“Excuse me, Raisa?” Micah said. He touched her arm, looking a little concerned. “Were you speaking to me?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

She swiveled, scanning the woods around them. Even in spring, with some trees not yet leafed out, Tamron Forest seemed thick and oppressive, crowding in on all sides. Too close.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” Micah asked. “You’re not eating.”

“Do you hear anything?” Raisa asked. The forest around them was silent, even the birds had gone eerily quiet. The hair stood up on her arms.

“Micah,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “Let’s go. Something’s wrong. I think we’d better...”

Her voice failed as soldiers stepped out of the forest on all sides, crossbows cocked and ready.

“Put your hands in the air. Now!” shouted a young man with dark hair and mud-brown eyes. A red officer’s scarf was knotted around his neck, and a red hawk was emblazoned on his tunic.

Micah and Fiona glanced at each other, then slowly raised their hands. The others, including Raisa, followed suit.

The soldiers were clad in wool uniforms that had seen hard use. Some wore mismatched armor pieces, others had none. Some bore the red hawk, others were unmarked. From their haggard appearances, they’d been on the road for months. Could this be one of the roving bands of mercenaries Amon had warned her about?

“Don’t even think of touching those jinxpieces,” the officer went on.

Micah leaned toward Fiona. “He’s gifted,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“I noticed,” she snapped. “What is the meaning of this?” Fiona demanded, glaring at the officer. “Who are you?”

“Collect their jinxpieces and any other weapons you find,” the officer said to his men, ignoring Fiona. “Don’t touch the pendants directly. Hold ’em by their chains.”

The soldiers went from person to person and collected the wizards’ amulets, daggers, and swords. When he came to Raisa, she shook her head.

“I don’t have an amulet,” she said. “Nor any weapons. Sorry.”

The soldier glanced at his officer, who said, “She won’t have one. She’s not gifted.”

The soldier patted her down anyway, coming up empty-handed, of course, because she’d lost her belt dagger in the library.

When they were all disarmed, the officer motioned to his men to put down their crossbows, though they kept their hands on their swords. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Marin Karn, Commander of the Army of the King of Arden.”

Which king? Raisa wanted to ask, but didn’t.

“Arden!” Micah tilted his head. “But we’re in Tamron. Arden is across the river.”

“Damn!” Commander Karn said, grinning. “Guess we went astray again, boys.”

The other soldiers snorted with laughter.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Fiona said. “You’re a wizard. But wizardry is forbidden in Arden. You burn wizards in.. .”

“Aye,” Karn said, nodding. “That’s so. The church has strict rules against it.”

Fiona frowned. “Then how can there be gifted soldiers in the king of Arden’s army?” she persisted.

Karn shook his head. “Oh no, we’d never admit to that. Most who come up against us don’t survive to tell tales. Those that survive don’t remember. And only wizards can recognize others with the gift.”

“So you’re using wizardry in the Ardenine Wars,” Raisa whispered.

“We are just getting started,” Karn said. “We’ve more than a dozen jinxflingers. Many are young, recruited on their way to Oden’s Ford. Most haven’t had any training. Some don’t have amulets. That’s where you come in.”

“What do you mean?” Micah said.

“I’m guessing you’re students from Oden’s Ford. You’ve been getting top-notch training at the academy there. We want you to teach our recruits spellcasting.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Micah said, glancing at Raisa. “We have pressing business in the Fells, and we can’t risk getting involved in your civil war.”

Karn seemed unfazed. “Think hard before you say no,” he said. “We’ve hundreds of soldiers camped this side of the river, and an army several thousand strong on the other side.” He looked toward the river and came to attention. “Here comes the king now.”

A small group of men walked toward them from the riverbank. Four burly men, armored up and carrying weapons, surrounded a slender man in a tunic emblazoned with the red hawk signia, silver gauntlets, and breastplate, a sword belted at his waist. He wore a circlet of gold on his light brown hair, and his blue eyes were pale blue and cold as the ice in Invader’s Bay.

It was Prince Gerard Montaigne, the youngest of the warring Montaigne brothers, Raisa’s unsuccessful suitor at her name day party.

“Hanalea in chains,” Raisa muttered. Could things get any worse?

She yanked her hood over her head and stared at the ground, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her. Surely he wouldn’t, not here, so out of context.

Why was Gerard Montaigne in Tamron? And why did he have his army collected just across the border? He should be back in Ardenscourt, facing off with his brothers.

Karn bowed to his king. “Your Majesty. We have five jinxflingers from Mystwerk.”

“Good,” Montaigne said, his eyes flicking over Micah and the others. “Have you explained to them the services we require?”

“The answer is no,” Fiona said, straightening to her full height. “Now release us immediately.”

Montaigne moved, quicker than light, smashing his gauntleted arm into Fiona’s face and knocking her to the ground.

Micah leaped forward, but Wil Mathis was closer. With a cry of rage, he sprang at the prince of Arden, who drew his sword and calmly ran him through.

Wil and Montaigne ended face-to-face, a foot separating them, Wil’s eyes bulging wide in amazement. Then Montaigne shoved him away with his booted foot, freeing his sword. Wil teetered, then fell backward, hit the ground, and lay still, blood pooling around him.

“Wil!” Fiona cried, trying to scramble to her feet, but Micah knelt next to her, gripping her shoulders and holding her in place.

“No,” he said fiercely. “You can’t help him.”

“Does anyone else wish to have a conversation about this?” Montaigne asked.

No one moved and no one spoke. Raisa had to bite her lip to keep her acid tongue in check. Wizard or not, Wil had always been among the best of the breed. More than that, he was a citizen of the Fells, and so, her responsibility.

Montaigne paced back and forth in front of them, his sword in his hand. “Now that we understand each other, perhaps we can do business. Captain Karn has convinced me that jinxflingers will be useful in bringing this long war to a conclusion. If he is right, it may be that we will only require your services for a limited time.”

He’ll never let them go, Raisa thought. Gerard Montaigne will always have use for an army.

“Like I said, think hard before you say no.” Karn ran his eyes over the captives. “So, what’ll it be?”

“All right,” Micah said abruptly, standing. “We will teach your charmcasters what we know, and aid you in any way we can. The sooner you achieve victory, the sooner we can be on our way. Bear in mind that we are just first-years, so our knowledge is limited.”

He walked forward and put a hot hand on Raisa’s shoulder. “I would, however, ask you to release our servant. She is not gifted, and so would be of no help to you.”

Raisa froze, scarcely breathing. Was Micah really trying to engineer her release? She turned her head slightly so she could see his face. His expression didn’t change, but she felt the pressure of his fingers as he squeezed her shoulder.

“Your... servant, is she?” Montaigne said. He looked at Karn, and he nodded.

“She is not gifted, Your Majesty. I wondered why she was traveling with them.”

Montaigne restored his sword to its scabbard, not bothering to wipe off the blood. Raisa kept her head down, peering up through her lashes at the prince of Arden. He toyed with the hilt of his sword, his lower lip caught behind his teeth.

“Well,” he said finally, “let’s have a look at you.” He reached toward Raisa and tugged back her hood.

Raisa lifted her head, and their eyes met. They stood staring at each other, and then Gerard Montaigne smiled in his bone-chilling way. Raisa’s heart plummeted.

“Ah, Karn,” he said softly. “You have overlooked the greatest prize of all.”

Karn looked from Raisa to Montaigne. “What do you mean, Your Grace? Who is she?”

Montaigne kept his eyes fixed on Raisa’s face. Taking hold of her hand, he raised it to his lips. “Princess Raisa ana’Marianna,” he murmured. “Welcome to the new kingdom of Arden.”

Karn looked from Raisa to Montaigne. “She’s a princess?”

Montaigne nodded. “We met at her debut party nearly a year ago. She is heir to the throne of the Fells.” His eyes raked over her. “She was dressed quite differently last time I saw her, but there’s no mistaking her.” His grip tightened about her wrist. “But why would the princess heir of the Fells ride through Tamron with wizardlings?”

Raisa knew there was no point in continuing to deny her identity. “I’ve been attending the academy at Oden’s Ford,” she said. “I’m traveling home for the summer.”

Montaigne shook his head incredulously. “The Fells would send a gently bred woman through Tamron with no more guard than this?” He gestured toward the Bayars and the Manders.