The Crimson Crown (26 page)

Each accusation was like a blow striking unprotected flesh. Raisa wanted to put her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear any more.

She wanted to say,
Maybe Han is keeping secrets, but I don’t believe he burned Ragmarket. He’s too smart to leave his headquar
ters standing with the neighborhood in cinders. But maybe the Bayars would—to cast suspicion on him.

Instead, she said, “Those are serious allegations, Micah. But as I said before, what’s his motive, and where’s your proof?”

“How much proof do you need?” Micah hissed, exasperated. “You say you know what you’re doing, that you’re managing risk, but surely you don’t mean to keep Alister as your bodyguard. You should put him in prison, where he belongs. Or let us take him to Aerie House. A few days in our dungeons, and he’ll confess.”

“And how would the Wizard Council react to that—if I throw the new High Wizard into prison and torture him into confessing something he maybe didn’t do?” Raisa hesitated and then plunged on. “You’ve never liked to lose, Micah. Are you sure you are not taking Alister’s win on the council a bit too personally?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say there
is
something between you,” Micah growled. “I don’t know how else to explain why you persist in—”

“The rule of law is how I explain it,” Raisa said. “I don’t torture people and I don’t throw people in jail without evidence. Bring me proof or keep your accusations to yourself.”

“I intend to get proof, and if you won’t file formal charges against Alister, I will,” Micah said.

They rattled across the drawbridge and came to a stop within the castle close. The endless carriage ride was finally over.

Micah was staring straight ahead, his face as hard and chalky as marble, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Thank you for your candor, Micah,” Raisa said. “I will consider everything you’ve said, very carefully. That’s all I can promise.” Without waiting for her escort, she wrenched open the door of the carriage and slid to the ground.

Crow stared back at Han, his brilliant blue eyes narrowed in appraisal. “Let me be sure I understand you. You’ve decided to accept my bargain. You will allow me to possess you so that I can meet with Lucas.”

“That’s right,” Han said, shifting from one foot to the other. “The sooner the better.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t press you on this, but why the precipitous change of heart?”

“I managed to get elected High Wizard,” Han said. “Then Lord Bayar burned half the city. And now they’re trying to pin it on me.”

“Ah, those Bayars,” Crow said softly. “They are very good at shifting blame, are they not?” After a long strained pause, he added, “You’re not afraid that I’ll take advantage? That I’ll use you to take revenge on my enemies? Lay waste to the world and all that?”

That hit so close to the mark that Han flinched.

“Ah.” Crow grimaced. “So you
are
worried. And who could blame you? I’ve betrayed you once already. I’m a bitter and vindictive shade of a man, and my reputation—”

“Just shut it, and let’s get on with it,” Han growled. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

Crow rubbed the bridge of his nose, looked up at the bells overhead, and sighed. “Actually, you do have a choice.”

“What do you mean?” Han said, mystified.

“I apologize, Alister. I should have told you before.” Crow chewed on the words before he spit them out. “I don’t really need to possess you. You can bring Lucas to Aediion yourself.”

“He’s no longer gifted, remember?” Han said. “He can’t come here.”

“It’s possible to ferry the nongifted to Aediion,” Crow said. “Lucas and I used to play tricks on Wien House cadets when they were deep in their cups. We would take them to Aediion and leave them in a conjured-up world.”

“Really?” Han eyed him suspiciously. “Did that slip your mind or what?”

Crow brushed aside the question. “The important thing is, I can show you how to bring Lucas to me.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come?” Han said, recalling Lucius’s agitated reaction to the news that Alger Waterlow was still alive.

“We were the best of friends,” Crow said, as if baffled that Han would ask such a question. “Of course he’ll come.”

“I want to be there,” Han said. “I want to be there when you talk to Lucius. I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Well, of course you’ll be there,” Crow said, rolling his eyes. “You’ll be privy to all my sordid secrets. Now, since we’re in a hurry, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The charm was a variation on the one Han had used a lifetime ago to bring Abelard’s crew to Aediion. Except it would be just Han powering the journey.

“Make sure you have considerable power on board,” Crow said. “Don’t skimp. You don’t want to leave him stranded here.”

“It’ll be tomorrow sometime,” Han said. “Lucius never comes to town, so I’ll have to go up to his place.”

“I’ll be here. As always.” Crow turned away, dismissing him.

“Hold on,” Han said, standing his ground. “I still don’t get it. Why did you change
your
mind? Why did you tell me how to bring Lucius to Aediion? When I was ready to give you what you wanted?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“I was kind of hoping for it.”

“I was afraid.” Crow pinned Han with his blue-eyed gaze.

“Afraid?”

“I was afraid that once I had control of you, I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to take advantage. I was afraid of taking the revenge that I so richly deserve. And then I’d never forgive myself.”

To Han’s surprise, Adam Gryphon readily agreed to see him when he sent a message requesting a brief meeting. The Gryphon estate was on the lowest slope of Gray Lady—a socially acceptable location, if not as grand as Aerie House. The gates bore the twin griffin emblems of the house.

As Han approached the front porch, he noticed that carpenters swarmed over the outside of the house, removing some of the elaborate molding that iced the roofline like a bakery cake.

Inside, there were more masons and carpenters at work, and much of the furniture was stacked up and covered with canvas, as if ready to be shipped out.

Gryphon’s servant led Han into a book-lined library at the back of the house, which opened onto a paved veranda and gardens. Gryphon was out on the veranda, in his wheeled chair, reading.

Han’s former teacher greeted him with a smile, gesturing to another chair. “Alister. Welcome. Please. Sit. Would you like something to eat? To drink?”

Han shook his head. “I’ve just eaten, thank you.”

Gryphon dismissed his servant.

“Are you moving?” Han asked, nodding toward the disorder indoors.

Gryphon shook his head. “No, I’m just making some changes now that my parents are gone.” He gazed about critically. “It’s not that bad, really,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. “I think I can transform it into a place I could live in.”

“You didn’t like it before?” Han blurted. It looked like a palace to him.

Gryphon grimaced. “My parents did not believe in…accommodating my crippled state,” he said. “This house is full of steps, narrow passageways, and the like. When I’m finished, I’ll be able to go wherever I want on this property without help.”

“I see,” Han said.

“I’m not sure you do,” Gryphon said, stretching his arms above his head, arching his back. “I assume you did not invite yourself here to discuss my remodeling projects,” he said. “You’re probably wondering why I voted for you for High Wizard.”

“Yes,” Han said. “I am. I know that your family is close to the Bayars. And, from a political standpoint, I just expected—”

“‘Close to the Bayars,’” Gryphon repeated. “Some of us are close to some of the Bayars.” He looked past Han, into the house. “Ah, yes. Here we are. I took the liberty of inviting someone else to this meeting, by way of explanation.”

Han swung around in his chair, his hand on his amulet, his senses screaming danger. Was this all a ruse to win his confidence, to get him alone and vulnerable? He didn’t know whether to expect Fiona, or Micah, or the entire Bayar clan.

He didn’t expect to see Mordra deVilliers.

She walked out onto the patio and stood behind Gryphon’s chair, resting her hands on his shoulders. She’d accumulated a few more tattoos and piercings since Han had last seen her, at Oden’s Ford. She wore talismans all over her body and tied into her hair, and her stoles bore the deVilliers’ wavelets in gold.

Her red-streaked hair was longer than he remembered, hanging shining to her shoulders. She looked good—less wounded, somehow—and happier than he’d ever seen her.

“I believe you know each other,” Gryphon said, with a wicked smile.

Mordra threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Alister,” she said. “You should see your face. It is priceless.”

“Mordra,” Han stammered. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Just arrived yesterday.” She brushed at her clothes as if they still might carry the dust of travel. “I don’t believe I will ever get on a horse again,” she said. “I understand congratulations are in order. Do I have to call you my Lord Alister now that you’re High Wizard?”

“Han will do,” Han said. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know…I hadn’t expected—”

Mordra leaned down and kissed Gryphon on the lips—a good, thorough kiss. “You didn’t know
we
were…um…close, right?” She laughed again.

“No,” Han admitted. “No, I didn’t. When…ah…when did that happen?”

“You thought I was in love with Fiona Bayar,” Gryphon said. “Poor, sad Gryphon, mooning after the ice princess who would never, never have him.”

“Well, I have to admit, I wondered—”

“Oh, put Alister out of his misery, Adam,” Mordra said. “He looks like a puppy that’s just been smacked.”

“We all have assigned roles to play, Alister,” Gryphon said. “You may have been born to the streets. I was born to the nobility. But some of us fall short of family expectations. In my case, far short.” He laughed bitterly. “Here’s the abridged version: I was born with a misshapen leg, but at least I could walk—with a pronounced limp. That, however, was not good enough for my parents. They engaged a wizard healer to make the necessary repairs, to produce the perfect son they had anticipated. Unfortunately”—he gazed down at his charred legs—“things went badly wrong.

“But I was all they had to work with. Though my parents were forced to lower their expectations, they still had hopes. For instance, I could become powerful politically. And I could marry Fiona Bayar.” Gryphon looked up to where the wisteria bloomed on the trellised ceiling. “It didn’t matter that the Bayars had always treated me like—what would you call it, Alister—a scummer?”

Han nodded, surprised his former teacher was familiar with the word. “Scummer.”

“I hate the Bayars—every single one of them,” Gryphon went on. “Oden’s Ford was the first place that I ever felt valued. I plunged into the life of the scholar, and found, to my delight, that my brain was totally unimpaired. I finished my master’s work and fully intended to continue on teaching and researching, as far away from my parents as I could get.

“Then I met Mordra, and one thing led to another, and we fell in love. I was happy for the first time in my life.

“But my parents had other plans,” he said. “I was to marry Fiona, not Mordra, and I was to return to Fellsmarch to take my hereditary place on the Wizard Council and spend my life politicking with people who pity and despise me.”

It struck Han that he and Gryphon had more in common that he’d ever imagined. No matter who you were, parental expectations could be a curse. Han’s mother had believed he was demon-cursed, and was never able to get beyond that. Gryphon’s parents had never seen the value in him, either, because they couldn’t get past his physical imperfection.

“My family had no particular plan for me,” Mordra said, breaking into Han’s thoughts. “Except that it didn’t include my marrying someone as…impaired…as Adam. We had to keep our relationship a secret. There are too many wagging tongues even at the academy. It was worse once Micah and Fiona and their cousins arrived. It seemed hopeless that we could ever be together.”

Han recalled his inability to read Gryphon at Oden’s Ford, to figure out how he really felt about the Bayars. “I…How can I put this? When I was your student, I had the impression that you despised me.”

“It was nothing personal,” Gryphon said. “I pretty much despised everyone at the time, except for Mordra. Only, I had to pretend not to despise the Bayars, which wasn’t easy. You? You were incredibly gifted and not like any other student I’d ever had. I couldn’t figure out where you fit in. I could tell there was tension between you and Micah. And then I thought there was some kind of romance going on between you and Fiona.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a romance,” Han said, grimacing.

Mordra laughed. She really had a delicious laugh—Han just hadn’t heard it much at Oden’s Ford. “We were so paranoid that we thought you were a spy of some kind.”

Gryphon took up the story. “Despite our precautions, someone sent word to my parents that I wasn’t on board with their plans. They literally kidnapped me and dragged me back north, kicking and screaming, just before the queen was killed and you arrived. They thrust me into the family seat on the council and told me they would have Mordra killed if I resisted.” He reached up and closed his hand over Mordra’s. “And, yes, they were capable of that.”

Han swore under his breath, reminded once again that blue-bloods are the most ruthless murderers of all—they just never seem to pay for their crimes.

“And then fate intervened,” Mordra said cheerfully. “My father was killed by the Demonai.”

“And mine by parties unknown,” Gryphon said. “Suddenly, everything changed.” He paused, looking directly at Han. “The Bayars claim you killed my parents. I don’t know if you did, and I’m not going to ask. But know this—if you did, I am forever in your debt.”

“Both of us are,” Mordra added, resting her hands on Gryphon’s shoulders.

They believe I did it, Han realized. And nothing I can say will likely change their minds.