The Crimson Crown (32 page)

When Han and Dancer returned to Marisa Pines, Han took Dog along. In the camp, Dog clung to Han like a sucker vine, growling and snapping at the camp dogs and defending Han against imagined threats. Willo was the only one who could win him over.

Han enjoyed the sanctuary of Willo’s hearth, for what he knew might be the last time. Everything would change when Elena and Averill learned of Dancer’s parentage, which they surely would. Dancer was growing edgy, being apart from Cat for so long. More and more, he mentioned returning to town.

Willo seemed loathe to let Dancer go. “I worry about you these days, whenever you are out of my sight. I think we were right in confronting Bayar. And if it helps Hunts Alone, that’s a good thing. But I have no doubt that Lord Bayar will find a way to take revenge on us.”

They were just finishing dinner when the camp dogs set up a clamor that said there were visitors approaching. Han and Dancer walked outside, with Dog plastered to Han’s side, his ears laid back.

A lone rider approached, with the standard Demonai escort. The rider reined in outside the Matriarch Lodge and slid to the ground.

It was Cat Tyburn, incongruously dressed in a yellow gown with tall boots underneath, riding an unfamiliar horse.

“Cat!” Dancer ran forward and embraced her, swinging her around in a circle. “I have missed you. Thank you for coming.”

Cat rested her head on Dancer’s chest, allowing herself to enjoy the embrace before she pulled away. Casting a sidelong look at the Demonai, she said, “Let’s talk inside.”

Dancer motioned to one of the young boys hovering near. “Shadow—could you see to Catfire’s horse?”

They had taken to calling her Catfire in the camps, honoring her connection to Fire Dancer as well as her personality.

Cat marched into the Matriarch Lodge. Willo hadn’t moved from her place by the fire, but now she stood. “Catfire!” she said, smiling. “Welcome to our hearth. Please share all that we have. Have you eaten?”

Cat shook her head. “I left Fellsmarch this morning, and I’ve been riding ever since.” She glanced at Willo’s apprentice, and shut her mouth.

Bad news can’t wait for dinner, Han thought, reading her face.

Bright Hand dished up some venison and sweet potatoes, and then withdrew, leaving them to talk in private.

They sat cross-legged on the rug before the hearth, Dancer next to Cat, with his hand on her knee. Dog flopped down on the rug, his head resting in Han’s lap, and Han absently scratched him behind the ears.

Willo sat by the door, ready to intercept any intruders.

Cat wolfed down half her meal before she felt restored enough to speak.

“You’re in trouble, Cuffs,” she said. The words came tumbling out, with scarcely a breath between. “The Bayars met with Captain Byrne and told him you claim to be of royal lineage and you mean to climb onto the throne. Fiona says you want to couple up with her, which nobody with any sense would believe, but they all seem to.”

“How did the Bayars find out about your bloodline?” Dancer said.

“I sort of told Fiona,” Han said distractedly, his mind churning with the implications of this disaster.

“You
told
her?” Dancer said. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“I lost my temper, all right?” Han said. “I made a mistake,” he added, when Dancer rolled his eyes. “It happens.”

“Wait—it’s true?” Cat said, staring at the two of them. “Cuffs is a blueblood?”

“It’s a long story,” Dancer said.

“So the Bayars claim I’m plotting against the queen?” Han said, nudging Cat back to her story.

“Right. But that’s not the worst part,” Cat said. “Flinn’s turned evidence against you. He and Captain Byrne came to see the queen. Flinn told her he overheard you plotting with Fiona, that you meant to hush Queen Raisa and Princess Mellony and grab the throne yourself.”

“Blood and bones,” Han said, as his flimsy structure of lies and omissions came down around his ears. Flinn had brought Fiona to the Smiling Dog. He must have been eavesdropping, and anybody who’d overheard their conversation would assume the worst. “What did Raisa say? Did she believe Flinn?”

“There’s more,” Cat said, like she enjoyed her role as the harbinger of doom. “That fool Flinn told them about the jinx-flingers. Queen Raisa didn’t want to believe him, but then, after he left, Captain Byrne brought up that flute player pendant you used to wear.”

Han’s hand crept to his neckline, finding only the replacement talisman that Dancer had made him. “What about it?”

“Captain Byrne found it in Ragmarket, with one of the bodies. He said he knew whose it was, and Raisa did too, so—”

“Wait a minute!” Han put up his hand. “He found it in Ragmarket? How’d it get there?”

“I figured you must’ve dropped it when you did the wizard,” Cat said matter-of-factly. “Anyway, so Captain Byrne, he—”

“When I did the wizard?” Han sat back on his heels, dumbfounded. “You think
I’m
the one that’s been killing wizards?”

His voice had been rising with each new revelation, and by now he was practically shouting. Dog scrambled to his feet, hackles raised, and growled at Cat.

Cat blinked at Han. “You saying you’re not?”

“I’m saying I’m not,” Han said, horrified. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, we didn’t know for sure, but whoever did them was as slick as vapor and rum smart, which fits. And you had reason to hush wizards ’cause of what happened to Mam and Mari and the Raggers. Plus, you’ve been out in the streets every night.…” Cat trailed off under a glare from Dancer.

“Hunts Alone wouldn’t ambush people in the streets,” Willo said. “You should know that.”

“Maybe Hunts Alone wouldn’t, but Cuffs Alister would,” Cat said defensively.

“You all thought I did it?” Han said. “You were covering up for me?”

Cat shrugged. “Well, me and Sarie and Flinn, anyway, who knew you from before.”

“So when Flinn said I was behind the murders, he thought it was true,” Han muttered.

Cat rushed on, as if eager to explain. “I mean, even at the time we didn’t think it made sense, putting your gang sign on them and all. And at least you should’ve tossed them, to make it look like a robbery. We wondered if you wanted to get caught on purpose—to make a point.”

“It sounds to me like someone else was trying to make it look like it was Hunts Alone,” Dancer said.

Han’s heart twisted. If the people who knew him best thought him capable of shoulder-tap murders, then what should he expect from everyone else?

“What did the queen say?” he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Cat frowned. “She was crying and saying she was going to get to the bottom of it, and Captain Byrne, he was trying to console her and saying he’s sorry.”

“All this happened with you in the room?” Dancer said.

Cat shook her head. “’Course not. I was listening at the door,” she said. “Then the queen said they should talk to me since I was the go-between. So as soon as I heard that, I left through the window. I wanted to get to you before you came back to town and got hushed or arrested.”

“Where’s Flinn now? Do you know?” Han asked.

Cat shook her head. “The bluejackets took him away with them. I hope they throw him in gaol. He should never have told on you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Han said. “If he thought I was murdering wizards and meant to kill the queen, he did the right thing. He thought I’d thrown in with them that murdered his friends. He had no way of knowing different. And that’s my fault.” Han shook his head. “I need to find him. I need to talk to him.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Hunts Alone,” Willo said. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“Maybe not, but I should learn to trust my friends.” He turned to Cat. “I’m sorry. I ask you to do a job, and then I don’t trust you to know what’s going on. You and Dancer and all of my friends are taking a walk in the dark, just waiting for the bad thing to go down.”

“You’ve always been tight-lipped,” Cat said. “Streetlords got to be.”

“I’m not a streetlord anymore,” Han said.

He recalled how betrayed he’d felt when he’d learned that the girl he knew as Rebecca had been lying to him for more than a year. What must she be thinking now?

“I’ve got to talk to her,” Han muttered, his insides roiling like the Dyrnnewater at the flood.

“Who? Fiona?” Cat said.

Han shook his head. “Raisa. I should have been straight with her before. I should have told her what I intended to do.”

“What
do
you intend to do?” Dancer said.

“I’m going to marry her,” Han said.

“Marry her?” Cat gaped at him. “Why?”

“I love her,” Han said. “And I should have trusted her enough to tell her the truth. And now maybe I’ve lost her.”

“No,” Cat said, shaking her head. “Cuffs Alister is not getting married. That an’t possible.”

“Hunts Alone,” Willo said. “The Demonai will never permit a marriage between you and the queen. You know that. With Nightwalker fanning the flames, they are more rabid than ever.”

“Queen Raisa has just been told that you are plotting to take away her throne, and now you’re going to ask her to marry you?” Dancer rubbed his chin with the heel of his hand. “Do you think the time is right for that?”

“It’s the only time I have,” Han said. He stood, and Dog rose, also, sticking close. “I’m going to see her. Willo, could you take care of Dog while I’m gone?”

Willo nodded. “Of course.”

“If you go down to the city, you will be arrested,” Cat said.

“If the Demonai don’t get to you first,” Dancer added.

“What is it you always say?” Han said. “Everything’s a risk.”

“I’m coming with you, then,” Dancer said.

“If I run into the Bayars, that will give them the excuse they need to murder you too,” Han said. “You’re not accused of anything. Stay clear of me until I can straighten this out.”

If that was even possible. Han could only hope there was some way to make it right.

“Blood and bones!” Raisa growled, throwing her embroidery hoop across the room. It clattered against the wall and disappeared behind the bed. “That’s the fifth time I’ve stabbed myself today, and now I’ve got blood on the linen. I’m no good at this, and I’ll
never
be any good at this.”

Magret looked up from her book. “Would you like me to read to you, Your Majesty? I have some poetry that—”

“No,” Raisa muttered. “I’m not in the mood for poetry.”

“What’s wrong, Your Majesty?” Magret asked. “You’ve been tense ever since you came back from the mountains.”

“Tense? What makes you think I’m tense?” Raisa snapped. “Do I have to be in the mood for poetry all the time?”

After a long disapproving pause, Magret said, “I wish Caterina were here. If she played for you, that might soothe your nerves.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Raisa said. “I haven’t seen her for days.” Not since Han’s accusers had paraded through her chambers. Cat must have overheard—and done what? Gone to warn him? Gone to tell him to leave the queendom?

Maybe he was gone for good. The thought left a huge, hungry hollow in her middle. But at least he wouldn’t end up in gaol—a possibility she seemed unable to prevent.

I’ve been to gaol
, he’d said once.
Not going back.

“Your Majesty,” Magret said, breaking into her thoughts. “Is this about Cuffs Alister?” She stood, putting down her book, looking ready to do battle on Raisa’s behalf. “What’s happened? What’s he done? Has he threatened you?”

People say he’s plotting to kill me and steal my throne
, Raisa might have said. But she was in no mood to hear
I told you so
from Magret Gray.

Anyway, rightly or wrongly, Raisa still didn’t believe it.

He’s too smart for that, she told herself. Everybody is against him. There’s no chance he’d win.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, tired of debating with herself. “There’s no reason for me to make you miserable, too. You’re at liberty for the evening.”

Magret shook her head. “Captain Byrne doesn’t want you left alone,” she said.

“I won’t be alone. There’s a half dozen guards in the hallway.”

“Still.” Magret had that stubborn look on her face that said resistance was useless.

“Fine,” Raisa said. “Stay, then. I’m going to bed.”

She changed into her lightest nightgown, and climbed into bed, but of course she couldn’t sleep. It was beastly hot. She tossed and turned, flopping from front to back to side, until she could hear Magret snoring from the sitting room.

Somewhere far off, wolves called to each other. Called to her. Once she focused on that, there was no sleeping at all.

I’ll go up to the garden, she thought. At least I’ll get some fresh air. Maybe that will make me sleepy.

She padded barefoot along the tunnel inside the walls and climbed the ladder to the rooftop garden, the metal rungs punishing her feet. Emerging into the garden temple, she walked out to the fountain. The windows in the glasshouse stood open, admitting the night breeze to dispel the heat of the day.

Sitting down on the edge of the ornamental pond, Raisa dangled her feet in the water, feeling the goldfish nibble at her toes.

The wolves spoke again, close this time, and moving closer.
Danger or change—which is it?
Raisa messaged them.

She sensed his presence as a prickling between her shoulder blades before she saw or heard him. She looked up to find Han Alister silhouetted in the doorway of the glasshouse, centered by the bright star of his amulet. He stood as if frozen, his expression a mingle of desire and regret.

“Thank the Lady you’re still alive,” Raisa said, lifting her feet from the water and drying them on the hem of her nightgown. She was oddly calm, as if this meeting had been ordained a long time ago. “Did Cat find you?”

Han nodded. “But don’t blame her. She was worried about what would happen if I came back to town without knowing what was coming down.” He stood awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as if unsure how to begin.

Just then, a dog pushed up next to Han, a scrawny tan-and-white shepherd dog with a leather collar and a torn ear. For a moment, Han seemed to debate whether to pretend it wasn’t there. Finally, he knelt beside it. “I told you to stay!” he muttered. “Don’t you ever listen?”