The Crimson Crown

“You think I should make a match like my mother’s, then?” Raisa said. That worked out well, she wanted to say. But didn’t. Instead, she squeezed her father’s arm to take some of the sting away.

Averill walked on a few more paces before he replied. “I know my marriage to Marianna wasn’t … everything it could have been,” he said at last. “But I genuinely loved your mother—you must know that. And I like to think that, in the absence of Lord Bayar, I could have won her love in spite of our age difference. And you and Daylily were worth any amount of pain.”

“So I’m to settle for pain and progeny?” Raisa said, trying for light, but her voice trembled. “In Nightwalker’s case, it would be me wondering whose bed he was sleeping in.”

“He will change his ways,” Averill said. “He really wants this, you know.”

“I know,” Raisa said. “I will seriously consider Nightwalker, but I can’t help wondering if he wants me, personally, or if he just wants to be married to the queen.”

“Does it matter?” Averill looked into her eyes. “One cannot be divided from the other.”

Raisa laughed. “Sometimes I don’t know if you are a cynic or a romantic.”

“Both,” Averill said. “That’s how you survive love and politics.” He embraced her, then turned away, toward Factor House.

Pausing in the corridor outside the door to her suite, Raisa could hear sweet basilka music from inside. Cat, she thought, smiling. When she eased the door open, she saw Cat sitting on the edge of the hearth, her basilka crosswise on her lap, her dark head bent over the strings. And next to her, Magret was sprawled in a chair drawn up to the fire, her head thrown back, eyes closed, a cloth across her forehead.

Cat looked up and saw Raisa, and the music broke off abruptly. She jackknifed to her feet and curtsied, holding the basilka by its neck.

When the music stopped, Magret opened her eyes and sat up, blinking. When she saw Raisa, she, likewise, leapt up as if they’d been caught in guilty pursuits.

“Your Majesty!” she sputtered, sinking into a curtsy. “I did not hear you come in.”

“Be at ease, Magret,” Raisa said. “It looks like you have one of your headaches.”

“I do, ma’am,” Magret said. She cleared her throat. “But the music, it seems to help,” she said. “The girl suggested it.” She tilted her head toward Cat.

“The girl has a name,” Raisa said, raising her eyebrows.

“Caterina suggested it,” Magret said dutifully.

“Continue, if you like,” Raisa said to the both of them. “I have some reading to do.”

“Ma’am, if it’s all right with you, I would like to go lie down for a while,” Magret said. “I’ll be feeling better by suppertime, I’m sure of it.”

“Of course,” Raisa said, waving her away. “Take all the time you need.”

After Magret left, Raisa sat down in the chair she had vacated and pulled some paperwork out of a portfolio. It was a survey of border fortifications she’d asked Klemath to put together. According to the report, the fortifications were in good shape.

Hmmm, she thought. Last I knew, the wall near Marisa Pines Pass was badly in need of repair.

It was difficult to focus, though, with the accusations against Han occupying her mind.

Meanwhile, Cat bustled about as if trying to find something to do, walking around the heaps of clothing that needed to be taken to the laundry or put away.

“Sit,” Raisa ordered, pointing at the hearth. Cat obeyed. “Tell me what’s going on in Ragmarket and Southbridge. What are you hearing about the wizard murders?”

Cat’s face went opaque, like a window misting over. “Nothing,” she said, picking at a scab on her arm. “I’d have brought it to Cuffs—Lord Alister—or Captain Byrne if I did.”

It was a quick answer—too quick to be the truth. Raisa tried to catch Cat’s eye, but her maid/spymaster refused to look at her.

“Surely you’ve heard something,” Raisa persisted. “Rumors, gossip …”

Cat shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Nobody’s seen anything—or if they did, they an’t saying. There’s no bagged flash come to market. The killers an’t even spoiled the bodies.”

“Well? Do you have any theories?” Raisa was growing impatient.

“I wondered if it might be somebody taking revenge for all the killings that was done last summer—the Southies and the Raggers.” Cat cleared her throat. “I mean, since they was done by wizardry, and it’s wizards being killed. But there’s no Southies left—and no Raggers, either, except the ones working for you and Lord Alister.”

A tiny suspicion crept in before Raisa could squelch it. Could Cat and her crew be involved somehow? Without Han’s knowledge? Could that be why Cat was so skittish?

“Would anyone speak up to the Guard if they knew anything about the killings, do you think?” Raisa asked. “If they saw anything?”

“Likely not,” Cat said. “Jinxflingers an’t welcome in Southbridge or Ragmarket. Most are happy to see them go down. Folks aren’t going to take risks on their account. The only one they fancy is Cuffs, because he’s one of their own. They respected him before. Now they think he can chew rocks and spit diamonds.”

“Do you think it’s someone acting alone?”

“Maybe. If it was the gangs, somebody would know something, and somebody would tell me. Whoever it is, they’re good at slipping around unseen.” Cat seemed to be choosing her words carefully, like she was stepping around some big secret.

Raisa’s thoughts strayed to her father’s accusations against Han. “Could it be a wizard?”

Cat finally met Raisa’s eyes, a miserable expression on her face. “I guess it could be, since they can hide themselves.” She paused. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Raisa said, unsure of how to interpret Cat’s signals. “I mean, none of the dead were killed with wizardry.”

“Well, that’d give it away, wouldn’t it?” Cat said, almost to herself. “Anyway, blades are quicker than jinxes. I guess it wouldn’t be hard for one wizard to stick another, since they likely trust each other.”

I don’t know about the trust part, Raisa thought. Could the shortage of amulets be playing out in this way—wizards killing and stealing them from each other? After all, some were willing to kidnap clan children to the same purpose. Could disputes on the council be spilling over into the streets? That didn’t make sense, though. None of the victims were particularly important. All they had in common was that they were wizards.

“Why don’t you play?” Raisa asked finally, nodding toward the basilka leaning against the hearth. But just then came a sharp rap on the door. Cat went to answer, and soon after, Raisa heard voices rising in an argument.

“She’s not here,” Cat was saying. “Come back later. Or never.”

“Who is it, Lady Tyburn?” Raisa called over her shoulder.

Cat flinched, as Raisa’s voice gave the game away. “Nobody,” she said. “Nobody you want to see.”

It didn’t sound like imminent danger, anyway. Raisa stood and looked toward the door. Beyond Cat, filling the doorframe, was Micah Bayar, one hand on his amulet, the other extended toward Cat.

A different kind of danger.

“Call off your attack dog, Raisa,” Micah said.

Cat waved a knife at Micah. “Try me. We’ll see who’s faster,” she said, eyes glittering. “It better be a quick jinx.”

“I thought Alister killed you,” Micah said to Cat. “He told me he did.”

“When it comes to people Lord Alister wants to kill, I wouldn’t be first in line,” Cat said.

“Stop it, Caterina,” Raisa said. “Let him in. I told him he could call on me.”

“What?” Cat’s expression said that Raisa was likely impaired. “Why?”

“That’s my business,” Raisa said.

Micah cut his eyes toward the door, trying to nudge Cat out of the room. “Now, if you don’t mind …”

That was not going to happen. Like always, Micah was pushing Raisa’s limits.

“Caterina, could you play while we talk?” Raisa said, running her fingers along the neck of the basilka. “Or would you rather hear the harp?” she asked Micah.

“I’m not in the mood for music,” Micah said, looking furious.

“Trust me, Micah, Lady Tyburn will change your mind.” She handed the basilka to her glowering maid. “Why don’t you begin with ‘Hanalea’s Lament’? That’s my favorite.” She motioned to the chairs in front of the fire. “We can sit right here.” She plopped herself down on the cushions and gestured toward the other chair.

Micah grudgingly lowered himself into the other chair. Cat settled onto a side chair behind them, near the door, her basilka on her lap.

“What is she doing here?” Micah asked in a fierce whisper. “When I saw the old hag leave, I assumed you were alone.”

“Were you lurking outside my room, Micah?” Raisa asked. “That’s disturbing.”

The first few notes of the familiar song floated up. There followed a spate of tuning, with loud, angry discordant notes. Cat was skilled at speaking through her instrument.

“Speaking of disturbing, do you know who your servant is?” Micah asked, thrusting viciously at the fire with an iron poker. “She used to be in a street gang with Alister. She’s a thief and likely a murderer. But lately those seem to be the qualifications you are looking for. I hope you have your jewelry locked up.”

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