with disapproval.
Han shrugged, still watching the spinning jewel. “I don’t know.”
Dancer shook his head. “You should pitch it into the ravine. If Bayar took the thing without permission, let him explain what happened to it.”
Han was unable to fathom pitching it away. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing you’d want to leave lying around for somebody—maybe a child from the camps—to find.
Han fished a square of leather from his carry bag and spread it on the ground. Dropping the amulet in the center, he wrapped it carefully and tucked it in his bag. All the time wondering, How had it come to this? How had he and Dancer ended up in a standoff with wizards? What was the connection between them and Dancer? Maybe it was just the latest in a long line of bad luck. Han always seemed to find trouble, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.
CHAPTER TWO UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES
Raisa shifted impatiently in her saddle and peered about, squinting against the sunlight that dappled the trail.
“Don’t squint, Raisa,” her mother snapped automatically. It was one of a collection of phrases that stood in for conversation with the queen, including, “Sit up straight,” and “Where do you think you’re going?” Along with the all-purpose “Raisa ana’Marianna!”
So Raisa shaded her eyes instead, searching the surrounding woods. “Let’s go,” she said. “They were supposed to meet us here a half hour ago. If they can’t be on time, I say we leave them behind. The day is wasting.”
Lord Gavan Bayar nudged his horse closer and put his hand on Switcher’s bridle. “Please, Your Highness, I beg you, give them a few more minutes. Micah will be keenly disappointed if he misses the hunt. He’s been looking forward to it all week.” The handsome High Wizard smiled at her with the exaggerated charm adults use on children when there are other adults around.
Micah’s been looking forward to the hunt? Raisa thought. Not nearly as much as I have. He’s able to come and go as he pleases.
He’s probably still angry about last night, she thought. That’s why he’s making us wait. He’s not used to anyone saying no to him.
Raisa kneed Switcher, and the mare tossed her head, breaking the wizard’s grip. Switcher snorted, shying at a leaf skidding along the ground. She was as eager to be gone as Raisa.
“I’m often late,” Raisa’s younger sister, Mellony, piped up, urging her pony forward. “Maybe we should try to be patient.”
Raisa threw her a scathing look, and Mellony bit her lip and looked away.
“Micah likely lost track of time,” Lord Bayar went on, trying to settle his own horse, a large-boned stallion. The breeze ruffled his mane of silver hair, streaked with wizard red. “You know how boys are.”
“Perhaps you could give him a pocket watch on his next name day, then?” Raisa said acerbically, eliciting the “Raisa ana’Marianna!” response from her mother.
I don’t care! she thought. It was bad enough she’d been cooped up in Fellsmarch Castle since solstice, closeted with tutors and overburdened with three years’ worth of catch-up lessons on useless topics.
For instance: A lady can converse with anyone, of any age or station. At table, a hostess is responsible for assuring that everyone participate in conversation. She should direct the conversation away from politics and other divisive subjects and be prepared with alternative topics should the need arise.
If a lady should do this, Raisa wondered, should a man do the same? Is he required to?
Both Raisa and her mother had changed during the three years she’d been gone to Demonai Camp, and now it seemed they were constantly at odds. Her clan-born father, Averill, had been a buffer between them. Now he was always traveling, and Marianna persisted in treating Raisa like a child.
These days, Raisa couldn’t help hearing the whispers that followed after the queen. Some said she paid too little attention to finances, policy, and affairs of state. Others said she paid too much attention to the High Wizard and the council on Gray Lady. Had it always been this way, or was Raisa just noticing it more because she was older?
Maybe it was her grandmother Elena’s influence. The Matriarch of Demonai Camp was full of opinions about Vale politics and the growing influence of wizards, and she had never hesitated to express them during Raisa’s three years with her father’s family.
After the relative freedom of Demonai Camp, Raisa found it a misery to force her feet into the pinchy shoes and elaborate stockings favored at court, and to sweat and itch under the ruffled girlish dresses her mother chose for her. She was nearly sixteen, nearly grown, but most days Raisa resembled a tiered wedding cake on two legs.
Not today. Today she’d pulled on her tunic and leggings and clan-made boots, layering her hip-length riding coat over all. She’d slung her bow over her shoulder and slid a quiver of arrows into the boot attached to her saddle. When she’d led Switcher from the stables, Lord Bayar had run his eyes over her and glanced at the queen to assess her reaction.
Raisa’s mother tightened her lips and let go a great sigh, but apparently decided it was too late to force her daughter back inside to change clothes. Mellony, of course, mirrored their mother in her tailored riding jacket and long, divided riding skirt, a froth of petticoats cascading over her boots.
Mellony was the image of their mother. She’d inherited Marianna’s blond hair, her creamy pale complexion, and looked to grow as tall or taller. Raisa favored her father’s side, with her dark hair, green eyes, and small frame.
So here they were, dressed and eager for the hunt on a fine sunny day, and it was being squandered waiting for the tardy Micah Bayar and his cousins.
Micah was a daring horseman and aggressive, competitive hunter. Though he was just sixteen, his dark, dangerous good looks had half the girls at court swooning over him.
Since her return to Fellsmarch, he’d courted her with a flattering intensity she found hard to resist. The fact that their romance was forbidden made it all the more appealing. Fellsmarch Castle was full of eyes and ears, but they still found places to meet unsupervised. Micah’s kisses were intoxicating, and his embraces made her head swim.
It was more than that, though. He had a savage, cynical wit that picked apart the society that had birthed the two of them. He made her laugh, and little did these days.
Raisa knew that a flirtation with Micah Bayar was risky, but it was a way of rebelling against her mother and the constraints of court life. Rebellion only went so far, though. She was not empty-headed Missy Hakkam, ready to trade her virtue for a bit of bad poetry and a kiss on the ear.
And patience was not Micah Bayar’s long suit. Hence their dispute the previous night.
She’d looked forward to hunting with him, but she wasn’t willing to wait forever. Time and opportunity were leaking away. The story of her life.
Captain Edon Byrne and a triple of soldiers were mounted up and ready too, conversing quietly among themselves. Byrne was the captain of the Queen’s Guard, the latest of a long line of Byrnes in that position. He’d insisted on providing escort on the day’s hunt, over Lord Bayar’s objections.
Now Byrne called over to them. “Shall I send one of my men after the boys, Your Majesty?” he asked.
“You could all go, if it was up to me, Captain Byrne,” Lord Bayar drawled. “Queen Marianna and the princesses will be perfectly safe. There is no need for you and your men to drag after us like the overlong tail of a kite. The clans may be savage and unpredictable, but they’re unlikely to try anything with me along.” He fingered the amulet that hung around his neck, in case Byrne had missed the point. The High Wizard always enunciated