C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S I X The spring term was well under way, and Hallie still hadn’t returned from the Fells. It’s a long way to Fellsmarch, Raisa told herself. Even longer in these unsettled times.
Maybe Hallie had decided not to come back to school. Maybe, after seeing her daughter, she couldn’t bring herself to leave again.
“Why isn’t there any place for children here?” she asked Amon one day as they worked out with their staffs.
“What?” He parried her quick jab to his middle and swung his staff at her head. She ducked, and it whistled past her ear. While he was off balance, she penetrated his defenses and gave him a good smack on the rump.
Raisa was glad they still had this time together. It was a relatively safe way to work off the tension between them. She just had to be careful not to hit too hard.
“You mean classes?” he panted, spinning around and bringing up his staff to block her next blow. She slammed her staff across his and felt the vibration clear up her arms.
“Well, yes, and a place for students to live with their children.”
“Don’t you think that would be a distraction?” Amon asked. He swept his staff low, nearly knocking her off her feet.
“Don’t you think it’s even more distracting to be missing your child?”
“Cadets are supposed to bond with each other,” Amon said. “Would that happen if they were caring for a family?”
“I don’t think we can ignore the fact that some students have families,” Raisa said. “If Hallie’s daughter were here, she wouldn’t have traveled home on her own.” Mopping sweat from her face, she held up her hand to signal the end of the bout. “The Temple School could offer classes for them, like Southbridge does. But there’s no housing for them in the city.”
“Hmmm,” Amon said. “Well, if you want to pursue it, start with Master Askell. He’s on the governance council for the academy.”
The spring term was easier academically than the one before. Raisa didn’t have Proficient Tourant to deal with, for one thing. Tourant had left the academy entirely, and nobody seemed sorry to see him go.
Infantry drilling had been replaced with horsemanship, in which Raisa excelled. She enjoyed riding Switcher, who’d grown fat and lazy last term. She liked getting out into the countryside again, even if it was flat.
Askell was a rare visitor to her classes these days. And so she had to make an appointment to speak with him about her idea regarding family housing.
“Sit down, Newling Morley,” Askell said, when his orderly ushered her into his office. “Be at ease. Would you like tea?” He gestured at the teapot on its little burner.
“No, sir,” she said. “Thank you. It won’t take long.”
She felt different, more confident than she’d been the last time. Both times she’d come as a supplicant. But now she felt like she had some footing, like she didn’t need to apologize for her presence. She’d achieved high marks in all her classes, save Tourant’s. That class she’d failed.
As if he’d read her mind, Askell said, “If you are here about your marks in History of Warfare, that record has been amended.”
“Oh!” Raisa said, surprised. “I’m not here for that reason, but thank you, sir.”
“Why are you here, then?”
Raisa explained her idea and the reasons for it.
Askell frowned. “It has never been done before, and yet we’ve managed to scrape along for more than a thousand years.”
“Applications to Wien House are dramatically down,” Raisa said.
Askell raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”
“Arden has always sent more cadets to Oden’s Ford than the rest of the Seven Realms,” Raisa said. “But they’ve been at war for a decade, so the young people who would have come here are already fighting. To get enough quality students, you’ve been accepting older, less traditional ones. And many of those have families.”
Askell sat back. “I can’t imagine this affects many of our students,” he said.
“One in five,” Raisa said. “One in three proficients and masters students.”
“How do you know this?” Askell asked. “That sounds like more than a guess.”
“I surveyed all six classes of cadets,” Raisa said. “Of course, I couldn’t survey those who never came here because they couldn’t risk leaving their families behind.” She leaned forward. “The Wien House dormitories are half empty. There would be room for some families, at least. We could start with Wien House and expand to the other schools if it’s successful.”
“You have been busy, Morley,” Askell said. “Clearly your workload is too light this term.” Dipping his pen into a bottle of ink, he scratched a few notes. “I cannot promise anything,” he said. “The military is the most conservative of organizations, particularly my countrymen within it. But you make a solid case for investigating this.”
“That is all I can ask,” Raisa said, but couldn’t resist adding, “I would hope that this investigation does not take too long.”
“I have a question,” Askell said, looking at her over the rim of his teacup. “Proficient Tourant’s behavior was abysmal all term, and yet you never complained,” he said. “Why not?”
Raisa shrugged. “If I can’t manage the Tourants of the world, I’m unlikely to succeed as queen of the Fells. Some days it seems like I’m surrounded by Tourants.”
“I thought you might return to the Fells at solstice,” Askell said.
“I’m waiting for word from home,” Raisa said. “I’ll likely leave as soon as I receive assurances that it’s safe to do so.” If that ever happens, she thought.
“Is there any chance you’ll return next year?” Askell asked, tapping his pen on his blotter.
Raisa shook her head. “I can’t imagine that I would. I’ve learned so much, but I’ve been away too long as it is.”
“I see,” Askell said. He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to know that if you returned next year, I planned to offer you command over a triple of newlings. Your performance this year has been impressive.” A smile ghosted across his face. “And not just because my expectations were so low.”
“Thank you, sir,” Raisa said, a little flustered. “I am honored. And it would be an honor to serve, if I were returning.”
“I realize that the role of corporal is a step down from princess,” Askell said, “but I wanted you to know my mind.”
“Thank you,” Raisa said. “I want you to know that I will never forget my time here at Oden’s Ford. It’s been an incredible gift to step out of the role of princess and into the role of student.”
Askell stood, signaling that it was time for her to go. “If you are still here, I hope that I will see you at the Cadets’ Ball.”
“Oh. Yes. Well. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” Raisa had heard of little else for weeks—the Wien House end-of-term party. It was kind of a target to aim at, an excuse to leap over the work remaining to be done.
“It’s not that far off,” Askell said, smiling. “I hope that if you do leave before then, you will come and say good-bye.”
“Thank you, sir, I will.” She saluted Askell, her fist over her heart, and left.
The bloody Cadets’ Ball, Raisa thought as she descended the steps. I’m not going.
Amon had continued his proper courtship of Annamaya. Every weekend that he was off duty he put on his dress uniform and crossed the river to visit her at the Temple School. Raisa could picture them sitting all straight-backed in the garden. At least she didn’t have to see it for real. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid it at the dance.
Talia and Pearlie were going together. Since Hallie hadn’t returned, Raisa would be a loose thread dangling. A princess without a dance card at the ball. That would never happen at home.
She didn’t have friends at home, either—not real friends to pester her to death.
“I don’t know why you don’t ask Han,” Talia said, as if she and Han were old friends. These days, she and Pearlie often showed up at The Turtle and Fish on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Sometimes Mick and Garret came, too. When Han’s tutoring session was finished, he would buy a round, and Raisa would end up staying late.
“He’s so good-looking and charming, and the way he looks at you—it sends shivers right through me,” Talia sighed. “Girlies used to knife fight over Cuffs Alister back in Ragmarket, you know. He’s not my type, but if he was...”
“He’s not my type either,” Raisa said, then rushed to add, “I mean, I like him, and all that, but…I know it won’t work out in the long run.”
Talia raised her eyebrow in an “Oh, really?” kind of way. “I know you’re a blueblood, but it’s not like you have to marry him.”
Speaking of. It was nearly six. Time to meet the amazing Han Alister for tutoring.
“I have to go,” Raisa said.
“Say hello for me!” Talia winked at Raisa.
He was waiting for her in the upstairs room at The Turtle and Fish. He was always early, ever since that first class when he’d been late and she’d laid into him. (He was definitely teachable.) He’d taken to ordering dinner (he said as payment), so they’d gotten into the habit of eating together before or after their sessions. He claimed he needed to practice his table manners with actual food.
“What if I used the right fork, but used it to stuff sausage in my mouth, or guzzled down my ale like a soaker in his cups?” he said. “All your hard work would have gone to waste.”
Han worked hard himself. He did the assigned reading and participated without complaint in Raisa’s role-playing. His speech had improved dramatically over the past two months, though he still used thieves’ slang now and then because that didn’t result in fivepenny payments. His table manners were nearly flawless, when he paid attention.
There were times, though, that he seemed desperate for sleep, yawning after dinner and twice actually dozing off.
“Should you be spending time on this right now?” Raisa asked one evening when she could tell he was exhausted. “Like I said, you can learn manners on your own.”
“I apologize,” he said. “It’s not the company. If there’s anybody I want to be awake for, it’s you. I was up late last night is all.”
It seemed he was up late every night. Is he seeing someone? she wondered.
It’s not my business if he is.
It was clear he was used to having his way with girls, and in a dozen ways he let her know that he was interested in her. She’d feel the pressure of his eyes, and turn around to find him gazing at her as one might a complicated, layered painting. The intensity of his attention was seductive.
Sometimes he’d pull his chair around so they could share his book. He’d sit about an inch away, always maintaining that tiny distance, as if he knew exactly where she was at all times.
As he bent his head over Faulk, she’d find herself staring at the curve of his jaw with its pale bristle of beard, the jagged scar that narrowly missed his right eye, his muscular forearms corded with veins.
She noticed everything—the way he yawned and stretched, arching his back like a cat, belatedly covering his mouth with his hand. The many colors in his hair—pale butter and cream, reddish gold and platinum. How he often repeated a question, as if to buy time to conjure up the answer. The way he always sat facing the door, perhaps a leftover from Ragmarket, and groped for his knife when startled. How he constantly slid his hand into his shirt, releasing power into his amulet.
He wasn’t proud or arrogant, but there was a self-confidence about him that said he knew what he wanted and he was going to get it, and you’d better not get in his way. It had probably served him well as streetlord of the Raggers.
How could she be noticing Han Alister when she was still brokenhearted over Amon Byrne? Did the destruction of one dream leave a vacuum that required filling with another?
Is a broken heart more vulnerable? she wondered. Am I fickle or self-destructive?
I am not going through this again.
But she’d come to look forward to their twice-weekly meetings more than she cared to admit.
Often they continued beyond the agreed-upon two hours. Raisa had tried to enforce the deadline at first, but gave up. Han Alister could always charm her into staying longer.
This evening, when she arrived, sandwiches and cider were set out on the table. Along with a beautifully enameled and jeweled music box.
“This is lovely,” she said, opening the lid and examining the intricate mechanism with her trader eye. It was clanwork, probably an antique. She looked up at him, puzzled. “What’s it for?”
“It’s for you,” he said, gesturing awkwardly. “A gift.”
“I can’t accept this,” she said, feeling the blood rush to her face. She tried to give it back to him, but he put his hands behind him, so she set it down on the table.
“I brought it for selfish reasons,” he said. “I want you to teach me to dance.”
Raisa looked up at him, startled. “What? Why?”
“There’s always the chance I’ll be invited to a party,” he said. “I want to be ready just in case.” The blue eyes were wide and innocent.
“There are so many other topics we haven’t covered yet,” Raisa protested. “Officers of the court, appropriate dress for social situations, protocols of the hunt, correspondence guidelines…”
“I hear lots of business is done at parties,” Han said, sticking out his chin. “I know some clan dances, but I need to know how to dance city-style.”
“What kind of dances do you want to learn?” Raisa asked, rolling her eyes.
“The kind where you hold your partner,” he said, winding up the music box. “What’s that one called?”
We call that trouble, Raisa thought as the music began.
It was a northern song, “Flower of the Mountains.” A rush of homesickness overwhelmed her. “Oh!” she said. “I love that song. Where did you get this?”
“There’s a music store on the Mystwerk side, close to the Temple School,” Han said. He stood in front of her, holding out his hands, waist high.
Raisa pulled her hands back. “First, let me show you the footwork. This one’s called High Country Step.” She demonstrated. “Now you try.” She watched as he attempted it. “That’s almost it, but it’s step-step-back-step-slide.” He tried again. “And then forward.”
After a few more practice steps, Raisa held out her own hands. “Let’s try it together now. Follow me.” She placed his right hand on her left hip, keeping hold of his left hand with her right. The magic in his hands was well controlled, subtle, and potent. It went to her head like Bruinswallow wine.
“Now, step-step-back, good, good, forward…” They practiced over and over, recranking the music box when needed, snatching gulps of cider and bites of sandwich in between.
It’s a good thing I like this song, Raisa thought.
When Han had mastered the High Country Step, they moved on to Square Round, If My True Love Would Just Be True, and Rose Among the Thorns. The last one was complicated, and even though Han seemed to be a natural dancer, they repeatedly got their feet tangled up.
“Wait! Wait!” Raisa said, when they seemed in danger of toppling over. “Stop, stop, stop!”
They ended up holding on to each other to keep from toppling, flushed and laughing, panting from the exertion.
“I think I need more practice,” Han said, shaking his head.
“Nobody ever gets that one right,” Raisa replied. “Never mind. I think you’re ready for dancing.”
“Good,” he said, grinning. “Now ask me to the Cadets’ Ball.”
“Cadets’ Ball! Who told you about the…?” Raisa said, baffled, and then it came to her. “Talia told you! I know it was her.” She shook her head. “I’m not going.”
“Please, Rebecca,” he coaxed. “There’s more to a dance than dancing. It would give me a chance to practice everything—table manners, blueblood talk, the whole lot. And it’s not just that. I want to go with you.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Unless you’re already walking out with someone.”
Raisa thought about lying, but knew Talia would have spilled the truth already. “No.” She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not walking out with anyone.”
Don’t you dare, she thought. Don’t you dare tell me you’ll make me forget Amon Byrne.
But he didn’t. Instead, he put his fingers under her chin and lifted her head so she was looking up at him. “Lucky me,” he murmured, and kissed her. Slowly and thoroughly, like someone who knew what he was doing.
Raisa had loved kissing Amon Byrne, but it seemed they’d never had an uninterrupted kiss.
With Micah, every kiss had been a skirmish in their ongoing war. Exciting but brutal.
Reid Demonai was talented enough, and certainly experienced…
But she’d never been kissed like this.
And, like a fool, she kissed him back. Kissed him in a way that would leave no doubt how she felt about him. Kissed him because she knew that chances were slim she’d have very many kisses like that in her lifetime.
Which is a sad thing when you’re only sixteen.
He backed up until he came up against the chair, and he sat, pulling her onto his lap. And there were more kisses—hungry kisses that seemed to have been stacking up during the weeks they’d been meeting. She gave in to them completely, winding her fingers into his pale hair, pulling his head down for more.
There was wizardry in his kisses, but it was subtle, like the after notes of something rich and intoxicating on its own.
She ended up with her arms wrapped around him, shivering, her cheek pressed against his chest, breathing hard, not wanting to let go. But knowing she had to.
“We can’t do this,” Raisa whispered, almost to herself. “It’s just going to make matters worse.”
Han stroked her hair, shifting his body under her. “Why? What are you afraid of? Thieves or wizards?”
“Both,” she said.
“Is it because I’m not a blueblood?” He asked this matter-of-factly, as if he really wanted to know.
“That’s the least of it,” Raisa said, taking a shuddering breath. “This is just going to lead to heartbreak, and I refuse to have my heart broken again.” She looked up at him. “I thought I could play at love. I thought I had the right, same as…as any courtier or a…a streetlord.”
He shook his head. “Rebecca, listen, I—”
“But I’ve found out I’m not made that way,” she interrupted. “I can’t play this game if my heart’s not in it. That’s me personally. I’m not judging anyone else.”
“I see,” he said. He tightened his arms around her, brushing his fingers along her collarbone, setting her nerves tingling. “What’s your heart saying now?”
She wanted to be honest with him, even though she’d probably pay for it. “I’m in trouble,” she whispered.
Han didn’t say anything for a long time. “I can’t guarantee I won’t hurt you,” he said finally, “because there’s a lot I can’t control. What I can tell you is that hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”
“You won’t be able to help it,” Raisa said, swiping at her eyes. “And it’s not just a matter of you hurting me. I will hurt you too, even if I don’t mean to. I’m not the girl you think I am. And you will remember this conversation, and wish that you’d listened to me.” She burrowed her hands into his. “How can you want this if you know from the beginning that it will end badly?” Tell him the truth, said a voice in her head. But she just couldn’t. She didn’t dare.
He searched her face with his eyes, as if trying to surface the story behind the words. Then he kissed her eyelids and the tip of her nose, and once again, her lips. With each kiss, her resistance dwindled.
“I live in the present,” Han said, “because the future is always chancy. When it comes to being with you, I’m willing to take the risk. Are you?”
“Now I’ll feel like a coward if I don’t.” Raisa leaned back against him. Looked up at his face and traced the scar above his eye with her forefinger. “How did you get this?” she asked.
“Took a risk,” he said, his blue eyes fixed on her face.
“Was it worth it?”
He thought about it. “Yes.”
“All right,” Raisa said, giving in. “Let’s take a risk. But we’ll go slow.”
His arms tightened around her again. She felt the thud of his heart against her back. “I don’t want to go slow,” he whispered in her ear. “Like I said, I live for the present. Every time I try to set something aside for the future, it gets taken away.”
“I know,” Raisa said. “But we will take it slow, just the same.”