Cinda Chima - The Crimson Crown

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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