Cinda Chima - The Exiled Queen

Cat was a rum player on the basilka. Back in Ragmarket, she used to play to pass the time until darkman’s hour, when the Raggers went to work. Some days Han would just lie there, halfway between waking and sleeping, letting the music carry him someplace else.

“Jemson says if I study music and art and reading and writing and pretty talk, I might get on as a lady’s maid or teacher or something.” Cat snorted. “Like they’d hire a marked thief.”

Han tried to get his mind around the notion of Cat as a lady’s maid.

Cat looked up and read his expression. “Forget it. I got this far, then I decided I an’t going. Jemson, he thinks he got me backed into a corner, but I an’t taking vows.”

“You don’t have to take vows to go to the Temple School,” Han said. “Some do, but you—”

“I don’t care. I don’t belong there, in a covey of bluebloods. They be sweet as flatland cider to your face while they’re gibing behind your back.”

She’s afraid, Han thought. She’s afraid she’ll be made fun of. Afraid she won’t be good enough. Maybe with good reason. What did he know about Oden’s Ford? Nothing.

Cat pushed the money toward Han and stood. “I’m glad for what you did, but I can’t take this.”

Han made no move to pick it up. “It’s your money. Not mine. I just took it back from a thief. If you don’t take it, you’ll be leaving it for the help.”

She shook her head stubbornly, biting her lip.

“Look,” Han said. “Here’s how I see it. I got a lot to answer for. I owe you. Just let me do this thing, will you?”

It was true. He desperately wanted to ease the load of guilt he carried around.

“If you want to do something for me, here’s what I want,” Cat said abruptly. “Let me come with you.”

“What?” Han gaped at her. It had been a whole evening of surprises. “You don’t even know what we’re doing!”

“It don’t matter,” Cat said. “I an’t cut out for temple life, no matter what Jemson says. I’ll swear to you. Like before.”

Like when Han was streetlord of the Raggers, and Cat was his right hand. And more.

Han eyed Cat warily. With Velvet gone, was Cat looking to rekindle what had once been between them? That seemed like a bad idea. When they were together, they’d fought like two cats stuffed into a bag. He had enough drama in his life as it was.

As if she’d read his thoughts, she said, “If you’re walking out with a girlie, I won’t be inching in,” she said. “This is strictly shares. Strictly business.”

Thoughts pinged around Han’s head like coppers in a jar. Cat thought joining up with her old streetlord was a way to avoid going to school. But he was heading for school himself. He had no need of a crew and no way to support one. He’d be spending money, not earning money, so there’d be no shares.

He looked at Cat. She glared at him, tapping her foot because he was taking too long to answer. He couldn’t help recalling that when he’d wanted to go to Demonai Camp with Bird and she’d refused him, she’d had some good reasons, too.

If he refused her, she’d go back to the life for sure. If she went back to the gangs, she’d be dead before she turned twenty, demons or not. Streetlords never got old.

Maybe Jemson was right— maybe school was what she needed. Han wouldn’t get any thanks for trying to save her. But there might be a way.

“You can come,” Han said finally. “But we’re going to Oden’s Ford ourselves. You come with me, you got to go to school.”

“What?” She sat frozen, hands pressed against the table so hard her knuckles were white. “That’s a ripe clanker if I ever heard one.”

“It’s true,” Han said. “Why else do you think we—”

“Liar!” Cat shook her head, eyes glittering. “You’re a glavering, gutter- swiving, muck- sucking liar, Cuffs Alister, that’s what you are. You an’t going to Oden’s Ford, no bloody way.” Cat scraped back her chair and stood, fists clenched, vibrating with rage.

“I swear it,” Han said, sliding to his feet and keeping the table between them in case she drew a blade on him. “I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I thought you—”

“Shut it, Cuffs. If you didn’t want me to come with, you should’ve just said so.” She scooped up her money and stuffed it into her carry bag. “You think because you’re pretty that every girlie wants to walk out with you. Well, you an’t so pretty that I can’t find somebody else.”

She stalked out of the tavern, letting the door slam behind her.

Well, Han thought. Least she’s more like her old self, anyway.

Chapter Five Into The Fens Chapter Five - Into The Fens Chapter Six - Flatland Demons Chapter Seven - On The Road Again Chapter Eight - Oden’s Ford Chapter Nine - The Road West Chapter Ten - Cadet Chapter Eleven - Mystwerk House Chapter Twelve - Raised from the Dead Chapter Thirteen - Charmcasting for Beginners Chapter Fourteen - Dean’s Dinner Chapter Fifteen - Friends And Enemies Chapter Sixteen - A Meeting With The Dean Chapter Seventeen - In Mystwerk Tower Chapter Eighteen - Abelard’s Crew Chapter Nineteen - Caught In The Act Chapter Twenty - Star-Crossed Chapter Twenty-One - A Vermin Problem Chapter Twenty-Two - The Waking Dream Chapter Twenty-Three - A Meeting Of Exiles Chapter Twenty-Four - News From Home Chapter Twenty-Five - Blueblood Ways Chapter Twenty-Six - Dangerous Dancing Chapter Twenty-Seven - When Dreams Turn to Nightmares Chapter Twenty-Eight - Word from Home Chapter Twenty-Nine - A Babe in the Woods Chapter Thirty - This Rough Magic Chapter Thirty-One - Betrayal Chapter Thirty-Two - Shifting Alliances Chapter Thirty-Three - Matrimony or Murder Chapter Thirty-Four - Shoulder Taps Chapter Thirty-Five - Old Friends Chapter Thirty-Six - Detours Chapter Thirty-Seven - A Parting of the Ways Keep Reading Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом. By Cinda Williams Chima About the Publisher

After the encounter with the renegade guards on the western slope, Raisa worried they’d have more trouble at Westgate. But when they arrived at the West Wall in the early morning, Mac Gillen was nowhere to be seen. The guards at the gate were mostly regular army, a mixture of gray- jacketed Highlanders and mercenaries with striped trim.

The sergeant in charge was a Queen’s Guardsman, though, named Barlow. When Amon told Barlow that they were cadets traveling to Oden’s Ford via Westgate, the sergeant greeted him with derision.

“So you don’t want to go through Arden, eh? You cadets wouldn’t want to get your uniforms dirty, would you?” he said, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to have to blood your shiny new weapons before you show ’em off at school.”

It was the typical disdain of the line soldier for the academy-bred. The members of the Wolfpack seethed, but Amon ignored it. He’d seemed preoccupied, having even less to say than usual since the incident with Sloat and the rescue by the Demonai warriors.

Disappointed that Amon didn’t rise to the bait, Barlow added, “Well, Corporal, if you think this way’s safer than travelin’ through Arden, you’ll soon find out different.”