Cinda Chima - The Demon King

Raisa didn’t know Adam very well. He’d been away at school at Oden’s Ford for three years. Even when he was home, he seemed to prefer the company of books. His acid tongue drove off those who might otherwise pity him. His parents must have dragged him back to court for the season.

Raisa’s cousins Jon and Melissa Hakkam were there, and Raisa’s sister, Mellony, whose royal status gave her standing with the older crowd. The handsome, blond, vacant Klemath brothers, Kip and Keith, were stuffing down cheese, laughing loudly at nothing in particular. Their parents probably had hopes that one of the two would catch Raisa’s eye. They’d been courting her with a clumsy enthusiasm, like a pair of sloppy-tongued golden retrievers.

“Could I bring you a glass of wine, Your Highness?” Keith asked.

“I’ll bring you one too,” Kip added, glaring at his brother. They bounded off.

As if she would marry anyone named Kip.

Micah leaned against the fireplace, flanked by his twin sister, Fiona, and surrounded by his usual coterie of admiring girls. Melissa and Mellony hung on his every word. Raisa had to admit, he’d cleaned up well—he wore a black silk coat and gray trousers that set off his falcon stoles. His hands were bandaged and he still looked rather pale against his mane of blue-black hair. As Raisa watched, he set an empty wineglass on a table and grabbed a full one from a passing server. Fiona leaned in and murmured something to him. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. He shook his head, scowling, and turned slightly away from her.

Both wizards, Fiona and Micah were like negative images of each other, each striking. They were the same height and shared the same lean bone structure, angular facial features, and acerbic wit. Fiona’s hair was stark white, down to her eyelashes and eyebrows; even her eyes were a pale blue, like shadow on snow.

Fiona and Micah quarreled constantly, but cross one and you’d have both to contend with.

“Weren’t you frightened when you saw the fire?” Missy asked Micah, her blue eyes wide and horrified. “I know I would have turned tail and run right back down the mountain.”

Raisa struggled to keep from making a face or mimicking Missy’s vapid demeanor.

A lady keeps critical thoughts to herself.

“ I was frightened,” Mellony put in, blushing. “But Micah came riding right into our midst and told us the fire was coming, that we should make a run for it. He was already burned from trying to put the fire out, but he wasn’t scared at all.”

Micah seemed uncharacteristically reluctant to talk about his exploits. “Well, good it came out all right in the end. Would anyone else like more wine?”

“Didn’t Mellony say you came late to the hunt?” Missy said, putting her shoulders back to better display her oversized bosom. “How did you get between the queen and the fire?”

Good question, Raisa thought, amazed that Missy had come up with it. Keeping next to the wall, she sidled closer.

Micah seemed to think it was a good question too. He took a long swallow of wine, thinking about it. “Well, ah, we saw the fire from below, so we took a shortcut, hoping to catch them and…” Micah looked up and saw Raisa, taking full advantage of the distraction. “Here is Princess Raisa now,” he said, sweeping down into an elegant bow.

Raisa extended her hand. Micah grasped it and raised it to his lips, then lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, sending a whisper of power through his fingers. She flinched and withdrew her hand. Young wizards sometimes leaked magic, but he smiled in a way that said he was showing off.

Raisa stepped on his foot and smiled at him in a way that said that wasn’t an accident either.

Fiona glared at Raisa, somehow making herself even taller while delivering a chilly curtsy.

Well, all right, Raisa thought, feeling guilty. Perhaps your brother’s had a little too much wine. To be fair, he did save my life, he deserves to celebrate, and he’s probably in some degree of pain.

“Micah is being too modest,” Raisa said, in a kind of backhanded apology. “The fire came on us like a downhill stampede. We were trapped in a narrow canyon with flames on all sides, and I thought for certain we would all burn to death. If not for Micah and his father and the Mander brothers, we would have. They put the fire out completely. It was amazing. They saved our lives.”

“Oh, Micah ,” Missy exclaimed. She reached for his hands, recoiled at the sight of the bandages, then wound her arms around his neck and gazed up into his eyes. “You are a hero!”

Micah looked flustered enough to be charming, and untangled himself as soon as he could, shooting glances at Raisa.

Don’t worry , she thought. I’m not jealous. Only annoyed with Missy.

“How do you suppose the fire started?” Missy asked, flicking her elaborate curls back into place. “It’s been raining for weeks.”

“Father thinks the clans might have had something to do with it,” Micah said. “They’re always keen on keeping people out of the mountains.”

“Wizards,” Raisa said. “They’re keen on keeping wizards out of the Spirits. But the clans would never set fire to Hanalea.”

Micah inclined his head. “I stand corrected, Your Highness,” he said. “You are familiar with their ways and I am not.” He forced a smile. “It’s a mystery, then.”

“Well, I don’t trust them,” Missy declared, glancing about to locate the Demonai delegation before she continued. “They slip around like thieves, and they’re always muttering to each other in that foreign language so you never know what they’re saying. And everybody knows they steal babies and replace them with demons.”

“Don’t repeat nonsense, Melissa,” Raisa snapped. “Children are fostered with the clans for their own good, to teach them the old ways. Besides, the clans were here first. If there’s a foreign language spoken in the Fells, it’s Vale-speech.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Missy said hastily. “I meant no offense. But Valespeech is a more civilized tongue. We use it at court,” she added, as if that settled that.

The quartet had completed its warm-up, and now the first strains of real music floated over them.

“Would you care to dance, Your Highness?” Micah asked abruptly. Beyond him, the Klemaths were practically slapping their foreheads that they hadn’t thought of it first.

Wil quickly offered his arm to Fiona. “Lady Bayar, it would be my honor.”

Missy scowled, having been overlooked. She glanced around for other prospects.

Adam Gryphon smiled crookedly. “Would you care to dance, Lady Hakkam?” he said, making as if to swing his canes into position.

“Well—ah—perhaps I’ll go and fetch some punch,” Missy said, fleeing in the direction of the punch bowl.

Too bad Missy’s disablity is between her ears, Raisa thought. She wanted to say something to Adam, but knew he’d come back with a cutting response.

Micah offered his arm, leading her to the small dance floor. She put one hand at his waist and cradled the bandaged hand carefully with the other.

They circled the floor, floating on the music. Raised at court, Micah was an excellent dancer, despite his several glasses of wine and stomped-on foot. But then, he did everything relentlessly well.

“How are your hands?” Raisa asked. “Do they hurt very much?”

“They’re all right.” He seemed tense and unusually inarticulate.

“What happened this morning?” Raisa persisted. “Why were you so late?”

“Raider came up lame. We had to pull a shoe, and it took longer than expected.”

“You must keep a dozen horses at court. You couldn’t ride another?”