“Captain Byrne and his triple were not the only heroes,” Raisa continued, determined to shape the telling of this story before it got away from her. “After I was wounded, Han Alister risked his own life to save mine.” She paused, watching their faces closely. “I understand that some of you know him as Hunts Alone.”

Averill glanced at Elena, raising an eyebrow. Elena nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Alister’s here?” Amon said. His gray eyes searched the room.

Raisa tilted her head toward the back room. “He’s in there, fighting for his life.”

“Blood of the demon!” Amon took a step toward the partition. “Was he wounded? What did he…?”

“There’s more news, daughter,” Averill said quickly, a warning in his voice. “More news that cannot wait.”

Raisa turned around and looked up into her father’s haggard features, newly engraved with loss and grief—yes, and fear. For once, her father’s trader face betrayed him.

“Lightfoot,” Elena said. “What is it? What’s happened?”

Averill put his hands on Raisa’s shoulders and looked down into her face. “She’s gone, Briar Rose,” he said. “Your mother—Queen Marianna—she is dead.”

C H A P T E R  T W E L V E

BEQUEST

Raisa twisted away from her father’s touch, shaking her head.

“No,” she snapped. “That can’t be. That’s not possible.” Her eyes searched the faces around her, looking for reassurance, finding none. Willo’s expression said that this news was not unexpected, that it confirmed her worst fears. Raisa could tell that her grandmother, Elena, was already strategizing, turning this over in her mind, assessing what this might mean to the Spirit clans—the Demonai, specifically.

Averill looked as if he wished he could somehow shield Raisa from this news and all its implications. He was widower and parent, both, in that moment.

“Oh,” Raisa said, her voice trembling, “this is a dark season.”

Elena Demonai dropped to her knees and bowed her gray head. “Long life to Raisa ana’Marianna, named Briar Rose in the uplands, Gray Wolf Queen of the Fells.”

Amon drew his sword. He fell to his knees in front of Raisa, laying the blade at her feet. “My sword and my life in your service, Your Highness.”

Like a stand of lodgepole pines in a gale, they all went down, leaving Raisa standing alone.

That’s the way it’s going to be, she thought. There’s no shelter for me—not from any of this. I’ll stand alone the rest of my life. She stood, fists clenched, head bowed, allowing a shuddering sob to pass through her body as her dreams of a reconciliation with her mother collapsed into dust.