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years, they’ve been spectacularly unsuccessful.”

    Han struggled to assemble the bits Crow had given him. it was like working a puzzle that doesn’t reveal its meaning until the last piece is in place.

    except the image that was forming was impossible.

    As if Crow had read Han’s mind, an amulet appeared at Crow’s neck, hanging from a heavy gold chain—the mirror image of Han’s serpent amulet.

    “i am the original owner of the amulet you carry now,” Crow said. “i had it custom made for me when i was about your age. i needed something powerful enough to conjure magic the world had never seen before. There is not another like it in the world.” Han stood frozen, each word he might have spoken stillborn on his tongue.

    “After Hanalea betrayed me, i dared not reveal myself to the Bayars,” Crow said. “So i’ve been lying imprisoned for a millennium. when the amulet came into your hands, i seized the opportunity. naturally, i have done my best to make sure they don’t recover it.”

    Han looked down at his amulet, tracing the serpent head with his fingers. He looked back up at Crow, his mind traveling to the end of that road. “you can’t be serious,” he whispered. “That can’t be true.”

    Crow still smiled, but his blue eyes were hard as glacier ice.
    “My name was Alger waterlow,” he said, caressing the serpent flashpiece. “The last wizard king of the Fells.” Han stared at Crow, speechless, his mind frothing like a potion made with incompatible ingredients.
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    T H e G r Ay wo L F T H ro n e

    Crow inclined his head. “you look suitably stricken, Alister.
    i’ll leave you with that, then, and give you time to think it through before you do or say anything rash. i am, as you’ve no doubt figured out, always here and always available. Come back to Aediion when you are ready to partner with me. if that should ever happen.”

    He gazed at Han for another long moment, searching Han’s face as if hoping Han might stay him. Then he blinked out like a fivepenny candle.
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    C H A p T e r T H r e e
    Bad News and
    Good News
    During the long journey from Fetters Ford to Delphi, raisa managed to forget, now and then, that she was furious.

    Furious with Gerard Montaigne, the monster who held her friends in his grasp.

    Furious with those at home who were conspiring to steal her birthright, by murder or other means.

    Furious with Captain edon Byrne, who seemed willing to sacrifice his own son for the Gray wolf line.

    Furious most of all with herself. Had she not left the queendom nearly a year ago, none of this would have happened.

    But it’s not easy to remain angry while falling asleep in the saddle. raisa would startle awake to find Captain Byrne’s hand on her back, preventing her from toppling to the ground. “eat something, your Highness,” he would say, handing her a sack of dried fruit and nuts. “eating will help keep you awake.” She would accept it without thinking, without remembering 37

    T H e G r Ay wo L F T H ro n e
    that she hadn’t forgiven him. By the time she remembered, he’d have spurred his horse forward or dropped back behind her, too far away for easy speech. She wasn’t speaking to him either, not unless absolutely necessary, since there was no predicting what might come out of her mouth.

    Byrne drove them on like a man possessed—raisa suspected that he’d have ordered them to ride all night if the horses could have stood it. As it was, they rose before light and rode long past dark—even though the days were growing longer as the fields greened around them and the lower slopes of the northern mountains lost their snowy cloaks.

    Byrne had chosen to travel east, through northern Arden, and not directly north, as raisa had thought to do. His reasoning was simple: “if Lord Bayar knows you were in Fetters Ford, he’ll expect you to enter the queendom via the west wall. we need to do the unexpected.”

    Arden’s forces had been drawn south, to