Read Online The Demon King by Cinda Williams Chima - Free Book Online Page B

down in the chair by the door, still studying the envelope while Magret tugged at her boots. They left smears of mud and ash on the nurse’s pristine white apron.
    Raisa’s name was written on the front of the note in a neat, upright hand—naggingly familiar. She tore it open and unfolded the page inside.
    Raisa, I’m home. Come find me if you get this before dinner. I’ll be in the usual place. Amon
    “Amon’s home!” Raisa cried, surging to her feet, one boot off and one on. She gripped Magret’s elbows and danced her around the room, ignoring her outraged protests. She felt rather like a tugboat towing one of the big ships in Chalk Cliffs Harbor.
    “In the name of the sainted Hanalea, stop, Your Highness,” Magret said, struggling for dignity. Wrenching her arms free, she began pulling off Raisa’s jacket.
    “No!” Raisa said, twisting away. “Hang on, Magret, I need to go find Amon. I need to find out what he—”
    Magret planted herself in front of the door. “You need to get into that bath and scrub off. If he sees you in this state, you’ll scare him half to death.”
    “Magret!” Raisa protested. “Come on. It’s just Amon. He doesn’t care about—”
    “Amon’s kept this long, he’ll keep a little while longer. You’re expected at dinner in two hours and you smell like you just came out of the smoker.”
    Still grumbling, Raisa allowed herself to be stripped of the rest of her clothing and climbed into her bath. She had to admit, it felt wonderful. The hot water stung her many cuts and scrapes, but soothed and relaxed her aching muscles.
    Magret dangled Raisa’s charred shirt and leggings out at arm’s length, wrinkling her nose. “These are going straight to Ragmarket,” she declared.
    “Please, Magret,” Raisa protested, horrified. “You can’t throw them away. They’re the only comfortable clothes I own.”
    Scowling, Magret pitched them in the laundry basket.
    It took all of the two hours for Magret to make Raisa what she called “presentable.” Magret produced a new dress that she’d made over from one of Marianna’s old ones. It was a pleasant surprise—less fussy than the dresses Marianna chose for Raisa, a simple fall of emerald silk that draped her body, cut low enough at the neck to be a bit daring.
    Magret coaxed Raisa’s still-damp hair into a coil and pinned it up on her head, then set her gold circlet on top. To finish, her nurse added Raisa’s briar rose necklace—a gift from her father, Averill Lightfoot. Briar Rose was her clan name. He called her Briar Rose, he said, because of her beauty. And her many thorns.
    When Raisa finally entered the dining room, it was already crowded. A string quartet tuned up in one corner, servers with trays circulated through the room, and the usual court grazers swarmed about a side table laden with cheeses, fruits, and wine.
    She quickly scanned the room for Amon, though she didn’t really expect to see him there. Unlikely that he’d be invited to mingle with the aristocracy.
    Across the room, Raisa saw her grandmother, Elena Demonai, Matriarch of Demonai Camp. She stood with a small group of other clan, wearing the flowing, elaborately embroidered robes they reserved for special occasions.
    She went and took her grandmother’s hands, bowing her head over them in clan fashion.
    “Good day, Cennestre Demonai,” she said in Clan.
    “Best to speak the lowland language here, granddaughter,” Elena replied. “Lest the flatlanders think we’re passing secrets.”
    “Have you heard anything of my father?” Raisa persisted, still in Clan. Annoying flatlanders was one of her few sources of entertainment these days.
    “He’ll be home soon,” Elena said. “For your name day feast, if not before.”
    Her father had gone south on yet another trading expedition, crossing Arden to We’enhaven and beyond. Risky in wartime, but in wartime, trade goods brought high prices.
    “I worry about him,” Raisa said. “They say the