Micah clenched his fists. “I’d never do anything to hurt Raisa. I had nothing to do with this, and I’m not taking the blame for it, you can trust me on that.”

“I don’t trust you on anything,” Han shot back. “Where is she? Where’s the queen? You’d better hope she’s all right.”

“Do you really expect me to tell you?” Micah turned away, back to the fire line.

Furious, Han scanned the riverbank, then stopped a passing bluejacket, who pointed across the bridge. “I think she’s over to Southbridge Temple,” he said. “Something about medical supplies.”

The temple close was cool and shady after the intense heat on the other side of the river. Was it just a few years ago that Han had been there as a student, before the siren call of the streets had lured him away?

Just inside the doors, he saw her. For a long moment, Han stood frozen, drinking her in, helpless with relief. She was wearing her fancy temple clothes, but she’d ripped the skirt off above her knees to allow more freedom of movement.

She knelt on the stone floor stuffing bandages into a carry bag, while a young dedicate waited, shifting from foot to foot. When the bag was full, she thrust it into his arms.

“The infirmary is set up in the sanctuary,” she said. “They’ll be wanting these now.”

The boy tore away as if she’d lit a fire under him.

And then Raisa looked up and saw Han.

“Han! Thank the Lady!” She sprinted toward him, barreling into him with the force of a much larger person, flinging her arms around him and all but knocking him over.

He could only pull her close and feel her warmth against him, and reassure himself that she still breathed and the Bayars hadn’t managed to take her from him—not yet, anyway.

Raisa looked up at Han, her green eyes brilliant in a very dirty face. Her cheekbone was purple and swollen, and she smelt of wood smoke.

“I was scared to death when you didn’t come,” she said. “The flames were so thick, and Micah said the meeting ended hours ago. He thought you’d be right behind him.”

It hasn’t been that long since the meeting ended, Han thought. “You’re hurt,” he whispered, gently touching her cheek, his throat hoarse from smoke and shouting.

“The pump handle caught me right in the face,” Raisa said. Her eyes pooled with tears. “This is nothing. We don’t know how many dead there are, but we’ve got some serious injuries on our hands, and I don’t know where these people are going to live.” Her voice trembled.

Mastering herself, she took a step back, keeping hold of his hands. “Where’s Dancer? I thought he’d be with you.”