“Well then.” She stood, feeling flushed and flustered. “Thank you for coming tonight. I feel like you’re the only friend I have.”

She crossed to the tunnel opening at the center of the temple. “Even if you can’t come to Southbridge, let’s meet here a week from now, and I’ll let you know how it went.”

“If you’re still alive a week from now,” he grumbled.

She grinned at him. “Close the hatch for me, will you?” She began to descend the ladder, feeling more alive than she had since her return to court.

Not that she didn’t feel a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t fair, what she was asking of Amon, and she knew it. He had much more to lose than she did. He was a member of the Queen’s Guard, sworn to her service. His own father, the captain of the Guard, had told him to keep his distance from Raisa.

Then again, it wasn’t like she was asking him to commit treason. She was the princess heir, after all, and he was in her service too.

But he was already in trouble on her account. The Bayars were known to be dangerous enemies, and Micah would be looking for a chance to get back at him. And all her excuses didn’t change the fact that Amon would be the one to suffer if they were found out. A posting to Chalk Cliffs would be the least of it.

C H A P T E R  E L E V E N

SANCTUARY

The Southbridge Temple bells bonged four times. The sound reverberated on the cobblestones, proclaiming that it was four in the morning and any sensible person should be safe in bed. The torches to either side of the blessing entrance still blazed, however, welcoming anyone at need any hour of the day. At this particular moment, Han would have preferred to be hidden in darkness.

Pressing himself into the shadow of the building, Han lifted the elaborate knocker and allowed it to slam against the wooden door a second time. He looked over his shoulder, expecting at any moment to feel the hard grip of the Guard on his arm or the prick of cold steel.

He heard footsteps within, then the rattle of the latch as the door swung in. A white-robed dedicate blinked at him, her pale hair tousled from sleep. She looked to be the same age as Han. “The Maker bless you,” she said, yawning; then her eyes went wide as she focused more closely on him. “What happened to you, mate?” she demanded, her Southbridge accent surfacing. “You been in a fight?” she asked, avid curiosity driving away sleep.