Micah walked in, his black eyes fastening on Raisa, narrowing in pain and dismay as he took in her appearance. Dog growled, deep in his throat, and pressed up against Raisa’s legs.

Bringing up the rear was Char Dunedain, another mixed-blood soldier, commander of what was left of the Fellsian army.

As Dunedain went to shut the door, Reid Nightwalker slipped past her, into the room, to join the others.

They stood in an awkward circle around her, except for Jemson and Magret, who kept their positions along the wall.

“What’s this?” Raisa asked, looking from face to face for clues. “Are we having a meeting?”

“Of sorts,” Amon said.

“There’s others would be here, if they could,” Cat volunteered. “I know Fire Dancer would.” She tilted her head back, sliding a look down her nose at Micah.

“There are other wizards who would be here, if they were free to be,” Micah said.

“And many among the Demonai,” Nightwalker countered, as if not to be outdone.

“There are some on duty on the walls would want to be here, too,” Hallie said. “Many from Ragmarket and Southbridge, too.”

“All right,” Raisa said, made impatient by weariness. “You’re saying that half the queendom would be in this room if they could. And you are all here because…?”

“Some of us don’t get along,” Cat said, looking up at the ceiling.

“We don’t agree on much,” Talia said, in the low rough voice she’d acquired since an assassin cut her throat in front of Raisa’s door.

“And we believe in different things,” Micah added.

“But there’s one thing we all believe in,” Mick said. “You.”

Caught by surprise, Raisa looked up. “Me?”

Mick nodded. “I told you once before that I was proud to fight shoulder to shoulder with you. That still holds—more than ever, with the southerners just outside.”

“I am Ardenine,” Pearlie said, “but this is the first place that I’ve felt at home.” She took Talia’s hand. “I came for love, but I will pick up my weapons and lay down my life for my adopted queen and country.”

“This is sacred ground,” Nightwalker said. “And its blood runs in your veins. We will spill our own blood, if necessary, to drive out the invaders.”

Magret took a step forward. “I am a Maiden of Hanalea,” she said. “I went into orders so that I could serve the Gray Wolf line. I loved Queen Marianna. I served her to the last. I prepared her body for burial and kept vigil in the temple because the princess heir could not.” She paused, as if to make sure that she had everyone’s undivided attention. “But you”—she pointed at Raisa—“you are the queen we need right now. And I will serve you and the Princess Mellony until the last breath leaves my body.”