Markus the Fourth, King of Tamron, had sent a set of priceless enameled jewelry boxes and an invitation to visit his waterside cottage at Sand Harbor. The boxes were inscribed with the initials M and R intertwined. Markus seemed completely undeterred by the fact that he was sixty years old and had three wives already.

Aerie House had gifted her with a tiara and necklace set with emeralds and rubies, their strong colors more suited to her dark hair and green eyes than the moonstones and topazes her mother favored. The pendant on the necklace was the image of a snake with glittering gold-and-silver scales. They were in an old-fashioned style, and Raisa wondered if they were family heirlooms.

We’enhaven’s gift was an inlaid and jeweled desk set made of tropical woods. Demonai sent clan ceremonial robes made of softest doeskin, painted and beaded with her Gray Wolf totem, and Marisa Pines contributed matching dancing shoes and a fur throw for her bed.

Which reminded Raisa that, though her father came from clan royalty, the camps had not yet put forward a candidate for her hand. She wondered if they would.

Setting the Aerie House and clan items aside, Raisa shoveled jewelry and small art pieces into her carry bag until it was bulging. She focused on smaller, less distinctive items from foreign sources that would be least likely to be recognized.

This will do for a start, Raisa thought. Shouldering her carry bag, she left the treasure store and crossed her bed chamber to the other closet and the entrance to the tunnel. There she changed into her disguise and climbed the ladder into the solarium.

By the time she descended into the palace proper, the lanterns were lit along the corridors, and the mouth-watering scent of roasting meat emanated from the kitchens. Raisa kept to the servants’ hallways, but they were unfamiliar, so she kept getting turned around. She walked briskly, looking straight ahead as if she were on some important mission that couldn’t be interrupted. It wasn’t easy since she didn’t really know the way.

She was just passing the pantries when ahead of her she saw the imposing figure of Mandy Bulkleigh, Mistress of Kitchens, standing, arms crossed, her eyes scouring the corridors like those of some predatory bird.

Bones, Raisa thought, quickening her pace and lowering her head still farther.

Bulkleigh allowed her to get almost past, then said in her booming voice, “You! Girl!”

Raisa didn’t slow down, didn’t even look up. Three more steps, and she heard Bulkleigh coming after her.

She might have made it, but her feet got caught in her too-long skirts, and she stumbled. Bulkleigh’s hamlike hand closed on her upper arm, jerking her upright.

“You! Girl! Are you deaf?” she demanded.