“I do want him there,” Raisa said. “He needs to see and accept that we are married, and that a marriage between me and him is not going to happen.” She paused for a heartbeat. “Besides, Mellony wants him there.”

“When Mellony goes to temple, she can invite whoever she wants,” Han growled.

Han had no desire to make show for Micah—which surprised him a little. They’d all suffered too many losses. Though the small chapel would be filled, Han would still see the empty places where loved ones should have been. And so would Micah.

Han didn’t want those accusing black eyes fixed on him. He had no desire to feel guilty on his wedding day.

“Han,” Raisa said, taking his hands in hers. “We need Micah. He is one of the most powerful wizards we have, aside from you and Dancer. We’ve lost so many of the gifted in the past year—irreplaceable talent. Montaigne will be back—you know he will. To be defeated by a woman who spurned his offer of marriage—he won’t be able to live with that. He has all of the assets of Arden and Tamron at his disposal. We’ll need to make the most of our strengths so that we will be ready when he returns.”

In the end, of course, Raisa got her way.

Han dressed in his room adjoining Raisa’s, distracted by the image of her doing the same on the other side of the door. Raisa had Cat, Magret, Missy, and some others to help her. Han had Dancer, who, clad in comfortable clan garb, simply sat, looking vastly amused as Han fussed with his flatland clothes.

Raisa had given Han a shirt of linen so fine it caressed his skin like flower petals. Willo had given him a deep chestnut coat and fine leather boots. The dressmakers had contributed wizard stoles in gold and chestnut, inscribed with the Waterlow ravens, and close-fitting trousers. It was not as fancy as some might wear for a royal wedding, but it suited him.

Dancer had made Raisa and Han plain platinum bands to match their flashcraft betrothal rings.

There came a tapping at the door. “They are ready for you,” Magret Gray said.

They followed Magret down the corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing against marble. Gripping her skirts in either hand, Magret ascended the stairs to the rooftop garden, with Han and Dancer in her wake.

Two bluejackets bracketed the gate. They moved to either side to allow Magret to pass between them, like a great ship through a narrow channel. Han and Dancer followed behind.

The garden was abloom with wizard lights and autumn flowers—mums and asters and frostlilies. As they approached the small temple, Han could hear the haunting notes of Cat’s basilka.

Raisa was waiting for them just inside the door.