Amon did not move, but looked from Raisa to Micah, scowling. “What’d you do to her?” he demanded. “She looks like she’s in some kind of trance.”

Again, Raisa heard her father’s voice. Coming closer. “Raisa!”

“Lord Demonai!” Amon shouted. “She’s here! In the corridor! With Micah Bayar. Hurry up!”

“Blood and bones,” Micah swore. “When will you learn to stop meddling? You’ll pay for this.” He let go of Raisa’s hand and chose a pastry from a nearby tray. Then leaned against the wall, waiting.

And suddenly her father was there, his face like a thundercloud over Hanalea.

“Ah. Well. I’ll be going, then,” Amon said, edging back toward the ballroom. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he were pleased with himself.

“You! Stay where you are until I get this sorted out,” Averill said, and Amon froze in place.

Averill picked Raisa’s wrap up off the floor where it had fallen, and settled it over her shoulders. As he did so, he seemed to fix on Raisa’s necklace. He stared at it for a long moment, then turned back to Micah.

“What are you two doing back here?” he demanded, glaring at him.

Micah shrugged and waved the pastry. He was trying to look casual, but his hand was shaking. “I was encouraging the princess to eat something. I think she’s had a bit too much to drink.”

“Oh, really? Is that what it is?”

Averill took hold of Raisa’s chin and gazed into her eyes. He looked so peculiar. She laughed, then flinched when he gripped harder.

“Not so hard,” she complained, wresting herself free. Why was he being like this? “Micah and I were just leaving.”

“Were you?” Averill suddenly seemed very tall and imposing in his clan robes.

“I was going to show her the view off the terrace,” Micah said, popping the rest of the pastry into his mouth and licking his fingers. He had powdered sugar on his lips, and Raisa impulsively pulled his head down and kissed it away. His kisses had been sweet-hot already, and who knew how much sweeter they might be now.

“Raisa,” Micah whispered rather thickly, sliding his arms around her again, ignoring Averill’s glowering expression.

Micah seemed a little intoxicated himself.

“Raisa!” Averill pulled her away and pushed her down into a chair. “You’re not yourself. I think it’s time we called for your carriage.”

“It’s early yet,” Micah said. He cleared his throat, looking from Raisa to Averill, back to Raisa. “Please, Your Highness. Stay a while longer. It’s my name day, after all.”

“I think not,” Averill said, his voice hard and even. “Go on back to the party, jinxflinger. But first I want to know where you got this.” Averill’s hand closed on Micah’s wrist. He lifted Micah’s hand, displaying an elaborately carved ring set with emeralds and rubies.