“Let go of me!” Micah struggled to free himself. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business, actually,” Averill said, releasing him. “I’ve seen this design, but only in old manuscripts. It predates the Breaking, and it’s forbidden these days.”

Micah rubbed his wrist. “Someone sent it. A name day present. I’ve a whole vault full. What’s it to you?”

Raisa squinted down at it, bleary-eyed. Somehow she hadn’t noticed it before. And now that she looked closer, she saw that it was a ring in the form of a serpent, coiled around Micah’s finger, with rubies for eyes. But there was something familiar about it.

She reached up and touched her necklace. The gold pendant that rested against her skin matched Micah’s ring. It felt warm to the touch.

Averill’s eyes flicked between the two pieces of jewelry. “Where did you get the necklace, Raisa?”

“Hmmm?” For a moment she couldn’t remember. “Oh. It was a gift from the Bayars.”

Averill gripped the pendant and lifted it away from her chest. Beneath it was a red mark burned into her flesh. A snake’s head.

With a roar of anger, Averill ripped the necklace away, breaking the clasp and sending bits flying. He flung the jewelry into Micah’s startled face.

“Just what was it you hoped to accomplish, jinxflinger?” he demanded.

Micah blinked at him, then glanced down at the necklace on the floor. He looked completely bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Raisa doubled over, pressing her hands to her breast, feeling as if her father had ripped out her heart. “Merciful Maker,” she gasped.

Averill looked at her, then closed his eyes for a moment as if struggling for composure. He turned back to Micah. “I’m clan, remember? Demonai. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize it?” Averill gripped the front of Micah’s fancy coat and gave him a hard shake. “She’s not for you, do you understand that? That will never happen.”

Now anger flooded into Micah’s face, replacing bewilderment. “Why not? I’m good enough for the princesses in Tamron.”

“Then marry one of them,” Averill said.

“Who said anything about marriage? Micah said, his black eyes glittering. “But, now that you mention it, why can’t we marry if we want? I’m tired of living by stupid rules made a thousand years ago.”

“You try anything like this again, and the clans will go back to hunting wizards. Starting with you.”

“They’ve never left off hunting wizards,” Micah said bitterly. “We know what you’re plotting, up in the camps. We know you’re a Demonai warrior. We have spies of our own. As for the necklace”—he nudged it with his foot—“all these tales of evil magical amulets are just that—tales. You Demonais always see a magical conspiracy where there is none.”