You finally wore it, Raisa, Micah had said, in his intense fashion. I was afraid perhaps you didn’t like it.

“But why would he use it on me?” Raisa asked. “It does him no good.” There was a plague of throat clearing, and her face went hot again. “I mean, aside from—you know. Whatever he said at the party, he knows we can’t marry. He should be using it on Princess Marina or someone like that.”

As soon as she said it, she realized he wouldn’t need it for that purpose either. Political marriages were what they were, arranged by others to create alliances and build power. Seduction had nothing to do with it. And even if it did, Raisa had no doubt Micah Bayar would do quite well on his own.

“That’s the question, isn’t it,” Averill said, looking grave. “Why would he use it on you?”

I know somewhere we can go, Micah had said. And yet…

“I don’t think he knew what it was,” Raisa said. “I think the whole thing took him by surprise.”

“Raisa,” her father began, looking troubled, “I know you like to think the best of people—”

Raisa put up her hand. “Just stop. I do not like to think the best of people. In fact, I often think the worst. Especially about Micah Bayar. But he looked completely blindsided when you ripped off my necklace and threw it at him. I think he had no clue there was a connection between his ring and my necklace. He thought he was charming me all on his own.”

Amon spoke for the first time. “Let me get this straight. You think it was a coincidence that you were both wearing jinxpieces?” He raised that annoying eyebrow.

“If it wasn’t him, someone else arranged it,” Averill said. “The question is, why. And if they have this weapon, what else do they have? And where are they keeping it?”

“Where’s the ring I gave you?” Elena asked abruptly. “I told you to keep it on.”

Raisa frowned, remembering. “Oh. I was going to wear it, but Mother suggested I wear the emerald necklace instead.”

They all stared at her.

“What?” Raisa asked irritably. “You think my mother the queen is involved in a conspiracy against her own daughter? No. I’m sure it was a matter of fashion, not politics.”

“Where is the ring now?” Elena asked.

Raisa struggled to remember. “It’s on my dressing table.” She waved vaguely toward the sitting room.

“I’ll fetch it,” Amon said, and bolted through the doorway as if glad to have a job to do. He returned moments later with the ring clutched in his large fist. He handed it to Raisa.

She hung it around her neck again. The ring felt cold against her heated skin.