“That’s my fault, and I’m sorry,” Raisa said. “It was a stupid thing to do, going to Southbridge Temple without an escort. It could have ended much worse.”

She’d never have met Han Alister. She wouldn’t have to feel bad that he was dead.

Averill waved her regrets away. “You have to take chances, Raisa. What seems safest on its face may not be in the long run. Your ministry is making a real difference in Southbridge and Ragmarket. Speaker Jemson is working wonders with the money you’ve provided.”

“I’ve meant to go and visit,” Raisa said, pacing again. “But everything is so hard right now. I feel like a prisoner.”

Averill fingered the Demonai pendant that hung around his neck. “Could it be that your mother already has a match in mind for you?”

Raisa stopped pacing and swung around. “I’ve told her I don’t want to marry any time soon.”

Averill shrugged. “Sometimes monarchs must act on a match, whether the timing is ideal or not. You’ve heard of child marriages among the nobility, I know, especially in the south. Not that you’re a child any longer, Raisa.”

Raisa studied her father’s face, hoping he was teasing her, but he looked completely serious. “There’s so much I want to do before I get married,” she said. “With the war going on, I haven’t even had the chance to travel. I’d like to go to Tamron and We’enhaven and Arden, and see how they do things there. I want to see Oden’s Ford. I want to go sailing on the Indio and visit the Northern Isles.”

“And get captured by pirates, no doubt.” Averill held up his hand, laughing. “You are too much like me, daughter. Unable to keep still for very long. I take it your mother hasn’t mentioned a specific suitor, then?”

Raisa shook her head. “She does seem to be opposed to a southern match, though. She said things were too unsettled, that I might marry someone who’d lose his throne the next week. I said, Fine, I have my own throne. I told her we should wait until the war is over and it’s all sorted out.”

“What did she say to that?” Averill asked.

“Well.” Raisa thought back to her conversation with the queen. “She seems to be in a hurry. You know how she is. She wants to see me settled.” A cold dread settled under Raisa’s breastbone. Did the queen really intend to marry her off before she’d had a chance to do anything?

Who would it be? One of the Klemaths? Jon Hakkam? About the best that could be said for them was that they’d be easy to manage.

“I’m going to wait until after I’m crowned,” Raisa said. “And then I’ll marry whoever I like.”