Raisa’s mouth was so dry she could scarcely spit out any words. “What…what is this?” she whispered. “Isn’t it late to be having a party?”

“Your Majesty,” Lord Bayar said, his blue eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Perhaps you should explain.”

“Raisa,” Queen Marianna said. “You know we’ve been talking—well, strategizing—about the best match for you now that you are eligible for marriage.”

Raisa glanced at her mother, then at Gavan Bayar. “Who’s been talking—you and I, or you and them?”

“All of us, of course. Remember, we agreed that a southerner is not the best choice just now with all the upheaval in Arden and Tamron.”

“We never agreed on that,” Raisa said. “The war has to be over before long, and then we’ll have more options,” she said, thinking of Prince Liam. “An alliance between Tamron and the Fells might be enough to prevent invasion from Arden, if we time it right.”

Marianna stared at Raisa as if her daughter had grown another head with an inconveniently talkative mouth.

“It’s not necessarily in our interest to prevent a war between Arden and Tamron, Your Highness,” Lord Bayar said, verbally patting her on the head. “Such a war would deplete Arden’s resources and distract them from consideration of an attack on us.”

“If Arden wins, it will be more of a threat than ever,” Raisa said, recalling her conversation with Prince Gerard.

“And there’s no one among the clan royalty who would be a suitable match,” Marianna rushed on. “Averill is your father, and the Matriarch of Marisa Pines is unmarried with a bastard son.”

“There are cousins at Demonai Camp who might be suitable,” Raisa said, thinking of Reid. “When Father returns, we can see what he says.”

“Your father’s opinion might be…interesting, but not especially important,” Queen Marianna said, looking put out that Raisa was being so uncooperative. “We also need to think about the role wizards may play in any upcoming conflict, and what we might need to do to cement our interests more closely together.”

“The High Wizard is magically bound to the queen of the Fells,” Raisa said. “Therefore, our interests already coincide. Besides, what does our relationship with wizards have to do with my marriage?”

If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have seen it coming. Looking back, she concluded that she was being extraordinarily thick.

Queen Marianna drew herself up the way she always did when she expected Raisa to be obstinate. “Raisa, we have chosen a match for you for the good of the realm and the Line of Queens. You will marry Micah sul’Bayar.”

For a moment, Raisa was convinced she’d misheard. That her mother was joking, somehow, despite the scowl on her face. That it was some kind of test of her knowledge of the covenant known as the Nǽming.

That it couldn’t possibly be true.