Where did you get that? Raisa wanted to ask. You’re too young. You’ve never been to Oden’s Ford. You’re not allowed to have an amulet.

That was her mistake, thinking wizards would play by the rules.

Micah muttered a few words in the northern speech, bending his head down close to her ear. She felt the sizzle of magic through his hands. It passed through her body and down her left arm, leaving nothing behind but tingling nerves and a vague desire to please.

And then she remembered: she wore Elena’s ring on her left hand. It is what we call a talisman, Elena had said. It offers some protection against high magic.

Here was a chance, if she could somehow take advantage of it. She couldn’t let them know about the ring, or they’d have it off her in a trice. She had to play along, make them think he’d charmed her.

What spell would Micah have used on her? Calm your bride, Lord Bayar had said.

She looked up at Micah. He was studying her face, obviously trying to determine if his jinx had taken.

She widened her eyes, conjuring an expression of vacancy. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I’m being silly. It’s just that it’s all so sudden.” She looked down at the floor, fearing Micah would spot the fury in her eyes. “I always dreamed we could be together, but I assumed it was impossible.”

She heard an audible release of breath around her, the sound of relief.

“Me too,” Micah said cautiously, as if he didn’t quite believe it. He released his death grip a fraction. “I can’t tell you…how frustrating it’s been, to yearn for what I could never have.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, and she felt the sting of magic again. She resisted the urge to flinch away.

What argument would speak to her mother? Assuming she was reachable at all?

“The thing is, I’ve always dreamed of a big wedding, Mama,” Raisa said, looking directly at the queen. “I wanted everyone to be there—my grandmother Elena, my father, the clan in their colors, heads of state from all over the Seven Realms. I’d have four bridesmaids to carry my train, and I’d walk up the aisle over a carpet of rose petals.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” the queen said, blinking at her in surprise. “It’s what every girl dreams of.” Except, until now, her daughter Raisa.

“You had that, Mama,” Raisa said reproachfully. “You had five hundred people in the temple, and it took the dressmakers a year to stitch the seed pearls onto your dress. Bonfires blazed on every hill to commemorate it. The feasting lasted for six days, and they filled three storehouses with the wedding gifts.”