She nodded. “I understand. But I don’t see where I could go that would be safer. Not Arden. Tamron’s a possibility, I guess,” she said, thinking of Liam Tomlin.

“What about farther south? Bruinswallow or We’enhaven?” Amon said.

“You’re the one who suggested Oden’s Ford in the first place,” Raisa said. “Besides, I don’t know people in Bruinswallow or We’enhaven. That’s my problem. I haven’t been anywhere; I don’t know anyone outside of my own realm except the people who came to my name day party. I could end up someplace where they sacrifice foreign princesses to their gods.” She paused, but Amon didn’t smile. “I can’t put myself under someone else’s control. And I want to stay close enough to get a message to my mother.”

Amon’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t mean that, Rai. It’s too dangerous.”

“She needs to know I’m still alive,” Raisa insisted. “And that I still love her, and that I’m coming back. I don’t want her to have any doubts about that.”

“How are you planning to send a message in a way that doesn’t lead directly back to you?” Amon said. “Here I’m worrying about your running into Micah, and you’re planning to stand up and wave at Lord Bayar and say, ‘Here I am!’”

“I’m not writing to Lord Bayar,” Raisa growled.

“Same as,” Amon retorted. “Besides, because of the war it’s not all that easy to send mail from Oden’s Ford to the Fells.”

“I don’t know how I’ll do it!” Raisa snapped. “Why is it that everything I want to do is dangerous? Everything worthwhile, anyway. Some chances are worth taking.”

Amon muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Corporal?” Raisa demanded. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Amon clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead, his dark eyebrows drawn together.

“What?”

“I said, Your Highness, that the difference between you and me is that if you get yourself killed, you don’t have to blame yourself every day for the rest of your life.”

Raisa’s cheeks warmed as the blood rushed to her face. “Do you really think anyone is out to kill me?” she said softly. “Isn’t it more likely that I’ll be carried back to the Fells to marry Micah if I’m recognized and taken?” She shrugged. “If that happens, I’ll deal with it. As long as I’m alive, I’ll find a way. I promise you this: I will not be a captive queen.”

Amon looked up at the sky, the silvery moonlight washing over his face, gilding his chest and arms. He seemed to be struggling over whether to speak.

“You mentioned prophecy before,” Amon said finally. “I just can’t shake the feeling that you’re risking more than a bad marriage.” He cleared his throat and gestured toward her bedroll. “Best get some sleep, Your Highness. We’ve a long way to go tomorrow.”