Micah. Raisa looked up at the stars, focusing, trying to dispel the memory of Micah’s face, of the kisses that had sizzled through her like flame through paper.

“Let’s talk about what will happen when we get to Oden’s Ford,” she said, suddenly eager to change the subject.

“I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered the idea of going to the Temple School?” Amon said this with little hope.

Raisa sighed. “Except for my time at Demonai Camp, I’ve studied art, music, and languages all my life. I need to learn something else.”

She looked up into his face, willing him to understand. “Going to Oden’s Ford is risky, but it’s also an opportunity. None of the Gray Wolf queens has gone there, not recently, anyway. I’ll learn things my mother can’t teach me. The queendom is under siege, and we’re running out of time.” Raisa suddenly realized she was gripping Amon’s hand really hard, and let go her death hold a bit.

Amon looked sideways at her. “Because of what happened with the Bayars?”

Raisa shook her head. “It’s not just them. I feel like the sand is washing from under my feet.” She laughed bitterly. “I sound like my mother, the melancholy queen. But, unlike her, I’m not willing to trade sovereignty for protection.” She paused. “The problem with the gift of prophecy is you’re never sure if it’s a true vision or just the doldrums setting in.

“Lord Bayar is right about one thing—we’re going to be under assault from the south as soon as the Montaignes quit fighting each other. I’ll never be a soldier, but I need to know more about diplomacy, politics, and military strategy. I need to know my enemies better.”

“So you want to go to Wien House.”

She nodded.

The moon freed itself from a veil of clouds, and light spilled into the ruins.

“Micah and Fiona Bayar will be at Mystwerk House as first years,” Amon said, raising an eyebrow. “The Manders, too.”

She sighed. “I guess I’ll run into them sooner or later.”

“Maybe later, if we’re lucky.” He rubbed his nose. “One advantage of Wien House is that it’s on the opposite side of the river from Mystwerk. Warriors, engineers, and accountants—the practical arts—train on one side of the river. Wizards, healers, and the temple artists train on the other side. There’s not much mixing between.”

“Really?” Raisa said, surprised. “Why not?”

Amon smiled, his white teeth flashing against his sun-dark skin. “Any red-robed wizard newling who wanders onto the Wien House side is likely to be pitched into the river. It’s mostly southerners on our side, and they aren’t keen on anything magical.”

“Wouldn’t they think twice about tangling with a wizard?” Raisa said.