Now and again she saw flashes of the boy she remembered. He stood a bit self-consciously, back straight, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Once she caught him staring at her, but he looked away quickly when their eyes met, spots of color showing on his cheeks.

She felt flustered, disconcerted, almost angry. How could Amon have turned into this other person while he was away? If they did meet, what could she possibly say to him? Sweet Leeza’s teeth, you’re tall?

“Your Highness?” The words were spoken rather loudly almost in her ear, and Raisa jumped and turned toward Micah Bayar. “You’ve scarcely touched your food, and I feel like I’m talking to myself,” he said as dessert was set before them. There was an edge to his voice that said he was irritated.

“I’m sorry,” Raisa said. “I’m afraid I’m a little distracted. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.” She poked at her pastry, wishing she were young again and could be dismissed from the table early.

“It’s no wonder you’re weary, Your Highness, after the scare this morning,” Lord Bayar said, smiling. “Perhaps a walk in the garden after dinner would restore you. Micah would be happy to accompany you.”

“Oh!” Raisa said. “Well. That’s very kind of you to think of me, Lord Bayar, but I really…”

Micah leaned in closer, speaking into Raisa’s ear so only she could hear. “Some of us are meeting later in the card room in the east wing,” he murmured. “Should be entertaining. Please come.” His hot hand closed over hers, pressing it to the table. A promise.

“What?” Raisa said distractedly.

Micah’s breath hissed through his teeth. “You keep staring at the door. Are you that eager to leave? Or is it someone in particular you’re looking at?”

Now Raisa was irritated. “I’ll thank you to mind your own business, sul’Bayar. I’ll look wherever I like.”

“Of course.” Micah released her hand and jammed his fork into his dessert. “It’s rude is all I’m saying.”

“Micah!” Lord Bayar glared at his son. “Apologize to the princess heir.”

“Sorry,” Micah said, staring straight ahead, a muscle in his jaw working. “Please forgive me, Your Highness.”

Raisa felt hemmed in by wizards, oppressed by the tension between Micah and his father. It was quite wearing.

When dinner ended, the band reassembled. There would be dancing into the small hours, relentless drinking and flirting, underscored by a series of lame entertainments. In the card room awaited the dance of the would-be suitors. It was time to escape.

She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. “I’m off to bed,” she said. “I’ve a nasty headache.” She pushed back her chair. When Micah and Lord Bayar made as if to rise, she said, “Please, sit. I’d like to slip out quietly.”