A memory came to her, that day in the western Spirits when they’d been attacked by Sloat and his renegades. She’d stood hidden in the woods, watching Amon work out with his staff. He’d turned as if he’d sensed her presence, and said, “Rai?”

And earlier today, when she’d been spying in the window, he’d turned and looked at her.

It was suddenly hot in the upstairs room. Raisa slid off her bed and went to throw open the shutters. Then came and sat down on the edge of the hearth.

“Well. Thank you for telling me this. Finally. I still don’t see how it relates to—”

“A match between us is a danger to the line,” Amon said. “That’s how it relates.”

“That—that—that’s not true,” Raisa stammered. “It can’t be.” And then, when he said nothing, added, “What makes you think so?”

“Ever since the ceremony, if we…if we kiss, or if I’m tempted to…” He threw up his hands. “I’m warned away. Prevented.”

“Warned away? You mean…you mean by magic?”

“Yes.”

“What happens?” Raisa asked sarcastically. “Does lightning strike, or—”

“I feel sick and dizzy. Then excruciating pain. I feel faint. And…I have to stop.” He shrugged.

“When has this happened?” Raisa asked.

“Well, that time on the road, when we were sharing a tent, and you…ah…rolled onto me. And then when we kissed, right before Sloat and his bunch showed up.”

Thinking back, she remembered Amon’s response both times. He’d actually looked ill—pale and perspiring, gasping for breath.

“How do you know it’s not your own scruples at work?” Raisa said. “Maybe it’s not the line at risk, but the vaunted Byrne honor. You know that love between us is forbidden, so…”

“You think I’m lying?” Amon drew his dark brows together. “You think this is some kind of scheme to put you off?”

“If you are, there’s an easier way,” Raisa said. “Just tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll let the matter drop.”

“What?”

“What I said. Just say, ‘Rai, I don’t love you and I never will.’ It’s that simple.”

“Raisa, this is getting us nowhere.”

“Say it!”

Amon raked his hand over his head, and his hair flopped back down on his forehead. Pushing up from his seat, he began pacing back and forth.

“Well?”

Amon kept pacing, like a fox in a box trap.

“Will you sit down? You’re making me edgy.”

Amon came back and sat down next to her. Staring down at the floor, he mumbled, “I can’t say it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not true.” He looked up at her, tears pooling in his eyes, his voice ragged and barely audible. “I do love you, Rai. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Are you satisfied? Does that make it better or worse?”