This bought us time, at least until your name day. Captain Byrne has been working to grow the guard and to undo the damage Klemath has done to the army, but it is a slow process and difficult to undertake unnoticed. I had hoped to delay your nuptials until that happened, but as your name day approached, Lord Bayar pressed me to keep our bargain.

So I decided to allow the marriage to proceed. I mistakenly believed that you would accept Micah because you were already seeing him on the sly. I was wrong. We are so very different. It is difficult for me to predict what you will do.

Your absence has defanged the opposition for now. The Demonai have no candidate to rally around. Lord Bayar is unwilling to make a move without knowing where you are. As long as you live, I live, because a Marianna is preferable to a Raisa.

Do not write to me again—there is too much risk that our correspondence may be traced. As you will have seen by the contents of this letter, it is dangerous here. I will contact you when it is safe for you to return. In the meantime, trust no one. Know that we are surrounded by enemies.

—Love, Mother

The letter slid from Raisa’s nerveless fingers. She slumped back against the wall, her eyes burning with hot tears.

Couldn’t you have told me, Mother? Couldn’t you have trusted me a little? We could have worked together instead of at cross-purposes.

That was just it. It might have been Lord Bayar’s influence, but Marianna didn’t trust her daughter. She might have even suspected Raisa of plotting with the Demonai to take her throne. Imagine if she knew that Amon Byrne was already bound to her.

Maybe that was the real purpose of the marriage to Micah. It would have put a stop to Demonai schemes. A Queen Marianna was preferable to a Raisa married to Micah.

And the Demonai—had they really planned to set her mother aside and put Raisa on the throne? Did they think she would go along with that? Were her father and grandmother in on it?

A memory trickled back—Reid Nightwalker urging her to come with him to Demonai Camp instead of fleeing the country. No one will touch you at Demonai, he’d said. No one should force you from your birthright.

Was her life just a series of lies? Was this what she had to look forward to—a lifetime of manipulating others to serve her own purposes?

It’s not just the real, but the perception of real that counts, Mother, she thought. If people perceive you as weak, then you are weak, even if it’s a survival strategy.