Raisa stared at him for a long moment, then went and sat next to him on the hearth. She put her hand on his knee. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Neither of us can quit being what we are,” Amon said through his fingers. “You’re supposed to pretend that I’m your commander, but as soon as I give you an order, you turn into the princess heir. Meanwhile, the rest of the Wolves are watching. Should I blame them if they begin to think that the orders I give are optional?”

“I’m sorry,” Raisa said again, “but it doesn’t help when you evict my guests at swordpoint.”

Amon dropped his hands into his lap, fingering his wolf ring. He looked over at her, his gray eyes dark with pain. “I have no right to ask this, but—what’s between you and Alister? Is it—is it just a fling or…”

“It’s not to get back at you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Raisa snapped.

Amon’s cheeks flushed red. “I wasn’t suggesting…”

“It was tempting, but no,” Raisa said. She thought for a long moment. “I don’t know what to say. He’s brilliant, and he doesn’t let me get away with anything. I’ve learned so much from him…I think he makes me a better person.”

Amon rolled his eyes. “It sounds like he’s your priest, not your lover.”

“He’s not my lover!” Raisa retorted. “Well, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Or not yet?”

“Amon.”

Amon rubbed his eyes wearily. “By the Lady, Raisa. I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know.” Raisa bit her lip. What could she tell him? I notice everything about him, from his flawed nose to his battle scars to his eyes as blue as an upland lake at midsummer. Sometimes I see the boy he would have been had it not been for his life in Ragmarket. He wears his pain on his face in unguarded moments; at other times, I can see just how dangerous he is. No, she couldn’t say any of that.

“I’m going to the Cadets’ Ball with him,” Raisa said. “Just so you know.”

“Rai,” Amon said, taking her hands in his. “Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with him.”

Raisa nodded, knowing it was already too late.

C H A P T E R  T H I R T Y - O N E

BETRAYAL

Sitting back on his heels on the cobblestones, Han stared down at Cat. A purple bruise bloomed over her right eye where it had struck the wall. Her brow bone puffed out, making her face lopsided. A little different angle, and she might have put her eye out.

He looked up at Dancer. “Did you know she was stalking me?” he demanded.