She fought for her life, screaming and kicking and squirming and flinging out her elbows, employing all the street-fighting skills Amon had taught her. Micah held her in such a way that it was difficult to gain leverage enough to do any real damage. She smashed her heel into his kneecap, and his breath hissed out in pain, but he didn’t loosen his hold. Instead he smacked her knife hand against the wall until she dropped the blade. He kicked it away, and it pinged as it hit the wall. She tried to memorize its location, in case she had the chance to get it back.

Power trickled into her, a current that ran down her arm and into Elena’s talisman ring. A fraction of Micah’s usual output.

“Is that the best you can do?” Raisa said, still struggling to free her arms. “Magically impotent today, are we?”

Unexpectedly, Micah laughed. “I am a bit drained at the moment, I will admit,” he said. “I have missed you,” he murmured, pressing her close, his lips against her hair. “Truly. And to think you were right here, all along. What a wasted opportunity for clandestine trysts away from that wretched nurse of yours.”

“I haven’t missed you,” she retorted. “Go away, and I’ll let you know when I do. If I don’t cut my throat instead.”

“We need to talk,” Micah said. “I could stand here holding you, which I am thoroughly enjoying, but it is difficult to talk to the back of your head. I would prefer to look at your face. If I let go of you, can we have a civil conversation without my risking the fate of the unfortunate on the floor?”

Well. If they were going to talk, Raisa wanted to be able to read Micah’s face, too, and try to discern what lay behind the words.

“All right,” she said. “I promise to hear you out.”

Micah loosened his hold and took a step back. When she turned to face him, he looked her up and down, taking in her soldier’s tunic, her shaggy cap of hair, the Wien House emblem embroidered on the front. “You are transformed, Your Highness,” he said. “Are you really at Wien House?”

“I’m in a special program for royalty in exile,” Raisa said. “For princesses who refuse to marry at swordpoint. We’re learning to fight off unwanted suitors.”

“There were no swords in evidence, as I recall,” Micah said. He paused for a heartbeat. “My father was most displeased with me when I let you slip away on what was to be our wedding night. I wish you could have been there to share it.”

“Your father’s displeasure, or our wedding night?” Raisa said.

Micah laughed again. “Both. It has been a less interesting world without you.”