This goes beyond politics. Micah wants to marry me. Not Mellony.

That was amazing. Mellony was the beauty of the family—blond, tall, and willowy, she mirrored their mother. Raisa’s younger sister was a child now, but she wouldn’t always be. In the meantime, Micah would no doubt continue his back corridor prowling.

If Micah married Mellony, he couldn’t leave Raisa alive. Even if he had no stomach for her murder, there would be no way he’d want to leave a living, breathing competitor for the Gray Wolf throne—someone an opposition could rally around.

One thing Raisa knew—she was no Queen Regina, ready to throw herself over a cliff to avoid marrying a wizard. She’d return to the Fells and marry a butcher or a ragpicker or a cleaner of privies if that’s what it took to stay alive and hang on to the Gray Wolf throne.

If she could stay alive, she’d find a way to win.

“Death or marriage,” Raisa said, rolling her eyes. “You Bayars really know how to charm a girl.”

Micah shrugged. “Not the proposal I would have preferred, but it’s not up to me.”

“Do you think your father will accept this?” Raisa asked. “Or will he simply wait for a new opportunity to murder me?”

Micah’s face went hard, his lips whitening. “My father knows as well as I do that a marriage between us is the politically savvy thing to do. He will accept it.”

Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Raisa thought.

“All right,” she said. “You win. I will marry you if it assures that the succession remains unchanged.”

Micah stood looking at her for a long moment, as if to uncover the girl behind the mask. “Perhaps,” Micah said finally, with a crooked smile, “we should seal our bargain with a kiss.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her in, sliding his arms around her and bending his neck to press his lips to hers.

This is a test, Raisa thought, and she did her best to pass it. Micah put a lot into the kiss as well. It left her flushed and breathless and Micah looking reassured.

“We will leave in a few hours, then,” Micah said. “I need to pack my belongings and notify the stableman. Do you still ride that piebald mare?”

Raisa nodded, hope kindling. Was it possible that Micah was so confident, he would allow her to go collect her things?

“I’ll fetch your horse,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts. “The clothes on your back will have to do. You can borrow anything else you need from Fiona. We’ll travel light and fast.”

As if Fiona’s clothes would fit me.