She heard the creak of his cot as he sat up, putting his feet on the floor. He padded over and sat down on the cot next to her. It sagged under his weight. “Are you all right? Do you want me to call Willo?”

Raisa shook her head. “Neither of us is sleeping, and we’re both hurting, and I really, really want to talk to you.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Amon asked. “Willo said you should rest.”

“I think talking would do me more good.” Raisa patted the bed next to her. “Here. Lean against the wall.”

Amon slid toward the head of the cot and arranged himself next to her, trying to get comfortable in the narrow space.

She took his hand, cradling it between her own. “Just stop it,” she said. “Stop blaming yourself.”

For a long moment he said nothing, a dark silhouette in the light from the window. Then, “What makes you think I’m blaming myself?”

He was still a terrible liar.

“Because I know you. If anyone’s to blame for all of this, it’s me.”

He raked his free hand through his hair. “Why would you blame yourself? None of this is your fault.”

“Not my fault? Where do I start?” Raisa bit her lip. “If I hadn’t left the Fells, none of this would have happened. My mother would still be alive, and your father, and all the guards who died defending me.” She shuddered. “If I had stayed home, maybe we could have worked out our differences.”

Amon thought this over. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t come back with an immediate denial. “Well,” he said, “you had no way of knowing how it would come out.”

“You had no way of knowing,” Raisa said. “I’m supposed to have the gift of prophesy. Why couldn’t I have seen how it would end?”

“Prophesy never seems to work that way,” Amon said. “Even when people see the future, they don’t understand it, or they don’t believe it, or they close their eyes to it.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Amon said, “I’ve been wondering this ever since you disappeared from Oden’s Ford. What happened? Was it Micah?”

“Lord Bayar sent four assassins to Oden’s Ford to murder me. Micah offered me an alternative—marry him instead. So I agreed.”

Understanding dawned in Amon’s gray eyes. “So Micah was the one that killed the assassins?”

Raisa nodded.

“Ah,” Amon said. “That’s one mystery solved. We couldn’t figure that out—who would have killed them with wizardry.”