She chose a gored clan skirt in boiled white wool and a beaded overtunic in lightweight suede and draped them over her sleeping bench. Willo had given her a fine white deerskin jacket with painted and embroidered Gray Wolf symbols on the back and sleeves. Clan mourning dress didn’t mirror the dark weedy look of flatland funeral garb. It celebrated the lives of the dead and their connections with the living.

“Wait outside for me, please,” Raisa said to Nightwalker, who seemed inclined to remain glued to her side until it was time to leave for Marianna Peak. Elena’s orders, maybe, with two wizards in camp. Or was it his own inclination?

Nightwalker took hold of her elbows and drew her in for a lingering kiss. He smelled of leather and fresh air.

Raisa drew back a little reluctantly. He seemed eager to resume where they’d left off. She knew from experience that Reid Nightwalker could be a welcome distraction from all of her troubles, if she would let him. He could help her forget that Han Alister was treating her like poison.

“Nightwalker. Go. I need to dress. We’ll be leaving soon.”

The warrior’s smoky-eyed smile made it plain that he’d gladly stay and supervise. But he ducked through the doorway into the outer room.

Raisa sighed. Whenever she was with Nightwalker, she felt under siege—personally and in all other ways. She needed to find a channel for his relentless intensity. He wore her out.

She missed Amon’s steadiness. He had ridden back to Fellsmarch so he could accompany his father’s ashes from the Cathedral Temple to their burying place. Averill was also back in the city and would travel to the memorial service with Marianna’s bier. Raisa would have the Demonai with her, and Han Alister and Fire Dancer. That was all, and that would have to be enough. She hoped she could keep them from each other’s throats.

Raisa was just pulling on her boots when she heard raised voices outside, what sounded like an argument. She poked her head through the curtains to find Han Alister and Reid Nightwalker circling each other like alpha wolves, hackles raised and nearly snarling.

Han was dressed more finely than she’d ever seen him, all in black with a pearl gray trim at the neck and on the sleeves. His shirt fit close to his body, showing off his distractingly lean, muscular frame. The Lone Hunter amulet glittered against the matte fabric, and the dark color set off his bright hair and blue eyes.

“What is going on?” she demanded, looking from one to the other.

“I told him he couldn’t go in, that you were dressing. He’s objecting,” Nightwalker said, his posture one of barely contained violence.