Raisa shook her head. “I’m not going to discuss this any further. I’ve said too much already. Now, if there’s nothing else…?” She made as if to rise.

Micah held up his hand to stay her. “I’ve already admitted that I wish you had named Fiona to the council instead,” he said. “But that is not what this is all about. That is not why we are holding this conversation. I’m just trying to give you some helpful advice. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want that on my conscience.” His face was parchment pale, his black eyes bright and hard as obsidian.

Raisa leaned forward. “Micah, if you know of some threat to the Gray Wolf line, it is your duty to tell me. Or prevent it. Or bring it to the Queen’s Guard.”

Micah shook his head, released a sigh, and stood, lips tight, his face hard and bleak. “You really don’t understand, do you?” he said in a low, bitter voice. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do—keep you alive. I’ve risked everything for you—my family and my future. All you need to do is show a bit of…flexibility. But, no. You’ll get yourself killed, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

Raisa shivered, her jacket no longer sufficient to keep her warm. There had been—what—four or five attempts on her life since Lord Bayar’s assassins came to Oden’s Ford? How long before somebody succeeded?

Beyond Micah, in the shadowy garden, gray shapes milled and circled, their eyes catching the torchlight, reflecting it back like temple candles.

A turning point. A critical choice. But what is the right one?

Micah might be here on his father’s orders. He might have come to persuade her to reverse her decision and name Fiona to the council. He might be trying to frighten her into doing the bidding of the Wizard Council. He might hope to fool her into receiving him as a suitor.

All of those things might be true, but Micah had saved her life more than once. For whatever reason, he seemed to have an interest in keeping her alive.

She’d been impatient, and lost her temper with the Queen’s Council. It might feel good to antagonize Lord Bayar, but she could pay a high price. She needed to better cement her position before she made any more enemies.

She considered the cost of playing the game. She wouldn’t swap Fiona for Han Alister on the Wizard Council. She didn’t want three Bayars on the council, and she’d given her word to Han.

“Thank you for your time, Your Highness,” Micah said, interrupting her mental debate. “Good evening.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Raisa said, pushing to her feet.

He half turned and stood waiting.

There was one thing she could do—a calculated decision in a situation that demanded a cold heart and a clear head. Something that might stay any action against her long enough for her to build her own defenses.