“As you can see,” the wizard said to his assistants, still trying to block Han’s view, “the arrow did not pierce the skin, so even if it were a poison daub, there is no danger to the queen’s life. The armor apparently stopped the projectile, although the force of the blow has caused considerable bruising.” He looked up at Raisa. “Was the arrow launched from close range?”

She nodded. “I would guess no more than twenty feet.”

“Then you are most fortunate you were wearing this armor, Your Highness,” Vega said, lifting Raisa’s breastplate and weighing it in his hands, peering at the dent made by the arrow. “It’s lightweight, but magicked to turn any but the strongest blows. I suppose it’s of copperhead make.”

“It’s clanwork,” Raisa said. And it’s maybe wizardry too, she thought. I need to thank Fire Dancer for saving my life.

“Observe,” Lord Vega said to his assistants. He laid his hands over the bruises and spoke a charm. Han leaned in close, cocking his head so he could hear, ignoring Vega’s glare.

Within seconds, the ache in Raisa’s chest had eased somewhat and the purple swelling diminished.

“Thank you, Lord Vega,” she said, rolling her shoulders to test her range of motion. “That is amazing. I hope you won’t have too many ill effects.”

“It is my calling, Your Highness,” Vega said modestly. “There is a personal price to be paid, of course, but I would gladly sacrifice my health on your behalf.”

Raisa couldn’t help glancing at Han, who’d nearly sacrificed his life on her behalf. And maybe regretted it now.

Lord Vega and his minions also examined the healing wound in her back from the ambush in Marisa Pines Pass. At this rate, she’d collect as many scars as Han Alister.

“May I ask how this was treated, Your Highness?” Lord Vega asked, running cool fingers over her upper back. This wizard was remarkably good at controlling any leakage of power, compared to Han and Micah, at least.

Or maybe Han’s presence was keeping him on his best behavior.

“I was treated at Marisa Pines Camp,” Raisa said, “by Willo Watersong, a clan healer.”

“It’s mending well,” Vega said grudgingly, poking at it. “Though I don’t recommend that people seek treatment in the camps except in an emergency. It’s difficult to predict the effects of the herbals they use. Not only that, once the copperheads have meddled in an illness or injury, it can make it more difficult for an academy-trained wizard to diagnose and treat the problem.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Raisa said, sliding her arms back into her gown and retying the cord at her neck. Magret draped a thick shawl over her shoulders, as if to provide a little additional coverage.

“Is there anything else? I think I’d like to rest now.” She looked pointedly at the door.