“Your Highness, there’s no point. Soon as we send the jinxflingers away, I’ll take you upstairs for a long, hot bath,” Magret promised.

Moments later, Amon returned, with Micah and Dancer. There was a grim, angry set to Micah’s mouth, a stiffness to his posture.

When his eyes lit on Han, he stopped short in the doorway, looking from Raisa in her blanket to Han as if he couldn’t believe the evidence of his own eyes.

“What are you doing here, Alister?” he demanded. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you ride up at the memorial service, dressed like some kind of prince. How did you get involved with the princess heir?” He looked at Raisa. “Do you know who this is? Do you know what he’s done? He’s a murdering, thieving—”

“Sul’Bayar!” Raisa said. “I thought you were here to inquire after my health, not malign and interrogate my bodyguard.”

“Your bodyguard?” Micah looked Han up and down, shaking his head slowly. “Him?”

“Indeed,” Raisa said, losing patience. “Get used to it or get out.” Sweet Lady in chains, she thought, I am so weary of wizards.

Closing his eyes, Micah took a deep breath, then released it, mastering himself in that way he had.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am already used to it.”

He came and knelt in front of Raisa. When he lifted his head, his black eyes raked over her, drinking in every detail. Like he would tally up every cut and bruise and healing wound.

“Raisa,” he said, “are you really all right?” He reached for her hands, and she snatched them back, out of reach. Han shifted his weight behind her, and Raisa knew without looking that he’d gripped his amulet. Amon moved up next to Micah, his sword ready in his hand.

“Just—just keep your distance, Micah,” Raisa said, raising both hands, palms out. “I’m already jumpy. And I have absolutely no reason to trust you.”

Pain flickered across Micah’s face, but he rested his hands on his knees, in plain view of everyone.

“Of course,” he said. “I had to see you, to see for myself that you were all right. You’re not hurt? You’re not wounded at all?”

Raisa shook her head. “No. I was very lucky.”

“Yes. You were.” Micah looked at Han and Amon almost accusingly, then back at Raisa. “I can’t tell you how relieved I was when you appeared at the memorial service.”

“Were you?” Raisa’s voice was cool and indifferent. “Were you really relieved?”

Micah drew his brows together in a frown, tilting his head. “Well, yes, of course. The last time I saw you, we were in the middle of a battle.”