There was no response from Tamron, either from the Tomlins or Gerard Montaigne. She guessed that was a good thing—it would be awkward to have two kings of Arden in attendance. Meanwhile, Lord Hakkam’s negotiations with Gerard’s representatives dragged on.

Raisa submitted to multiple fittings under Magret’s supervision. She needed a dress for the coronation ceremony itself, a gown for the ball, dresses for all the parties that would occur before and after. It wouldn’t do for Raisa to wear the same thing to more than one party.

“Maybe I could just swap with somebody,” Raisa groused. “We shouldn’t be spending this kind of money on clothes I’ll probably wear once.”

Magret rolled her eyes. “As if anyone could fit into your clothes,” she said. “And you would swim in anybody else’s. A coronation happens once in your life, Your Highness. As does a wedding,” she added pointedly.

Raisa made sure that Mellony was well outfitted also. She hoped that the series of social events would lift her younger sister out of her funk. And, indeed, while Raisa tolerated the fittings, they seemed to cheer Mellony considerably. Raisa’s younger sister loved trying on clothes. Like Marianna, she was fond of parties.

There were long sessions in the Cathedral Temple with Speaker Jemson, rehearsing for the coronation. That’s my life from here on in, Raisa thought dispiritedly. One ceremony after another. But Speaker Jemson was kind and funny. He took the coronation seriously, but it helped that he didn’t take himself too seriously.

The Gray Wolves had been assigned to Raisa’s personal guard, and so would play an important role in the coronation ceremony. At rehearsals, they stood stiff and solemn, brows furrowed in concentration. In a way, it made it worse that they were friends. Raisa knew they would never forgive themselves if they made some misstep that marred her big day.

Raisa missed her easy camaraderie with the Wolves. They were constantly around her, but now the barrier of rank stood between them. It was hard to relax with someone who came to attention whenever you entered the room.

Amon had carried the Waterwalker staff Dimitri had given Raisa all the way from Oden’s Ford. They resumed practice with it, three times a week, in the barracks yard. It was a good workout but, more important, it was the only alone time she had with Amon these days. It allowed them private conversations, away from listeners in the palace walls.

Four days after she announced her appointment of Han to the Wizard’s Council, Raisa walked back from the stables at dusk after a long ride across the Vale with Reid Demonai and an entourage of guards. She was flushed and sweaty, muscles loose, the tension dissipated by hours in the saddle. She and Nightwalker had parted with a kiss at the stable door.