Raisa stood, looking after him, wondering if she’d made the right move. Would she be able to convince Lord Bayar that she’d accepted Micah as a suitor, hide that from the clans, and still keep him at a distance?

Would she be strong enough to keep him at a distance?

Back in the palace, Raisa found Han Alister waiting at the door to her room, chatting with the bluejackets stationed there. Cat Tyburn was with him, but Raisa wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t thrown back her head and laughed her throaty laugh just as Raisa arrived.

Cat was wearing a dress—had Raisa ever seen her in a dress?—flouncy and in a deep apricot that set off her dark skin. Bangles graced both wrists, and her hair was raked back into a twist. Her lips were rouged dark as black raspberries.

Raisa and her entourage skidded to a halt in front of the door.

Han bowed, and Cat managed a curtsy. “Your Highness,” Han said. “Lady Tyburn and I hope you can spare a few moments.” He tilted his head toward her door. “In private?”

“L—Lady Tyburn?” Raisa squinted suspiciously at the two of them. “Well—a few moments, I suppose,” she said. “I had some reading to do before supper.”

They followed her into her privy chamber and waited until Mick closed the door behind them.

Magret emerged from Raisa’s bedchamber. “Your Highness, I expected you back sooner. I wondered if you wanted to bathe before…” Her voice trailed off as she set eyes on Han and Cat. Her lips tightened into a hard line.

“I’ll bathe after dinner, thank you,” Raisa said, poking through the envelopes on the tray inside the door. “You can be at leisure until then.”

“I don’t mind staying, my lady,” Magret said, raising her eyebrows extravagantly. “You might need something, or perhaps your—guests—might need some refreshment.”

“They won’t be staying that long,” Raisa said. “They won’t need entertaining.”

Magret folded her arms. “Maybe it’s not my place, but it just isn’t safe to be in here alone with—”

“You are dismissed, Magret,” Raisa said firmly. “I will see you after my late meeting.”

Magret stalked out, muttering something that sounded like, “Jinxflingers and thieves. A queendom at her feet, and she consorts with jinxflingers and thieves.”

At least she was too well bred to slam the door behind her.

Well, Raisa thought, Micah Bayar was right about one thing—Han Alister has no support from anyone.

“Hah!” Cat said, looking after Magret. “Most people don’t hate me until they get to know me.”

“That’s Velvet’s aunt, Maiden Magret Gray,” Han said. “She blames me for what happened to him.”

“That old fustiluggs is aunt to Velvet?” Cat rolled her eyes.

Raisa dropped into a chair, suddenly exhausted and feeling besieged. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”