Raisa debated. Why was Han so keen on placing his former girlfriend in her rooms? There were so many possibilities. Was it really to prevent attacks by assassins? Or would Cat serve as a barrier to keep the two of them—Han and Raisa—apart?

Would it allow him to keep better track of Raisa’s movements while permitting him more freedom to come and go as he pleased?

She looked at Han, who stood, head cocked for her answer, absently rubbing his right wrist where the cuff used to be. His face gave her no clues.

Did she really want Cat Tyburn looking over her shoulder during her rare moments of solitude? Maybe. If it helped her stay alive.

“All right,” Raisa said. “We’ll give it a try.”

C H A P T E R  T H I R T Y - T W O

FOR THE GOOD
OF THE LINE

After three weeks on the job as Raisa’s chambermaid, Catarina Tyburn still rattled around Raisa’s suite like a pair of chicken-bone dice in a velvet bag. She was never still—always poking her head into the closet to make sure no one was creeping out of the tunnel, staring out the windows to spot assassins hiding in the gardens, reconnoitering with the guards in the hallway to establish that they were still alive and on guard. Her constant motion set Raisa’s teeth on edge, but she knew how hard Cat was trying, and managed to restrain herself.

The maidservant part of the job went mostly neglected unless Raisa asked her to do something specific. Cat simply had no clue what the job entailed. Magret Gray caught things up when Cat was away, and she never missed an opportunity to point out the novice maid’s shortcomings.

For instance, one morning, Cat brought out the dress Raisa meant to wear to a reception for the Guard and left it draped over a chair. When Magret arrived, she arranged it on Raisa’s dress form and circled around it, hands on hips, muttering to herself.

Raisa tried to concentrate on her book, but Magret’s grumbling grew louder and louder as she took a brush to the skirt.

“I’ll try the steamer, but I don’t know if I can get these wrinkles out by tonight. It’s a disgrace, sending the queen of the realm out in something that looks like it was stuffed in a drawer or crumpled up on the floor. In my day, servants took pride in the appearance of their ladies.” And so on.

Raisa put a finger in her book to mark her place. “Magret? Is there something you want to tell me?” she said.

“No, ma’am.” Magret continued to brush at the velvet. “Never you mind. I’ll do my best to sort this out.”

“Do you have concerns about my new chambermaid?” Raisa persisted.