Still, it wasn’t easy. Raisa’s Mistress of the Queen’s Bedchamber wasn’t used to having her authority questioned when it came to protocol and manners. Though Cat’s year at the Temple School had shaped and rough-polished her, she didn’t take criticism well. She always had to know the why and wherefore along with the who and the what.

Sometimes Raisa returned to her suite to find Magret and Cat icily ignoring each other. Once, they were so caught up in a shouting match that they didn’t even hear her come in.

Magret? Shouting?

Raisa didn’t have time to referee. Her coronation was officially scheduled for her seventeenth birthday. Guests poured into Fellsmarch as the date drew closer. At first it was mostly homegrown nobility and wizards from all parts of the Fells. Every scrap of guest space in the castle and all of the other buildings within the close were filled to capacity. Those of lower rank found themselves stranded outside the walls, pining to be inside.

Some of the choicest apartments inside the close were still empty, reserved for royalty arriving from the down-realms, including the king of Arden. Most would arrive immediately before the coronation, and stay through the ball and the receptions that followed.

Micah Bayar and Reid Nightwalker attended nearly every party, each dancing with Raisa as often as possible and keeping a weather eye on his competition. Han was always there also. She often spotted him standing against the wall, his eyes following Raisa and her suitors around the room.

It couldn’t have been easy to focus, with all the distractions. Han received considerable attention from the ladies of the court, as well as foreign visitors. A ruthless streetlord, a thief, a gifted member of the Wizard Council, and heartbreakingly handsome—what more could a lady want—in a paramour, anyway?

He danced constantly—with Missy Hakkam, with his classmates from Mystwerk, and with Pearlie Greenholt, since Talia was still convalescing. He was always at the center of a fluffy crowd. Raisa couldn’t help noticing whom he danced with, and how often, and how gracefully he circled the floor, his golden hair gleaming in the torchlight.

Especially since he never danced with her.

Missy Hakkam was a glittering planet in orbit around Han, when she wasn’t flirting with this or that minor prince from the down-realms. Raisa’s cousin seized every opportunity to touch Han, to hang on him, and she giggled furiously at everything he said.

But that wasn’t the worst thing. At a party two nights before the coronation, Raisa saw Han dancing with Fiona Bayar. As Raisa circled past with Nightwalker, Fiona had her arms wound around Han’s neck, her head resting on his shoulder, pressed in so tight you couldn’t get a hand between them.

Find a back hallway somewhere! Raisa thought crossly.

On second thought, no, don’t, she amended.