Magret shrugged, frowning. “I’ll find out. There was no mention of her.”

Raisa sent word to the dining steward to rearrange the seating protocol. Magret helped her into the gown she’d chosen for dinner and the ball after. She brushed out Raisa’s hair and kept Cat on the run fetching and carrying jewelry and brushes and paint and powder. In a spare moment, Cat slid into the red satin dress she’d been saving for the dance. It was sliced high on both sides to afford freedom of movement. Raisa knew her maidservant/bodyguard would have blades hidden beneath the satin, though Raisa couldn’t fathom where.

Raisa decided she’d like more eyes and ears when the king came to call. “Fetch Lord Alister from next door, if he’s there,” she said to Cat.

“Lord Alister?” Cat grinned and curtsied. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and flounced out.

Magret sniffed. “Lord Alister? You can dress him up in silks and satins, but you’ll never—”

“Hush, Magret,” Raisa said. She poked her head out the door, bringing Pearlie Greenholt to full attention. “Can you send word to Captain Byrne that I’m receiving the king of Arden in my sitting room and I would like him to be present?”

And then she thought, Is it even proper to receive a king in your sitting room? Likely not, but state visits had been few and far between when Marianna was queen, so Raisa didn’t have much to go by. Plus, it was his own fault for showing up unexpectedly.

Cat returned in a few moments with Han in tow. Raisa suspected he had been trying to catch some sleep also, since he was a bit rumple-haired and yawning and he’d missed fastening one of the buttons on his jacket. Amon came soon after and stood against the wall, his uniform perfect as always. He’d been at attention all day, it seemed.

Raisa settled herself into a chair, spreading her full skirts around her. The chair was on a small riser, which gave her a little height over the rest of the room. They waited. Finally, a commotion in the hallway said the king of Arden and his entourage had arrived.

Raisa’s uncle, Lord Hakkam, entered, bowing and wringing his hands. He seemed unaccountably nervous. “Your Highness,” he said, his broad forehead gleaming with sweat, “the king of Arden asks permission to bring his guard in with him.”

“Tell the king of Arden no, he cannot bring his guard in with him,” Raisa said acidly. “The Fells may seem an uncivilized and dangerous place, but surely no more dangerous than Arden has been.”