When she was ready, her father, Averill, her sister Mellony, her cousin Missy Hakkam, and her grandmother Elena came to escort her to the Cathedral Temple. Amon was there also, solemn and heartbreakingly handsome in his dress blues, the rest of the Gray Wolves lined up at attention behind him. Raisa swallowed a lump in her throat.

Han Alister wore the black-and-silver coat he’d worn to Marianna’s funeral, the one Willo had made for him, inscribed with subtle gray wolves and ravens, the serpent and staff on the back. He displayed what Raisa had come to think of as his court amulet—carved of translucent stone, in the shape of a hunter. She knew he would be wearing the serpent amulet against his skin.

He met Raisa’s eyes, and energy and tension and secrets crackled between them. His gaze dropped to the pearl-and-moonstone ring she wore next to Hanalea’s wolf. He bowed deeply, his raven stoles nearly touching the floor. When had he come to look so at home at court?

Had she herself changed that much in the past year?

Mellony and Missy lined up behind Raisa, each grabbing a fistful of fabric. They would help carry her train.

“Good thing I don’t have to wear this thing but once,” Raisa grumbled. “There’s no way I could dance in it.”

Magret fussed with the folds of Raisa’s robe, arranging and rearranging. The newly made Mistress of the Queen’s Bedchamber was dressed in a fine gray wool dress, her Maiden pendant glittering at her neck.

“It’s all right,” Raisa said, taking Magret’s hands. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, and will do, for the line.” She went up on her toes and kissed her former nurse on the cheek, wet and salty with tears.

Amon came and stood on Raisa’s right-hand side, Han on the left. It felt good to have them there.

“Let’s go,” she said, lifting her chin.

They walked down the long corridors, the heavy brocade fabric swishing over the marble and stone floors. The formal passageways through the palace were nearly deserted—everyone who was anyone was already at the temple. Servants stood in doorways, however, and lined the broader corridors. Even the cooks and kitchen staff took a few minutes from their preparations for the feasting that evening to watch the princess heir pass by for the last time.

The next time they saw her, she would be queen.

The little procession entered the courtyard, walking along the gallery between the castle proper and the Cathedral Temple. Han slid his hand inside his coat and murmured a charm. Light arced over them, looking like a magical arbor entwined with roses, but Raisa guessed it was a clever means to deflect any assassins’ arrows or magical attacks.

As they came into view, more servants cheered and waved handkerchiefs from balconies. “Happy name day!” they shouted, and “Long live Raisa ana’Marianna!”