Han didn’t feel particularly cheerful at that moment. If the pot had been simmering before, he’d brought it to a boil for sure. He looked into the huge fireplace at the end of the meeting hall. A gray wolf with green eyes looked back at him, the guard hair spiking along her shoulders.

What is it? he wanted to say. What are you trying to tell me?

Han had too many vulnerabilities—too many people he cared about, too many ways the Bayars could get at him, with their long reach and many allies. He needed to get back to Fellsmarch.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Han said, banging down the gavel. “Dean Abelard, can you stay a minute?”

Abelard was so delighted by the outcome of the council meeting that she unhorsed three of her guards and donated their mounts to Han and his party without asking questions. She also gave them cloaks in Abelard colors, inscribed with the Abelard book-and-flame.

Han, Willo, and Dancer pulled the cloaks over their clothes and agreed to split up and meet at the stables in ten minutes, when they were sure they were not being followed.

Han left the council chamber first and hurried along the corridor toward the stables at the back of the Council House.

“Alister!”

Swearing under his breath, Han swiveled around. Fiona stepped out from behind some draperies, seized his arm, and pulled him out of sight.

She looked him up and down. “Abelard colors? Demon’s blood, Alister, I want to know what game you’re playing.”

Han jerked free. “I don’t have time for this right now,” he said. “I’ve got to go.” He tried to slide between her and the wall, but she stepped into his path.

“Are you working for Abelard, or are you working with me?” she said. “I saw Micah and my father, and they told me what you did in there. Are you insane?”

“Probably,” Han said. “It runs in the family, apparently. Now, I really—”

“You listen to me.” Fiona took hold of his cloak. “I agreed to help you become High Wizard, and in return, you—”

“But you didn’t help me,” Han said. “You told me yourself you never met with Gryphon. You failed, Fiona, and I don’t reward failure.”

“Why would Adam vote for you?” Fiona demanded. “Why would he, when you murdered his parents?”

“Maybe he doesn’t think I’m guilty,” Han said. “Which I’m not.”

“However it happened, you got what you wanted. So why did you have to bring in the copperheads?” Fiona was practically spitting on him. “That’s my family name and reputation you’re besmirching with this story of Bayars consorting with…with savages. You know that can’t be true. And if it is, the copperhead witch must have been the aggressor.”