Han nodded, massaging the back of his neck. “It’s my fault. I never should have brought him onto my crew. Based on my past, he really believed that I was the one killing wizards. And after he overheard my conversation with Fiona, I can’t blame him for thinking I was out to murder you. He did the right thing, coming to you about it.”

“So he was working for you?”

“Eyes and ears only. I can’t be everywhere at once.” Han paused. “Where is he now?”

Raisa’s face heated. “We don’t know. We’re looking for him.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“When Flinn and Amon came to see me, Cat was here, and that seemed to rattle him. We tried to reassure him, but he kept saying he was a dead man now that he’d told. The Wolves escorted him to Kendall House for safekeeping, but somehow he slipped away from there.”

Han swore softly. “Let me guess—they think I hushed him too.”

“Some people, yes,” Raisa admitted. “If I won’t file charges, Micah plans to proceed through the Wizard Council. So it looks bad. You have motive, opportunity, and a reputation for violence, and they are putting together a case.”

“I didn’t do it,” Han said, meeting her gaze. “It wasn’t me.”

“Innocence may not be enough to save you,” Raisa said. She took a breath, released it in a slow shudder. It was happening again—she was falling under the spell of Han Alister. Against all odds, she believed him.

She collected herself. “I’ll give you fair warning—if you are after my throne, you will have a fight on your hands.”

“I don’t want your throne,” Han said.

“Then what do you want?” Raisa asked.

“You.”

“Me?” Raisa raked at her hair, pounding back the questions that trickled to the surface like bubbles through syrup. “Then you have an odd way of courting a girl. I mean, there were times, over the past few months, that you could have—we might have—” Raisa swallowed, embarrassed. “You were the one who backed off.”

“I don’t want that,” Han growled, then actually colored. “I mean, I do want that, but not only that.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want it to be about lust. I love you. I want to marry you.”

Raisa stared at him. “Marry me? But that’s—”

“Impossible. That’s what everybody says.” Han laughed bitterly. “I can’t think of a single person who thinks it’s a good idea.”

“But. Why didn’t you…?”

“I should have told you before,” Han said. “I did, sort of—when we danced at your coronation feast. At Marisa Pines.”

Raisa had danced as Hanalea, and Han as the Demon King. His words came back to her. Raisa. I love you. Marry me. Please. I promise I will find a way to make you happy.