Dancer blinked at Han. Then he focused on Han’s wrists. “Crow wants to know what happened to you,” he said, gently turning Han’s blistered arms.

“Crow?”

Dancer looked almost embarrassed. He tapped his forehead. “He’s here. The way he was with you when you came through the tunnels. He’s been guiding us along the way. He told me how to cast the shade that fooled Bayar. And you, apparently.”

That answered some questions but raised others. “But you mean you…you let him?”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Dancer said, grimacing. “I told Bird to shoot me if I turned into a demon.” He paused, as if listening again, then prompted Han. “Your arms?”

“It was the darbies…the manacles,” Han said, his breath hissing out as metal touched his tender skin.

Dancer reached out and gripped the serpent amulet. Han felt a ripple of consciousness as Crow passed back into the jinxpiece.

Dancer slid his hands under the wristcuffs, supporting them. They glowed for a long moment, then shivered into glittering dust.

Han’s wrists looked awful—like they belonged to someone who’d guested in the queen’s gaol for decades, chained to the wall.

“Maybe Willo can do something about this,” Han said, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“If we can find her,” Dancer said. “I’m not sure exactly where she is right now.”

“What do you mean?” Han looked from Bird to Dancer. “What’s happened?”

“Marisa Pines Camp was destroyed,” Dancer said. “The clans have gone to high ground. And Gerard Montaigne’s army has surrounded the capital.”

C H A P T E R  F O R T Y - F I V E

SECOND-STORY
WORK

After more than a year of scheming and plotting—of dreaming of a blade-to-blade throwdown with Bayar—Han found his enemy’s death curiously unsatisfying. Bayar was dead, but it seemed there were scores of new enemies elbowing forward, eager to take his place. He was no closer to his goal than before. In fact, there was an army between him and Raisa now.

What he wanted more than anything was to storm back to Fellsmarch Castle and free her. But he couldn’t do it by himself. He needed help. And for that he needed to retrieve the movable the Bayars had taken from him.

If the Crimson Crown wasn’t at Aerie House, he’d have to return to the armory and find something else. But the crown was the most recognizable glitterbit in the armory—the key to bludgeoning wizards and clans into working together.

He’d sent Bird and Dancer to lay the groundwork with the clans. He had to do his part.