In the dream world, it was easy to go all mumble-minded about what was real and what wasn’t.

“Look,” Han said. “You said you could teach me magic.”

“I can,” Crow said. “What I can teach you will make you the most powerful charmcaster in the Seven Realms.” He walked to the arched window and gazed out, then turned and rested the heels of his hands on the sill. “But there’s a price,” he said.

Ha, Han thought. Here’s where the Breaker demands my soul in payment. Well, he’d dealt with connivers before. He knew when to walk away from a bad deal.

“What’s your price?” Han asked, feigning indifference.

“I will not invest my time in someone who will never make full use of the gift of knowledge I offer,” Crow said. “If we are to be allies, I shall expect improvement in every aspect of your life—your speech, your manners, your…attire.” He flicked his hand toward Han, taking in his clothing.

Han stared at him, taken by surprise. “You want me to turn into a bleeding blueblood? That’s your price?”

Crow studied his hands, twisting the elaborate ring on his right forefinger. “Our time in Aediion is limited as is. I don’t want to spend it showing you how to navigate in society. Surely you can find someone else to teach you those skills.”

“Look,” Han said, “I don’t got time to learn the things I need to learn, let alone studying pretty speech and manners.”

Crow stepped close to Han, leaning in so they were nearly nose to nose. “Don’t underestimate the Bayars. You have been lucky so far, but it’s only because they’ve underestimated you. They will destroy you if you don’t learn to meet them at their level. It’s more than spellcasting. It’s more than a powerful amulet. It’s politics, and the law, and winning powerful people to your side. That requires you to be articulate, at least.”

“Why do you care if they destroy me?” Han said. “It’s no skin off you if I lose.”

“Let’s just say it’s a grudge match,” Crow said, turning to look out of the tower windows. “I hate Aerie House,” he said softly. “They destroyed everything I care about.”

We have something in common, then, Han thought. If he’s telling the truth.

Still, the blueblood was right, now he thought on it. Han had to learn to fight on their turf. If he didn’t, he would go down quick. He recalled the humiliating experience of the dean’s dinner. It might be worth his time to avoid a repeat performance.

“All right,” Han said. “I’ll look for a teacher. But if you’re going to help me, it can’t wait until I learn to talk pretty. The Bayars have come after me twice now. Third time’s the charm.”