When Han didn’t respond, Crow went on. “They an’t going to ever leave you alone, you know, as long as you hold the amulet. And when the Bayars murder you, it an’t going to be my fault.”

“I’m looking for a teacher, all right?” Han said, irritated by Crow’s needling. “But it an’t—isn’t that easy to find one.” He didn’t want anyone at Mystwerk to know he was taking blueblood lessons. It wasn’t like he had any real friends beyond Dancer and Cat.

To change the subject, Han said, “What do you know about the Armory of the Gifted Kings?”

Crow gazed at Han, expressionless. “Why do you ask?” he said finally.

“We talked about it in class. Do you think it actually existed?”

Crow shrugged, fussing with his double-buttoned cuffs. “I am convinced that it once existed. Whether it still does is open to question.”

“Some people say the Bayars have it,” Han said.

“Some people are fools,” Crow said. “If the Bayars held the armory, there would be no opposing them.”

“I think they’re looking for it,” Han said, watching for Crow’s reaction.

Crow’s gaze flicked to Han’s amulet, then back to his face. “If so, we’d better hope they don’t find it,” he said.

“You’re Abelard,” Han said suddenly, hoping to take Crow by surprise. “Aren’t you?”

That was his latest theory, and it made sense. Abelard was faculty, she was full of learning, and she opposed the Bayars. Plus, she wouldn’t want to be seen paying extra attention to Han Alister. It was suspicious enough that she’d included him in her tutoring sessions. This way she could cut him loose at any time without risking his telling on her.

Crow could be short-tempered, unreasonable, intimidating, pompous, and impatient. Like Abelard.

Or Gryphon, Han thought, once again undecided. Crow was bitter and sarcastic—just like Gryphon.

Crow’s flat expression didn’t change. “I don’t know why it’s so important that you know who I am.” He rolled his eyes. “The charms are real, aren’t they? They work, don’t they?”

“Yes.” Han nodded. “They work.” It was true. Crow’s charms worked very well, in Aediion and out. So well that Han’s masters were amazed by his rapid progress.

“If I guess who you are, will you tell me?” Han said.

Crow smiled—he could be a charmer when he tried. “You are relentless, Alister. I like that about you.”

Abelard, Han thought again. “What kind of name is Crow for a blueblood, anyway?” he said.

“You know how crows are,” Crow said, his smile fading. “They pick over the bones of the dead.” He stood, head down, as if lost in memory, the light through the window extinguishing itself in his hair.