His voice seemed to echo through the quiet lecture hall. Heads turned. Micah Bayar left off slouching and sat forward, hands braced against his knees, staring at them.

Gryphon had been speaking, but his voice drained away into a charged silence as Han and Fiona made their way to separate seats. “Newling Alister, Lady Bayar. You are late.”

And some demon spirit made Han say, “Sorry, sir. Lady Bayar needed help with her homework.”

Fiona shot an incredulous look at him from across the room.

Gryphon gazed at him for a long moment, his surreal turquoise eyes standing out against his pale face. “You, Alister, have been late four times in the past two weeks. It seems you would rather sleep in than come to class. Perhaps you think this is a waste of time. Perhaps you believe you’ve gone far beyond our flimsy efforts.”

“No, sir, that’s not true,” Han said. “It’s just I’ve been up late, working and—”

“Then summarize chapter nine for us.” Gryphon thrust his head forward like a predatory bird.

“Chapter nine.” Han wet his lips. He hadn’t opened Kinley, in fact. He’d been up all night with Crow. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I haven’t read it.”

“No?” Gryphon raised an eyebrow. He scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it, and pushed it to the front of the lectern. “You are excused from this class for the balance of the term. Please take this note to Dean Abelard’s office. Fifth floor.”

Dean Abelard’s office was three floors up from the lecture hall. Han dragged his feet all the way like a small child sent for a whipping. He’d seen the dean in their study group, week after week, but he’d avoided any more one-on-ones with her.

Of all his classes, Gryphon’s was the one he wanted to stay in. Charms, spellwork, use of amulets—aside from Abelard’s study group, it seemed in line with his purposes. He was learning from Crow, but he didn’t want to have to rely on him for his magical education. He wanted to go beyond defense and killing charms.

When the proficient ushered him into Abelard’s office, the dean was finishing up a bit of correspondence. “Sit, Alister,” she said, waving him to a chair.

He sat.

Abelard sat back in her chair, resting her hands on the edge of the desk. “Well? What is it this time? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

He handed her the note. “Master Gryphon booted me from class for being late.”

Abelard scanned the note. “I see. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I was late. I overslept.”