And now what? The term was nearly over. Should she wait here meekly until her mother called her home? If she returned home, would it knock down the fragile house of cards that was her queendom?

Could she possibly be more alone?

Raisa flopped onto her back, tears leaking from her eyes and running into her hair.

C H A P T E R  T W E N T Y - N I N E

A BABE IN
THE WOODS

Han cut across the greening lawns, heading for Bridge Street. It was Tuesday—the day before his class with Dean Abelard. He’d stayed up half the night for the second night in a row. He and Dancer had spent the afternoon experimenting with a talisman Dancer had crafted from a flying rowan. It was challenging to create a talisman that wouldn’t interfere with Han’s own magic while protecting him from someone else’s.

And now he was late for his meeting with Rebecca.

The flower vendors lined the street leading to the bridge. That was one thing they had more of in Oden’s Ford than at home—flowers. They grew pansies all winter long, the deep red blooms called Blood of Hanalea, white solstice stars, flowering cactus of all kinds from We’enhaven, magnolias with big saucer flowers you could serve dinner on, orchids of all colors and sizes. And now tulips and daffodils and bulb irises.

Rebecca loved flowers. She said she missed her garden at home.

On impulse, Han stopped long enough to buy a fistful from a vendor.

When he entered The Turtle and Fish, the common room was half filled with cadets, but Talia and Pearlie weren’t there. Han nodded to Linc, the bartender, walked straight past the bar, and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Just as he put his hand on the latch of their meeting room, the door flew open and Rebecca stood in front of him, her carry bag slung over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed with anger—obviously on her way out.

“Well!” she said, looking him up and down. “If it isn’t Hanson Alister.” She paused ominously. “The late Hanson Alister.”

There was a raw, ragged edge to her voice, an emotional vibration he’d never heard before. Blueblood or not, she could rough him up better than any girlie he’d ever known.

He groped for the right thing to say. “Rebecca, listen. I know I’m late. I’m sorry. I was…working on a project…and I lost track of time.”

“I warned you,” she snapped. “You think the rules changed because we kissed?”

“I’m meeting with the dean tomorrow,” he said. “I was getting ready for that.” He paused, and when she said nothing, added, “Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you said last time.” She glared up at him. “You’re the one who wanted tutoring. Do you think I have nothing better to do? You can squander your own time, but when it comes to my time…”