Han gazed into the fire. “I’m tired of people dying because they were born in Ragmarket or Southbridge. I’m sick of people in power picking on the weak. I’m going to help them.” He brushed at his eyes with the heels of his hands and cleared his throat.

Was he crying? Raisa took a step toward him, hands extended, but he turned his back to her and poked at the fire with a stick.

“You don’t really need tutoring in those things, you know,” Raisa said, touching Han’s shoulder. “The language and manners, I mean. Here at school, you’ll be mixing with all kinds of people. You’re smart. You’ll pick it up naturally in time.”

Han shook his head. “That’s too slow. Anyway, to tell the truth, bluebloods an’t that eager to mix with me outside of class.” He looked back at her and rolled his eyes. “I got to take advantage of being here because I don’t know how long I can stay.”

Why? Is it the money? she almost said. But thankfully didn’t. One thing hadn’t changed. Han Alister still unbalanced her, making her lose her usual nimble footing.

Is it because he’s wicked? she wondered. Like Micah Bayar? Like Liam Tomlin and Reid Nightwalker? Like every other boy she’d ever found appealing?

Because he’s forbidden? Like Micah? Are you like your ancestor Hanalea, whose lust for the wrong man brought down the Seven Realms?

No. She wouldn’t spend her lifetime mimsy-toeing around, for fear she’d repeat the mistakes of a millennium ago. There were plenty of new mistakes to be made.

“All right,” Raisa said. “If you think it would help, I’ll tutor you.”

He swung away from the fire and looked at her. “Really? You’re serious?”

He thought I’d refuse, Raisa thought. She nodded.

Han smiled, then, a bright, charming smile that lit up the room, more dangerous than any blade.

All you ever needed was that smile, she thought. I’d have given in immediately.

Crossing the room to her, he fished eagerly into his breeches pocket, producing a purse. “How much will you—”

Raisa put up a hand. “I won’t charge you for the tutoring,” she said, remembering Dimitri and the concept of gylden. “But you’ll owe me. One day I’ll call in the debt.”

Han stood staring at her for a long moment. “I’d rather just pay you,” he said finally. “I don’t know if I’ll be in a way to repay favors.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Raisa said. “What you will do is pay me a fivepenny every time you say ‘an’t’ and ‘I got to.’ I’ll be rich on that alone before the term is over.”

“Hey, now,” Han said, raising both hands in protest. “I an’t going to—”