“No,” Han said, too astonished to lie. “I’ve never thought that would make sense.”

“You’re different than when we first met,” Fiona said, bringing her pale brows together. “Your speech, your clothing—it’s like your rough edges have been polished away.” She reached toward Han and brushed her fingertips along his jawline. Her touch stung his cold skin. “Though we come from very different backgrounds, we may be more alike than you think. You don’t play by the rules. Neither do I.”

Han stood his ground, refusing to flinch away. “By that logic, the Raggers and Southies ought to get on because they don’t abide by the queen’s law,” he said.

“Hear me out,” Fiona persisted. “Some in the Wizard Council claim they want to make changes. Maybe they don’t go far enough.”

Han was lost, but he knew better than to let on. “What do you suggest?”

“My father wants to marry Micah into the Gray Wolf line,” Fiona said.

“I’ve heard that,” Han said, shrugging like he didn’t care either way. “So?”

“He wants to establish a new line of wizard kings married to Gray Wolf queens,” Fiona went on.

“The clans will never stand by and watch that happen,” Han said.

“Exactly,” Fiona said, nodding. “If we’re going to do this, why not go all the way? Why should we cling to the Gray Wolf line at all? What does it gain us? The clans will go to war regardless.”

“What’s your plan?” Han said, curious in spite of himself.

“Why not a wizard queen?” Fiona said.

Han finally got it. Lord Bayar’s current scheme left poor Fiona out in the cold. Being a rich blueblood wizard wasn’t enough. Apparently.

“I’m guessing you have somebody in mind.” Han raised his eyebrows.

Fiona gripped Han’s forearms, looking intently into his face. “Why shouldn’t it be me instead of Micah? I’ve always been the better student. I’ve always been more focused. Micah’s always distracted by his latest conquest. I think with my head, not with my—”

“Why are you telling me this?” Han interrupted. “I’d think you’d keep shut about it. We’re not exactly friends.”

“We could be,” Fiona whispered. “We could be very good friends.” She pulled him toward her and kissed him, her lips sizzling against his, her hands tangling themselves in his hair. “We could help each other, you and I,” she murmured, pressing into him.

Han gripped her shoulders and pushed back from her. “You still didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Why me? Why not lovelorn—Why not Wil?”

“I don’t know.” Fiona cleared her throat, her eyes still fixed south of his nose. “There’s just something about you. Something so…irresistibly dangerous…” She tried to move in again, but Han planted both hands on her shoulders, keeping her at arm’s length.