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…”

“It is valuable. I understand that.” Usually he could charm and cajole her out of any foul mood, but today she was all clouds and rain—tense, snappish, and downhearted.

Belatedly remembering the flowers, he produced them from under his coat and extended them toward her. Irises and Blood of Hanalea, tied with a ribbon.

“Here. You said you liked flowers.”

She stared at the flowers as if astonished, then looked up into his face as if he’d been swapped out for somebody else. “Another present?”

Well, admittedly, he wasn’t the present-giving, flower-buying kind. He’d never had need of that. Nor the money. “Making up for lost time,” he said. “And, to be honest, that last present was for me as much as you.”

She took the flowers grudgingly and sniffed them. “Thank you.”

“Is something wrong?” he asked, taking advantage of the lull in hostilities to shoulder open the door.

She allowed herself to be ushered back inside. “What’s wrong is that you’re late,” she said.

“I’ll buy you dinner after we’re done,” he suggested. “Anywhere you want.”

She dumped her carry bag on a chair, then sat down at their usual worktable. “We’ll see. First, I want to see evidence that you’ve read chapter twelve.”

Fortunately, he had read chapter twelve, which dealt with Fellsian court protocol, and was about as interesting as reading crop reports. But somehow, when Rebecca talked about it, it came alive. He was amazed at how much she knew about the history and inner workings of the court in Fellsmarch. She quizzed him on the role of the Council of Nobles, the Wizard Council, and the Office of the Royal Steward.

Some parts she had to fill in—parts that weren’t in Han’s books. Faulk tended to focus too much on the royal family.

“What’s the difference between the Wizard Assembly and the Wizard Council?” Han asked. “For instance, how do they choose the council members?”