“The queen is dead,” Dancer said. “Maybe murdered. She fell from the Queen’s Tower a week ago.”

Han blinked at him. Thought for a moment. “M-Marianna? That’s her name, right?” He looked up at Dancer for confirmation.

Dancer nodded.

“So. Guess I’m a little late.” Maybe he was out of a job. Maybe he could go back to Oden’s Ford and continue his schooling. The thought cheered him.

But then he remembered the princess heir. “So, there’s a new queen, right?” he said, frowning.

“Well, that’s the problem,” Dancer said. “The new queen hasn’t been crowned yet. It’s likely to come to a fight between the two princesses, Raisa and Mellony.”

That was the name. Raisa. She was the one that had given money to Jemson’s Temple School. He didn’t know anything about the other one.

And then another memory trickled back. Captain Byrne, shot full of arrows.

“Captain Byrne is dead too,” Han said. Could Byrne’s death and the queen’s be connected? “Did you know? He died in Marisa Pines Pass.”

Dancer nodded. “I know. They brought Byrne’s body back, and the Demonai hosted an ábeornan ceremony last night, a funeral pyre. They honored him as a fallen warrior. Very unusual to honor a flatlander like that.”

More memories. Rebecca Morley racing for her life. The ambush in the canyon. The poison daub.

Han gripped Dancer’s sleeve and spit it out before it faded again. “Byrne and Rebecca were traveling together, in a party of bluejackets, when they were attacked. As far as I know, she’s the only one that survived.”

A memory came back to him—a bone-deep connection, a shared memory, a linkage that bolted them, soul to soul, while he struggled to keep her alive. And wolves—gray wolves like wraiths, passing in and out of the trees.

But had she survived? She’d been near death when they arrived. But he thought he remembered something about Rebecca and porridge.

“Rebecca! Where is she?” Han asked.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Rebecca Morley,” Dancer said, glancing toward the door like he was afraid they would be interrupted. “There’s something you should know.”

Fear prickled at the back of Han’s neck. He scanned Dancer’s face, looking for clues and fearing the worst. “She’s not dead. I could have sworn she came in to see me. She seemed all right then. She even tried to feed me something.”

Was it possible all of his efforts went for nothing?

Dancer was shaking his head. “No, she’s well, getting better every day. She had a nasty wound in her back, but you took the brunt of the poison, so she’s recovering faster. She’s coming in to talk to you, in fact. I just wanted to warn you that—”