It seemed to Raisa that time slowed to a crawl. Han looked down at the crown coin, then back up at Raisa. He extended his forefinger, tracing her profile, then shook his head.

Raisa cradled Han’s hands in hers, holding her breath. She didn’t know what reaction to expect—anger, revulsion, cold disdain, disappointment, disgust. He’d made it clear enough what he thought of queens and their kind.

He looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers directly, and there was her answer. Betrayal. His eyes were filled with betrayal, anger, and loss. It was all she could do not to look away. She forced herself to hold his gaze. She owed him that.

Han gently pulled his hands free, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “No,” he said, lacing his fingers across his middle. “That’s not true. It can’t be.” His voice tremored slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Raisa said. “I’m sorry I lied to you, and I’m sorry it has to come out now, in this way.”

Han didn’t open his eyes.

“I didn’t want to burden you now, when you’re still recovering,” she said. “It’s not right, and it’s not fair. But I knew if I didn’t tell you, someone else would, and I wanted to do it myself.”

Han said nothing. He kept his eyes closed, the lashes dark against skin as pale and hard as We’enhaven marble, flawed only by the ragged knife scar over his right eye.

“This doesn’t have to—to change things between us,” Raisa said. “I mean, of course it will change some things, but…”

Han opened his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and deadly cold. “What kind of a fool do you take me for?”

There was something frightening in his face. Something that said she was the enemy now, and he would never trust her again.

Raisa shook her head. “I don’t take you for a fool,” she said. “I know that you—”

“Do you think I don’t know how the world works?” he said. “Do you think I don’t know how it is between people like you and people like me? D’you think I’ve never been with a blueblood girlie before?” He snorted. “They used to come down to Ragmarket looking for adventure. Looking for a quick tumble with someone who wouldn’t complicate their lives in the long run.”

“That’s not how I look at you at all,” Raisa said, stung.

“Or maybe I’m part of your, what do you call it, your ministry,” he said bitterly. “A bit of personal hands-on charity. A chance to raise up the unwashed and ignorant.…”

“You came to me, as I recall,” Raisa retorted, unable to help herself. “I wasn’t looking for a job. You asked me to tutor you, and I agreed.”