“What makes you think I’ve gone beyond you?” Han said, scrunching down in the bed. “If I have, it’s likely because you’ve been focusing on flash metalsmithing.”

“I’m not being modest.” Dancer shrugged. “We have different skills. I’m getting better and better at making tools, but that won’t help in the middle of a firefight.” When Han said nothing, he added, “You saved the Princess Raisa’s life. I couldn’t have done that.”

“It wasn’t because I knew what I was doing,” Han said.

“Even more impressive.”

“And it wasn’t because she’s a princess,” Han went on, slitting his eyes and squinting at Dancer through his lashes.

Dancer brought up both hands. “I know.”

“I hate bluebloods like her,” Han said. “They put on Ragmarket clothes and go slumwalking, but underneath they’re still wearing We’enhaven lace and Tamron silk. For them it’s an experience, like holding séances or smoking razorleaf. And when they get back to the palace, they shed their slum clothes and climb into the bath and wash you right off.”

Han forced an image of Rebecca/Queen Raisa in her bath to the back of his mind. He stowed it away with the image of Raisa in We’enhaven lace and Tamron silk smallclothes.

“I tried to tell you not to get tangled up with her,” Cat said, startling him. Han had forgotten she was there. When Han frowned at her, she added, “You know. Back in Ragmarket.”

“I’m not tangled up with her,” Han said.

“Huh.” Cat drew out a small blade—it looked like a new one—and began flipping and catching it.

Wishing Cat wasn’t there to hear and comment, Han turned back to Dancer. “The thing is, it doesn’t change them. They just keep going on being bluebloods. They think we’re amusing, like monkeys in a traveling show. We’re something to do for a day or two, when things slow down at the palace. Something to talk about at parties.”

Han unstoppered the tea and took a long drink right from the jug. No point in working on his manners now.

Though he hadn’t been doing it for her anyway. He’d been doing it for himself. Hadn’t he?

“Eventually, they leave for good,” he said, setting the jug down. “They don’t care if they leave holes behind.”

“You’re the one who always leaves,” Cat said. “Is that it?”

“It’s not that,” Han said. “She used me.”

“How did she use you?” Dancer said. “By tutoring you? By kissing you? By—”

“Cuffs Alister pining after a princess,” Cat interrupted. “Everybody always said you was ambitious.”

“Cat,” Dancer said, shaking his head.