Quit running on, Alister, Han thought. It wasn’t like they’d walked out together. Much. Some shared kisses, some embraces, that was it. She’d never made him any promises. Except the implied promise—to be the person she claimed to be. To trust him enough to tell him the truth.

“She lied to me,” Han said finally. “Everything between us was a lie.”

“Good you never lied to her,” Dancer said. “You told her exactly what you were doing there, and who was paying for your schooling, and what was expected of you after.” Dancer raised an eyebrow.

“At least I never pretended to be anything other than what I am,” Han said. “Girlies know what they’re getting with me, so they can take or leave.”

“Is that what you think?” Cat said, fists on hips, eyes narrowed. “Do you think it’s that easy? It don’t matter what a sweetheart says to you, it’s what you believe.” She paused, and added softly, “It’s what you hope for.”

That was exactly it—hope. Rebecca Morley had been the first good thing, the first true thing in his life since Mari had died. She represented possibilities; something he could aspire to. Something he might dream on—a future. Even though no promises had been made between them.

Unbidden and unwanted, a memory surfaced from that day in Oden’s Ford when Han and the girl he knew as Rebecca had decided to walk out together. What she said that day came back to him, a warning that he only now understood.

I will hurt you too, even if I don’t mean to. I’m not the girl you think I am. And you will remember this conversation and wish that you’d listened to me. How can you want this if you know from the beginning that it will end badly?

He’d been furious when he thought the Bayars had stolen his future from him. And then it turned out that his hopes were built on scummer and sand.

Now he knew that he had no future with Rebecca Morley. Rebecca Morley didn’t exist.

He felt like a fool, like the victim of a cruel hoax. And he hated feeling like a fool.

She’s tough for a blueblood, he’d thought, a lifetime ago. Maybe tough enough to be with me. He hadn’t considered that he might not be tough enough to be with her.

“I like her,” Dancer volunteered, as if he’d been following Han’s thoughts. When Han glared at him, he shrugged. “I can’t help it. I admit, I don’t know her as well as you do. But we could do worse in a queen, and I think that’s what we have to focus on. She has backbone—more than Marianna, I think.”