Why should Han be following other people’s rules when they broke the rules themselves?

Dancer was his best friend and ally—it was time to begin treating him that way.

“All right,” Han said. “Come with me to Aediion and meet him and tell me what you think. If he’s lying, the two of us might outsmart an imposter. Besides, I’ve arranged to—” He stopped and cocked his head. “Someone’s coming.”

Immediately there came a tapping at the door. Han levered to his feet and crossed to the entrance.

It was Willo, with Lucius Frowsley in tow.

It had been nearly a year since Han had seen his former employer, but the thousand-year-old man had retained the veneer of polish he’d sported at their last meeting. His hair and beard were trimmed and in order, his clothing tidier and in better repair than in the past.

Lucius looks better off, and I’m probably worse off than before, Han thought. The recluse had been more than an employer—Han had trusted him. Until he’d found out that Lucius had known the truth of Han’s magical heritage and had never told him. What other secrets was Lucius hiding?

One thing hadn’t changed—the old man carried a bottle of product in one hand and a fistful of cups in the other.

“I sent a runner after Lucius, as you asked, Hunts Alone,” Willo said, looking from Lucius to Han.

“Hello, Lucius,” Han said, touching his arm to orient him.

“Boy!” Lucius closed his eyes and smiled. His face crinkled like well-weathered badlands, as if he were basking in the warmth of Han’s presence.

“Is there anything else you need, Hunts Alone?” Willo asked.

Han shook his head. “Thank you, Willo.”

“Send word to me when he’s ready to go,” she said, turning away and slipping out of the visitors’ lodge.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re still alive.” Lucius raised the bottle and waggled it suggestively. “We have something to celebrate.”

Lucius always had something to celebrate. Han ushered him toward the hearth, his hand on the blind man’s elbow. “Here. Sit by the fire,” he said. “Fire Dancer is here, too. Want tea?”

“Tea?” Making a disapproving face, Lucius settled onto the bench next to the hearth and carefully arranged his cups next to him. “I’d prefer something stronger.”

“Let’s stick with tea for now,” Han said. He refilled his own and Dancer’s cups and made more tea for Lucius. Closing Lucius’s hands around the cup, Han made sure he had a good hold before he returned to his seat.

“So,” Lucius said, setting the tea aside without tasting it, “tell me everything, boy. Tell me about Oden’s Ford. My years at the academy were the best years of my life. Are the houses still fighting on Bridge Street?”