Han smiled. “We’re done,” he said, and walked toward the horses with something of a swagger.

Reid stared after him.

Raisa wondered how much he had overheard.

She wondered if Han had intended that he overhear.

Who was the real player—her or Han Alister? And what was his game?

She was in over her head in so many ways. Vulnerable to him in so many ways.

I’ve got to get better at this, she thought, if I’m going to survive.

C H A P T E R  T W E N T Y - T H R E E

MAKING SHOW

It was midafternoon when they arrived on the north slope of Marianna, just below the joining of her twin peaks. The Demonai had sent several warriors ahead to scout the area and make sure the way was clear of unfriendly eyes.

Night Bird was one of them. She returned to say that the regular army had established a light perimeter to the north of the memorial site.

“They’ve posted soldiers upslope from the memorial site, but not many,” she said. “Most have been sent downslope, since they seem more worried about threats from below. There is a huge crowd already gathered, and more coming all the time. The Queen’s Guard has erected barricades around the memorial site itself, but the entire slope of Marianna is already packed with people.”

“Really?” Elena said, her brow crinkling. “What kind of people? Soldiers, or…”

“Within the perimeter, it’s jinxflingers and the Vale nobility and soldiers,” Night Bird said. “Downslope, they’re regular citizens. Not bluebloods, but tradespeople and laborers, line soldiers and scholars. Probably thieves and pickpockets, too. Thousands of people.”

Raisa glanced at Han, who seemed totally focused on Night Bird. He wore his politely interested street face.

Night Bird continued her report. “I spoke with the corporal in charge of the Guard and told them that Elena Cennestre and a small party of clan royalty and Demonai warriors would be arriving soon from the north. I said that after the ceremony we’d be camping overnight on the north slope, then returning home tomorrow or the next day.”

Strategically, that was a good place to be. The Demonai could place archers on the heights, and that would leave a back door open for a hasty retreat, if need be.

“Who was the corporal?” Raisa asked. “The one in charge?”

“Corporal Fallon,” Bird replied. “Mason Fallon.”

A cold rivulet of apprehension trickled between Raisa’s shoulder blades. Someone else she didn’t know, handpicked by her enemies. She was glad Amon would be there.

“What’s the arrangement for the memorial?” Elena said.