“You?” Micah looked him up and down, then turned to Raisa. “Alister’s on your dance card?”

Raisa looked. “It seems he is,” she said, surprised to see his name there. He’d never danced with her before, not at any of the pre-coronation parties.

“Why you?” Micah said, his brow furrowed.

“Why not?” Han said. He stood, chin cocked up, his stance and expression holding a promise of violence. A streetlord challenge.

“What is that on your stoles?” Micah said, giving back disdain. “A crow? I would have thought a rat would be more appropriate.”

“It’s a raven,” Han said. “Known for being smarter than you think.” Taking Raisa’s hand, he led her into the dance while Micah stared after them. After the events of the night before, Raisa didn’t know what to expect. But he kept her at a proper arm’s length, as if this dance were something he just had to get through—maybe to make a point with Micah.

“Try to look like you don’t want to be with me,” Han said, his eyes flicking over the other dancers.

“How do you know I do want to be with you?” Raisa said tartly. Han looked startled at first, and then his mouth twitched, fighting off a smile.

Raisa didn’t care. She was tired of being yanked this way and that by Han Alister: hot kisses and intoxicating embraces followed by a stiff arm.

It was the first time they’d danced together since their lessons in the upstairs room at the Turtle and Fish in Oden’s Ford. She was acutely aware of the distance between them, the placement of his hands on her shoulders and hips.

“You’re really not bad, Alister,” Raisa said. Memories of Oden’s Ford sluiced over her—of uncomplicated kisses and a friendship with fewer barriers between them.

Han was bent on business, not memories and small talk. “Besides his guard, Montaigne has a couple dozen servants with him who look a lot like soldiers or rushers,” he murmured. “Cat put a tail on them. If he has other people here, we want to know about it.”

“Where did Cat find a crew on such short notice?” Raisa said.

“She’s been recruiting in Ragmarket and Southbridge.” He leaned in. “She says to tell you she’ll kill Montaigne for you if you want. No one will ever tie it to you.”

“What?” Raisa grabbed Han’s lapels and pulled him closer, glaring at him. “Tell her to forget it. I don’t send assassins after people, especially my guests, no matter how despicable.”

“I told her you’d say that,” Han said, smiling and nodding to Missy Hakkam, who looked on, scowling, as they circled by. He turned back to Raisa, his smile fading. “I think you should consider it, at least.”