In the old days, he’d have gone to ground, laid low, set himself up in a secure crib with his seconds around him, or disappeared into his beloved mountains. But there was no sanctuary for him—not anymore. He was a moth, helplessly drawn to a flame that would char him to a cinder.

And so he waited—waited to be evicted from his quarters, waited to be tossed into gaol, waited for a showdown that never came.

He’d asked Raisa flat out for direction—did she want him to do whatever it took to get elected High Wizard. She hadn’t really responded, but the answer was clear.

He had to act now, before Gavan Bayar did, but his timing had to be dead on.

Han met Flinn in the common room of the Smiling Dog, a thieves’ academy and inn frequented by arch-rogues, fences, and affidavit men and women. And just now it was frequented by six of Han’s crew, including Flinn.

“She’s in the back room,” Flinn said, leaning in close. “Angry as a singed badger. Took her all over Southbridge and Ragmarket. Shook three footpads in Southbridge Market. We’re clean now.”

Han nodded. “Good. Bring the usual, enough for two, and two clanks of stingo.”

Flinn frowned, as if puzzled. “You mean to get her lushy first?”

Han shook his head. “I’m hungry, all right?” He waved Flinn away.

When Han entered the back room, Fiona spun to face him, her hand on her amulet. Despite the relentless heat, she was clad in black leather, head to toe, as if she’d armored up for the trip.

Han had dressed for the occasion, too, in plain wool breeches and cotton shirt, his clan-made boots his only extravagance. Ragmarket was the kind of place where it was best not to flaunt your wealth.

He hoped it would make it less likely that she would remember what he’d said about his lineage. For the thousandth time, he cursed himself for his run-on mouth. Han Alister, who was supposedly so good at keeping secrets.

“Welcome, Lady Bayar,” he said gravely. “I’m glad you could come on such short notice.” He motioned to a chair, and took the one opposite. “I’ve ordered dinner for us.”

Fiona shook her head, flinging back her pale hair and folding her arms. “I’d have to be starving to eat in this establishment.”

“The food’s actually good here,” Han said. “I’ll bet I can tempt you.” He smiled his best roguish smile. He took pleasure in meeting her on his own turf, for once. At least here Fiona was unlikely to want to take him upstairs.

Fiona studied him as if trying to read the subtext. Then plunked herself down in the vacant chair. “Was it really necessary to drag me through the filthy underbelly of the city?”