The Silver Root had no sign. Customers who needed directions could not afford its stock. Shelves held moon-moss, powdered griffin claw, and warm sun-crystals.
The sun-crystals warmed the glass beside them. Even the smallest packets were sealed with wax and numbered by hand.
In a Council scholar's robes, I checked the seal on a vial of wyvern's fire. The catalyst cost more than the hovel where I had spent the last three months. Valerius's laboratory could afford it.
The oak door slammed open hard enough to rattle the vials.
Kaelen.
Kaelen took the center aisle without asking permission. He was paler than I remembered, and thin black veins showed above his collar. Elara hung on his arm and let him carry most of her weight.
The skin around his eyes had tightened, and each breath pulled
