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“I had that handled,” Mina insisted. “But also, thank you, I guess. How did you know it was the, er,chicken pox? …and not something more serious?”

“Humans aren’t usually covered head-to-toe in little red dots.” Aiden meant it as a joke, but Mina pulled a writing pad from her pocket and jotted down a note. “I take it you’ve never worked in public medicine?”

She closed her writing pad with prim precision. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly. Thankfully, she laughed.

“I’m the private physician for House Corvell’s visiting dignitary. Before today, my primary duty was making the elixir she needs tosoothe her nerves.”

“Well, that’s a full-time job.”

That got him another laugh. “Yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of dark behind an arched Fey ear. “Between you and me, it’s mostly whiskey.”

Aiden chuckled. “Well, I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

Mina’s face lit up—only for her expression to fall when a mender immediately called his name. He had no idea how he’d ended up the de facto leader of this operation, but here they were.

“Rain check?” he asked.

A little bit of that light returned to her eyes. “Thank you, yes. I’d like that.”

“And until you find your feet, why don’t we have you shadow one of the menders? They deal with the bulk of human injuries and illnesses, so there’s a lot to be learned.”

As luck would have it, one chose that very moment to slip past him, clearly hoping he wouldn’t notice she wastwo hourslate for her shift. He caught her eye over Mina’s shoulder.

She froze. Read the look. Then began to shake her head vigorously.

He snapped his fingers.Now.

She sighed, hung her head, and trudged over.

“Hi,” the mender said. A Lowborn woman and an Earth mage, she had a little magic, though only enough to heal colds more quickly and stave off infection in small flesh wounds. The rest of her training was non-magical, acquired in the same way that mortals learned medicine. “I’m Soraya.”

“Hi. Hello.” Mina stared at Soraya’s hand for a moment. “Oh,” she said, realizing that she should shake it.

“Well, come on then,” Soraya said brusquely, no doubt in a hurry to get to work now that she was already two hours behind.

“Right, uh, I had some questions,” Mina said, trailing behind her with her notebook. “First, how much blood loss isactually fatal? And why do their hearts only have four chambers? That seems terribly inefficient. Also, exactly how big a threat do chickens pose to the human constitution?”

As Aiden watched them go, he realized he was smiling for the second time that day.

“Why do you look so happy?”

And just like that, his smile was gone. He turned to find his sister behind him, soaked through and scowling.

If it wasn’t a sight that greeted him every morning around this time, he probably would’ve dropped what he was holding. If you knew Aimee—and unfortunately, he did—you’d know this wasn’t just unusual. It was apocalyptic. Nothing but the end of the world would explain her looking like this in public.

Her dark hair was plastered to her head. She wore no cosmetics, no glamours. Her clothes were ill-fitting—trousers too short, jacket riding up at her waist.

On the one hand, it was nice to see her relaxing her standards. On the other, he couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t so much a sign of growth as a warning flare.

“Come on.” He motioned her into a nearby tent.

Inside, the space was a work in progress. A stove balanced on a crate, a kettle perched precariously on its edge, and a set of mismatched mugs and tin plates were arranged on a folding shelf that looked seconds away from collapse.

Herbs hung from the tent poles. Aiden plucked off two bundles and set about making tea.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Aimee said, dropping into a chair.