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“There is much I don’t know.”

The gardener nodded, a smile bending the wrinkles of her face like the rays of the sun traveling through a crystal prism. Oneira realized dawn must be coming, the sky lighter. She would be almost out of time to visit Stearanos and leave the book, finish their transaction.

“At least you are learning to ask the right questions,” the gardener replied.

By the time Oneira walked out of the Dream and into the Stormbreaker’s darkened library, the room resounded with a predawn chorus of birdsong. She paused midstep, so startled that she automatically double- and triple-checked that the sleep enchantment she’d cast over all the denizens of the castle remained effectively in place, before realizing the wild symphony sounded so loud because a window had been left open.

Still cautious, she surveyed the area for any tricks, just in case the Stormbreaker had detected her intrusion from the night before. She’d rather been counting on him not noticing, but in taking the book he’d been in the midst of studying, she’d invited discovery.

Sure enough, Stearanos had attempted to protect himself from her sleep spell this time, the reinforced wards shimmering along the walls of the castle. He’d gone about it the wrong way, however, in guarding himself against an external attack, rather than realizing it was his own sleeping self that sabotaged him. A common error. No one could ward against their own dreams. Oneira tsked at him mentally, savoring the delight at having put another over on him. It would be different if he’d figured out who she was, but as things stood, she had him at an enjoyable disadvantage.

Setting down the gift shovel and her roses, their root ballssafely wrapped in their native soil and deftly swathed in the rough sacks the gardener had also given her, their tiny night-dark glossy green leaves wreathed in thorns protruding above, Oneira cautiously investigated the open window. The one left ajar was the one by the sorcerer’s reading chair. Adsila whistled a question, then hopped off Oneira’s shoulder to sit on the sill. Oneira hoped the kestrel wouldn’t fly out, but she was her own bird.

Was the open window some sort of message? If so, Oneira had no idea what it was meant to communicate. Perhaps it indicated that Stearanos knew she’d looked out this window, but if so, the rebuke—if a rebuke was intended—was mild to the point of meaninglessness. She was likely overthinking, reading too much into it. Much more likely, the window had been left open through forgetfulness. It was warded, regardless. She, herself, would never leave any ingress or egress entirely unmonitored, and she didn’t live and die by warding the way the Stormbreaker did. She doubted Stearanos would be any less paranoid than she was, and likely far more.

With interest, she used her sorcerous senses to probe the window frame in its entirety, and in more detail along the edges of the open section. An intricate webbing protruded from the frame, which seemed to be infused with concentrated magic, one that stirred in response to her own. Warily standing back, she studied the clean-painted wood in the faint light, noting a bit of a pattern, brown on dark brown. She didn’t dare touch it or add magical illumination, but the substance looked like dried blood. Canting her head, she narrowed her eyes to focus, making out what looked like an equation. Mathematics had never been her strong suit, but she knew Stearanos used the method extensively, an appropriate one given his affinity for numbers and counting.

Fascinated, she had to restrain herself from poking at the ward just to see what it would do. She revised her initial supposition:the window seemed to have been left open in invitation to her—as a trap. Without knowing who she was, Stearanos wouldn’t be able to guess how she’d invaded his home, only that she had done so.

Despite the ancient gardener recognizing her so easily, oneiromancers were far from common or expected, especially those who could use the Dream to physically travel to other locations. In fact, she knew of no other oneiromancer alive who could do so, likely because the learning curve so easily resulted in amateurs getting lost in the Dream.

That aspect of her powers had always been kept quiet, a secret weapon against the enemies she’d been hired to defeat, so Stearanos would be unlikely to think of this possibility. Also, surely news of her retirement had traveled to the Northern Lands. That, on top of the fact that she’d never disturbed the Stormbreaker when they had been positioned against each other as enemies, made it unlikely that he’d suspect her. No, Stearanos had followed logic to the most likely possibility: that someone had penetrated his wards and somehow climbed the walls of the castle. Wily of him to offer an apparently easy route for ingress, and make it into a trap.

She left the window untouched and investigated what else the sorcerer had concocted to ensnare her. It amused Oneira to think of the angry Stormbreaker waking to discover his castle had been invaded again, his trap intact and unsprung. Having fun now, Oneira easily avoided the strands of alarm spells and immobilization enchantments Stearanos had scattered about the room and went to the book of dragon anatomy she’d left in place of his book on Veredian roses.

Dragon Anatomy: From Tooth to Talonwas precisely where she’d left it, apparently undisturbed. Before touching it, however, she probed for another trap, finding nothing of concern. Shereached for it… and upon touching it, immediately sensed that it wasn’t her copy. A bolt of alarm shot through her, the kind of fear she hadn’t experienced since she’d left the battlefields and their many perils. Adsila whistled a question she couldn’t answer.

Stearanos knew exactly which book she’d taken and that she’d left one behind. Well of course he did, she chided herself. She’d been overconfident, thinking she’d so neatly outwitted the Stormbreaker, and now he’d lured her into coming into contact with who knew what. He’d replaced her copy ofDragon Anatomy: From Tooth to Talonwith another. Likely his, given all of his considerable remanence oozing from it, a challenge as palpable as a glove slapped in her face.

He’d left something else in it, too.

She remained frozen, experienced enough to realize she might’ve triggered some magical trap too sophisticated for her to sense just by touching the book. That’s what she would’ve done, in his position, and Stearanos was powerful enough to have set a trap like that. Since nothing had yet occurred, it could be that any movement on her part—especially letting go of the book—would set it off. Cautiously, she examined the book with her sorcerous senses again, analyzing it every way she knew how.

It seemed completely innocuous, except for the addition of thesomethinginside that was not part of the book. Thesomethingthat could be very bad, indeed.

The room grew lighter, the sky bluing rapidly outside the windows, and her sleepers fluttered against the confines of the enchantment holding them. She could keep them asleep indefinitely, but as their natural waking rhythms struggled against the unnatural sleep, the spell would require more and more magical energy from her. She was already running low from her long Dream search. To free herself from this potential trap—or, worse, battle Stearanos if she lost control and he escaped hersleep enchantment—she’d need all the resources possible. And she could not stand there forever, like an insect caught in honey on her kitchen counter, wings shivering helplessly.

She pulled the book from the shelf, her defenses high, her magic ready.

Nothing happened.

Not yet, anyway. Still not daring to release the book, she kept it in her hands and carefully opened it to the page where the foreign object had been inserted. A folded slip of paper greeted her. Innocuous. No magic to it. A different sort of trap entirely.

Setting the book aside, aware of the growing light and the insistent tug of the habitually early risers, she unfolded the simple slip of paper and read the message it contained.

Dear Thief,

For thief you are, replacing a rare and unusual book with something I already own, and such a banal text, I can only interpret the substitution as a deliberate insult, in addition to the other injuries you’ve inflicted, having the temerity to invade my home. I demand the return of my property, which you cannot possibly have any use for. I also demand a forfeit, in recompense for invading my territory and casting unfriendly spells. Whatever game you have initiated with me, I shall be the victor.

Explain yourself on pain of my vengeance.

His Majesty’s Sorcerer, Eminence Stearanos

Oneira, having at first startled at being called thief before realizing that he’d used it generically, not as the irritating moniker given her by the balladeers, nearly laughed out loud. She caught the sound on a choked breath. The Stormbreaker had left her anote. He hadn’t laid any sort of additional magical trap, he’d simply written a message full of arrogance and bluster. And… hadinvited her to reply, it seemed. Why? She didn’t understand his move in this game, perhaps as he intended.

She shouldn’t reply. Sheshouldleave immediately. Lingering at the scene of the crime, knowing she’d already been found out, was foolish to the point of recklessness. Though, reading between the lines, it was clear that Stearanos didn’t know who she was or the purpose behind her visit. He was fishing for information. She should leave him to stew in his curiosity and paranoia. Knowing his propensities, the mystery would bother him more than anything.

Still, she found she wanted to reply. That same mischievous impulse prodded her, just as it had prompted her to mess with his shelves in the first place. It had been a strange night, one of feeling all sorts of things she hadn’t felt in so long that it seemed like forever. But it was also nice to feel something other than numbness coated over pits of dread, horror, and bitter regret.