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“It was an accident,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “He’s not harmed.”

“An accident?” Her voice rises, drawing the attention of two men emerging from the trees. “You spelled my dog!”

One man hesitates before stepping closer, his grip firm on my arm. My heart ticks faster.

“The spell wasn’t meant for the dog,” I say evenly, forcing my mind to race ahead. “It’s a practice spell.”

She narrows her eyes.

“My master ordered me here,” I lie smoothly, “he can confirm. It was an accident. He won’t take kindly to his servant being unjustly accused.”

Her companions exchange a glance. One clears his throat.

“Let’s meet this master of yours,” she demands.

The men loosen their grip, and I lead them toward the library, silent prayers on my lips.

A few scholars are perusing the books, but there’s no sign of Skriniaris Evander, or his cat. I search every room, Mistress and her men growing increasingly impatient behind me. Not outside either. No one here, except—

My breath catches in my throat. There, in a rose-draped pavilion, sits Quin, his impeccable attire at odds with the faint smirk playing at his lips. That same unforgettable arrogance. He’s just as I remember him.

Before the men can close their fists around me again, I stride confidently towards the pavilion. It’s a long shot, but I must try. Hopefully I didn’t offend him too grossly last time.

Hopefully he recalls me at all.

I call for his attention a dozen steps from the shade-dappled pavilion. “Master!”

His eyes snap up from his book, dark and observant. He doesn’t so much as blink in surprise.

“That spell you wanted me to practice backfired,” I say with a pout. “It frightened this mistress and her dog, and now she thinks I spelled them intentionally.” I drop to my knees, almost knocking over the cane resting against the table. I catch and resettle it, and lift my eyes to his; I lower them in subservience as Mistress and company crowd in behind me.

I hold my breath.

Quin is quiet for a long-drawn moment, and then he laughs. His steady palm comes down atop my head. Fingers slide down my face and pinch my chin, steering my eyes to his proud ones.

He looks over my head at my accusers. “Give me your side of the story.”

She does so, elaborating extensively.

Quin raises a brow. “Almost killed you and your dog? How positively villainous.”

“He ought to be punished. Prevented from ever using magic again.”

That might be... worse than execution.

I grimace, my eyes fixing imploringly on Quin. His narrow on Mistress while he strokes my cheek absently. “He wouldn’t harm even the most rabid dog.”

Mistress sucks in a peeved breath. “There’s a half-fallen tree to prove his crime. Not just any tree either, the celebrated plum tree the queen consort moved from the royal gardens to celebrate the birth of her son!”

I wince. There is such a tree? I’ve inadvertently maimed Veronica’s gift to the public?Queen Veronica,now. She’s no longer the young girl, devoted to all things plum, that I once played with.

I let out a long breath. Perhaps this is fate and the news will reach her. Perhaps she’ll shake her head and remember fondly the fixes I get myself into. Perhaps the universe is allowing us to communicate again.

“Look! See, he’s smiling. Such evil needs to be weeded out.”

I drop my smile. “What tragedy has befallen you to be this vindictive?”

“You—”