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I shook my head. “My other jobs don’t pay any less than a hundred golds per hour—or minute, depending on what I’m doing.”

Gideon seemed to have lost his ability to speak, which was an improvement. But he regrouped quickly. “Well, if your wallet is suffering so much, why not let me buy you a drink?”

The idea that my wallet could be affected by drinks was laughable. Before I could point it out, I stilled and bristled, my spine straightening.

Oh, sweet darkness, no.

“Knock knock!” a crisp, cheerful voice as sweet as morning dew called.

She was here.

Kleos walked in, smiling as she held a metal tin up, shaking it a little.

Naturally, she made a beeline for her cousin.

“I heard you were coming back today, so I baked your favorite. The tyrant finally gave us a break so I figured I’d bring them up to you.”

She baked. I bet she hummed while she did it, and some bloody birds started singing with her.

I dared a glance and her inner light froze me all over again.

Back to my report. My fascinating report. Yes, five-point hexing?—

“You know you can call Mom Auntie Hilda. Tyrant is a little vague in this place; it could apply to, like, twenty different people I can name off the top of my head. Our boss is making usduplicateour reports.”

I wasn’t missing a word of the exchange, and my fountain pen wasn’t moving to add a single word.

Fuck.

“She made us run around the training arenatwice. No one else deserves the title as much as her. As for the duplication, let me help. Which pen do you use for your reports?”

I could not help myself. I glanced up.

I'd seen her cast minor spells from a distance, like warming her food, cooling her drink, levitating an object slightly out of reach. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but I hoped seeing her magic in action would give me a clue.

Gideon handed her a clear, mass-produced ballpoint pen, a bit chewed on, and she held it for a second, golden mist gathering in her palm.

She didn’t use words. Only kids and third-rate sorcerers needed to. Kleos was neither.

“Go on, try it! Put a blank page under yours.”

Gideon did as he was told, scribbling a few words. “Crikey! I didn’t know that enchantment.”

She shrugged. “I crafted it. The archives are also fond of duplicates, andtriplicates. I wish they would finally work out a way to digitize spells that won’t make computers explode already.”

I glanced down at my own pen—a gold-tipped, monogrammed instrument far more worthy of being imbued with beautiful, useful magic.

“You and me both. Thanks, coz.”

Catching a quick look from Gideon, followed by a smirk, I could practically read his mind.Go on. Ask her, you dolt.

Never mind. If she wrote an enchantment, I’d be able to do it, too. I already saw the logic behind her work; I only had to figure out the right elements to invoke. If I hadn’t been distracted, I would probably have already cracked it.

“You can thank me after one of these. I tweaked them!” She opened the tin and I caught a whiff of butter and softness and happiness and I would literally have killed for a bite.

Of the cake, just to be clear. I did not go around biting random chicks. Unless they begged me to.

“Blimey, Kleos! Almond and vanilla?”