“I didn’t lie!” I object as Talia pulls me through the city, an iron grip on my arm.

“Maybe not directly,” Talia says. “But it wasn’t the complete truth. You’re hiding something.”

“If you think that’s true, how come you didn’t say anything in front of Enrold?” I counter.

“Because Enrold is a moron.” Talia wrinkles her nose. “And he doesn’t actually care about justice, only money and optics. If I called you out back at the Guards’ headquarters, he would have arrested you on the spot and considered the case closed. Meanwhile, I have a vested interest in making sure the right person is caught. The killer could have been a political enemy of my sister, or they could have beef with our House, in which case, I might be next.”

“I really don’t think I can help with any of that,” I say.

Talia looks down at me, thoughtful. “Perhaps you’re right. But right now, you’re the only lead I’ve got. Can I trust you not to run if I let go?”

“Yes,” I say before I’ve even decided if I will or not.

She continues to stare at me.

I squirm under her look. I don’t trust this woman yet, but she’s been pretty transparent about her motives, and she’s at least right that I need a place to stay for the evening. “I won’t run,” I answer honestly.

She nods, letting go of me. “Then let’s get home. I’m just in the second canopy.”

We head across another half a dozen bridges and climb another spiral staircase, and this time I’m able to be more appreciative of the sights I’m taking in. We pass through what seems to be some kind of merchant district, packed full of taverns and food stands whose rich smells make my mouth water. There’s a lot of grilled food and gusts of smoke—despite the potential fire hazard, I guess—which cause pangs of hunger in my stomach to remind me exactly how long it’s been since I’d last eaten.

Talia smiles when she hears my stomach growl particularly loud. “Hungry?

“Starving,” I admit.

“Come, let’s stop for something,” she says. “I haven’t eaten either.”

She takes us around to a different tree, where a green and brown harpy is working behind a noodle stall. A dozen seats are crowded around the built-in countertops, but there’s a few on the end still open.

“Hey, Bibs,” Talia says as we sit down. “The regular. Two of them.”

“Be up in a minute,” the harpy says. They look at me, tipping their head sharp and quick to the side, very much like the movements of a bird. Their eyes are bright yellow. “Who’s this? A new student? Don’t worry, kid, she’s this strict with all of them. Don’t believe the rumor about that defenestrated understudy, it’s mostly exaggerated.”

I blink. “Uh…”

“Not a student,” Talia says. “And stop spreading that story. It was one time.”

Bibs chuckles, turning back to their steaming cauldron of broth as they prepare our meal.

“So.” Talia looks at me, resting her head on her knuckles. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “I told you back in the Guards’ building.”

“You told me some things,” Talia allows. “Mostly true. Partly a lie. Here are the things I do believe: Your name is Sal, you started working at the Starlight Inn a week ago, and you have a Poison affinity for magic.”

“That’s not much,” I notice. “And the things you don’t believe?”

“You don’t have amnesia, you know more about the real murderer than you’re telling me, and you’re withholding something about your magic,” Talia rattles off.

I look at her, surprised. “You could tell all that from your truth spell?”

“Partially,” Talia says. “I may not be a politician like my sister, but I do have the same instincts for sniffing out bullshit like she has.” Her smile falters. “Had.”

Bibs sets two bowls of noodles in front of us, the steam rich and salty with a hint of lemon. It looks kind of like ramen; the noodles are accompanied by a dark broth with a variety of vegetables and a couple chicken wings. Bird wings? I eye Bibs suspiciously. I wonder if that would be considered cannibalism here. I decide it would probably be rude to ask.

Talia digs in, not waiting for me to respond to her accusations, so I happily devour the bowl as well. Warmth flows through me as I down the broth. Maybe I’m just hungry, but it might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

“Have you got any sisters?” Talia asks between bites.

This topic feels safer than the last ones, so I shake my head. “Only child.”

“Lucky,” she says. “Siblings are a pain. A good kind of pain, but a pain.” She grimaces. “My parents always pitted us against each other. Made everything a competition. Sometimes I hated her just as much as I loved her. Have you got any parents?”

“Yeah,” I say, and my heart squeezes at their memory. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I miss them. It’s only been a week, and it already feels like a year.

They’re better off without you, I try to tell myself. Now, they can move on.

“Where do they live?” Talia asks.

It’s then I remember I’m supposed to have amnesia. “Um…”

She snorts. “Back to playing dumb, are we?”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” I say.

“Oh yeah?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got spells to help with that. Try me.”

I go silent, sipping at another spoonful of the soup. It’s not that I’m not tempted by having someone to confide in, but spreading the truth is dangerous. Maru showed me that. Besides, Talia might have helped me out twice now, but that was only because she stood to gain something.

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“They’re not around here,” I say, settling for incomplete truths. “They’re far away and I can’t see them again.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Talia asks.

“Can’t.”

“Interesting.”

I shrug, avoiding her gaze, as I pick up the bowl and shovel more of the noodles into my mouth.

“And the magic?” Talia asks. “What were you hiding about that?”

“If you’re trying to bribe me with food, it’s not going to work,” I say. Okay, well, it worked a little. But not anymore!

“If you insist,” Talia says. “I suppose trying to pry up these mysteries was more the scholar in me than anything. If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you.” She pauses to down the rest of her bowl, emptying the last few dregs of the broth. She sets it down heavily. “What I really need you for is information on my sister’s killer. That part is non-negotiable.”

She sets a few coins down on the table and stands up. I hurriedly finish off the rest of my bowl as well. Talia waves goodbye to Bibs, and then we’re back on the road. It isn’t much longer until we reach her house—if you can call it a house.

A staircase ends in a branch-woven gate, decorated with vines and leaves and carvings of flowers. Talia touches a hand to it, then turns to me.

“Set your hand here,” she says, pointing to a spot next to hers.

I hesitate. “Why?”

“I’m giving you gate access,” she says. “It’s harmless, I just need to authorize your magic signature so the alarm system won’t go off.”

Cautiously, I touch my hand to the gate.

[Your magic has been identified,] Echo says, though she doesn’t elaborate on what that means.

The gate swings open, and Talia steps inside. Beyond is a network of trees connected by ornate bridges and pathways, small cabin-sized abodes mushrooming out from the trunks and hanging from thick vines as if someone had taken each room in a house and strung them up like beads on a string. There’s at least a dozen different buildings all woven together in one organic network—a labyrinth of a treehouse.

“This one’s the kitchen,” Talia says, pointing to one of the treehouses we pass. “And that one’s the library. I also have a few extra bedrooms, a living room, my study…” She goes on, pointing out and explaining each building we pass. Does she live here by herself? It’s hard to gauge with everything so spread out, but this place feels massive. In the end, she takes me to one of the bedrooms.

“It locks from the inside,” she says, gesturing for me to take a look around. “I’ll be in the one just over there. Come get me if you need anything.”

“I thought you wanted to talk,” I say, suspicious of all the charity.

“We can do so in the morning,” Talia says. “You’ll have time before you need to get back, yes? We’ve both had a long day. Rest now, and I’ll find you after daybreak.”

Sleeping sounds pretty damn great, given all the walking I’ve done today. It must be after midnight by this point. Even so, I watch Talia head off to another room, enter it, and shut the door behind her. I stand there and wait for another few minutes; the lights in that room flicker out, and then all the lights around her property similarly dim until I’m left in a faint twilight. Cautiously, using my Soft Step, I creep away from my bedroom.

I go investigate the kitchen, first. The room is small, a two-chaired table taking up the center, with various utensils and pans hanging from the walls on hooks—possibly to accommodate the slight sway of the building. The room’s homey, plain. It’s not nearly as well stocked as Gugora and Iski’s storeroom, but I go rooting around and am still able to turn up some dried meat, crusty bread, an apple, and some greens. More digging produces a dusty vegetable sack, which I fill with my spoils. Hopefully that will be enough to satisfy my role requirement tomorrow if push comes to shove.

Do I feel great about stealing? I mean, not really. But as kind as Talia has been so far, I know she has ulterior motives, and besides, my sanity is on the line. That carries a bit more weight to me than the moral offense of stealing a snack from a rich person.

Tying the sack shut and slinging it over my shoulder, I poke around a few of the other buildings as well. I move quickly past the outhouse, poke my head in a few more empty bedrooms to confirm we really are alone, and then check out the library. I nearly pop in and out of that one as quickly as I’d retreated from the lavatory, but a label on one of the shelves catches my eye. Quietly, I close the door behind me and venture inside.

It’s about the same size as the other buildings: a cozy home library, nothing extravagant. Although, perhaps this is extravagant for this world. Two walls are covered with shelves, floor to ceiling, while the other two walls have breaks in the wallpaper of books for the door and some windows. Like the other rooms, I don’t risk turning a light on, but the faint glow of dimmed lights outside is enough for me to maneuver by.

On the left side of the room is a section that says History. On the right is a shelf that says Magic. I make a beeline for the latter.

Some books look new, others look ancient. Some are bound in leather, embossed with gold print, others are simple scrolls. I squint, tipping my head sideways as I read the titles.

“This will take forever. Do you see anything here that might help me with Poison magic?” I whisper to Echo.

[Scanning titles within line of sight.]

I wait, but it only takes Echo a moment.

[On the third shelf from the bottom, seventeen books from the left, there is a book titled Uses for Common Plants of Dunmora South.]

“Uh, not exactly what I had in mind,” I say. Even so, I crouch down and find the book Echo was referencing. It’s fairly small and bound in cracked leather, more like a journal than a textbook. I pull it out and flip through some of the pages.

There’s hand-drawn sketches of various herbs and greens, with notes beneath each one that include everything from its flavor and suggested meal pairings, to common uses, such as to make into salves for low efficacy pain relief.

“I wanted something that would help with my magic,” I grumble to Echo. “Not my chef skills.”

Even so, I keep flipping until I reach a section that appears to be a bunch of recipes. I stop skimming when I catch sight of one of the titles.

Potion for Enhanced Agility.

Oh ho ho ho? What is this now? The writing says it helps increase your reflexes for a short period of time.

[Agility +5,] Echo says as I read. [Duration: 2 hours.]

That sounds like magic to me! I eagerly turn to another page.

Potion of Fire Resistance. Potion for Enhanced Strength. Truth Potion. Potion of Drowsiness. Health Potion.

“Can I do all of these?” I say, excitement trilling through me. Finally, some real spells I can try! Okay, well, not in the traditional sense, but you have to start somewhere.

[The majority of the potions observed by the user require Life arcana, of which Poison affinity is a subcategory.]

Jackpot! The only limiting factor will be all the ingredients, then, and the first half of this book is all about where to find them.

Resisting the urge to sit there and read through the whole book in the room’s faint light, I tuck the booklet into the sack with my confiscated lunch and go back to searching the shelves. There aren’t any more that Echo points out as being relevant to my type of magic—which I’m getting the idea is pretty rare anyway—but they’re all still fascinating, full of books about monsters and ancient ruins and mind magic spells. I wish I could take everything. However, by now my weariness has sunk its claws into my bones and is dragging my eyelids down, so it will have to be a mystery to investigate on another day. Reluctantly, I leave the library and close the door quietly behind me.

The premise thoroughly explored, I head to the front gate. I don’t intend to leave, yet—it is the middle of the night and I’m about ready to pass out from exhaustion—but I can’t be caught with the items I intend to steal, so maybe I can stash them beneath some leaves somewhere near the exit for me to pick up as I leave in the morning.

The pathway to the gate is unfortunately bare and well maintained, no leaves collected on the bridge at all. Probably magically cleaned, because on the other side of the front gate I can make out plenty of sticks and debris, and if I can find a nook in the trunk, I should be able to sufficiently hide my small bag. Placing a hand on the gate, the leaves beneath my hand light up with a faint pulse of green, and the doors swing silently out. I step out of the property.

Something slams into me, pinning my back against the tree and cracking my head on the bark. My vision spins as I struggle against the pressure holding me there. I blindly scrabble at my attacker and find purchase, raking my fingernails down an arm. They hiss in annoyance.

“Stop moving.”

Steel flashes in the dark, and then I feel something cold against my neck. Alarm condenses into fear, and I freeze, afraid to even swallow. The knife prickles at my skin.

As my vision swims back into focus, I realize I know the face that’s hiding beneath the hood just inches away from my own.

Cyros glares at me, his face fierce and determined in the moonlight. “What did you tell her?” he demands.