Windwitch

use that, sir. People’ll think I stole it.” She waved at her dirty clothes, as if this explained everything.

Merik supposed it did. “Right.” He dug deeper into the purse until he found a wooden marten. Then two more. “Here.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be back soon.” She banged a fist to her heart, then waited for a dismissal. A reaction. Something.

Merik had nothing to give. He was a well run dry. No fury. No magic. Just …

Nothing.

He turned away, and Cam took the hint. Moments later, magic hissed behind Merik as the door opened, closed. He was alone.

He aimed for the dining area. Toward the books atop the table and chairs. Ryber had turned Kullen into a reader, beginning with a book gifted to him early in their courtship. The Airwitch had gone from reading nothing in his life to never stopping, buying every novel or history book he could get his hands on.

And it was the only subject he and Ryber ever discussed. Constantly, they hunched over a shared book or debated the finer points of some philosopher Merik had never heard of.

Merik’s attention snagged on one spine now, a familiar title he’d seen Kullen reading on the Jana only hours before his death.

The True Tale of the Twelve Paladins.

Merik’s breath caught. He yanked it off the table in a rasp of leather, a puff of dust. He peeled