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“But, Highmage, I have fulfilled my part,” Mira insisted.

Obryn’s black, beady eyes fixed on her. “If I remember correctly, I asked you to assist Mr. Dawson in his task. Until that is fulfilled, you are not released from the agreement.”

Simultaneously, Mira and Dawson started to protest with equal horror.

“With all due respect—” Dawson said.

Mira gasped. “I really don’t see how—”

But Obryn simply lifted a hand, which quieted them both. “We will reconvene when I have analyzed the poison,” he said in a tone that left no room for negotiations.

And then he flipped his coin and dissolved and Mira and Dawson were alone again.

“That’s just excellent,” he hissed at her, like this was her doing.

Someone ought to slap this man, and she sincerely wished it to be her. “I didn’t ask for this either.”

“I’m sure you can let yourself out.” When he walked by her, the cold feel of Dark Magic stung her skin. He was bathed in it.

Mid-stride he flipped his coin, and the second he disappeared, the lights in the house turned off. She was alone in the dark, left with only the taste of his Dark Magic on her tongue.

The wind outside howled. Trees rustled in the distance. Mira’s chest felt tight with panic. She knew what she had to do next. The locator potion worked; now she had to try it on herself.

What if it doesn’t work? her thoughts whispered in the dark. What if there is no Dark Magic residue and it’s all in your head?

Her hand wrapped around her scar, feeling it drum beneath her fingers, even through her jacket. The Dawson estate was slowly suffocating her. Walls were closing in. She couldn’t breathe.

For years she had been waiting for the moment to try her locator potion on her scar, and now she was terrified of what she would discover. All she had to do was walk back down to the lab and she would have her answer. But her feet refused to move.

Coward, the voice in her head hissed at her.

What would she do if it was all in her head? There was a possibility every healer she had spoken to was right. What then? There would be no recourse. No next step.

The air around her grew heavy. Leave, the Dawson estate demanded.

She wanted to, but she had a choice to make. Either go to the lab and face the outcome of the locator potion, or go back to Ivercrest.

What if it was going to stay like this forever? What if there was no way to remove her scar? The lab with all the answers was mere feet away from her.

Mira wanted to scream. Make herself move. But the thought of standing all alone in Dawson’s lab and learning there was no way to heal her scar terrified her.

Leave! This time the walls shook. Before she could move, she was free-falling until her head hit the ground hard.

It took her a moment to get her bearings. She blinked her eyes open and realized she was back in the lab. Apparently, the house couldn’t kick her out entirely since Dawson had changed the shields, allowing her to coin travel to his lab.

Rubbing the back of her head, she stood and her eyes fell on her potion, which looked so innocent in the crystal bowl, waiting for her to test it.

“Do it, you coward,” she said to herself, and this time she moved.

Mira took an empty vial and filled it with the lavender-colored potion. Her hands shook as she brought it to her lips and downed it in full. She grimaced at the taste, which reminded her of stale butter. For a moment, she hesitated. This was it. Once she spoke the diagnostics, she would know if it was all in her head or if there was still residue of Dark Magic in her wound.

Her stomach was in knots at the thought of a clean scan. She had healed numerous victims of Wielder attacks. Injuries from dark spells needed to be properly cleaned until all of the leftover magic was removed. She tried to pretend she was diagnosing a patient in the war and not herself.

With a deep inhale, she finally moved her hand over her arm and cast a diagnostics spell.

Then she saw it—the residue of Dark Magic. But seconds later, her heart sank. She had never seen anything like it because the substance was tied to her magic, flowing next to it like a bloodstream of its own.

Was that why she was in the wrong department? So interwoven with her power, Ivercrest had recognized the Dark Magic as her own.