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“Can’t you just spell search for cleritas?” she asked.

“I could, but searches can be traced by others.”

Those who used magic relied on it for everything, which meant they clearly did not organize their files. Frantically, both of them went down the line of ingredients, folder by folder.

It was difficult to read the names because the folders were crammed together tightly. Her fingers skimmed the sea of folders until she came across tenebris, famously used to contain Dark Magic. Would it work for her potion? Was it still being used? She picked up the folder, opened it, and froze.

The last person to use tenebris was Aidric Dawson. The amounts he had used, presumably on himself, were unheard of.

“There,” he said triumphantly as he picked up a folder. When he turned to face her, his features hardened. He snapped the folder away from her, stuffing it back into the cabinet. “Forgetting why we’re here, Winters?”

He opened the cleritas folder, spoke a quick copying spell, and the contents of the folder appeared on a scroll, which he stuffed in his pocket. She wanted to read the tenebris folder before he put it back, but the atmosphere between them had cooled significantly, and she didn’t dare to ask. With another twist of his hand, the cabinet rattled back, metal dragging along the stone floor, and then shut.

“Did you read any of it?” she asked.

“No time for—”

The door lock clicked, and Dawson grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a shelf just as two men entered.

17

Pressed against the shelf, Mira held her breath. She couldn’t see anything, a glass jar filled with fellowhip leaf blocking her line of sight. Dawson apparently had a better view from his position. A sliver of light illuminated his left eye through the jars.

“Didn’t know what I signed up for when I took this assignment,” one man said to the other.

“Why don’t they have Dawson do this shit? Put that fucking arrogant scum to work,” the other responded.

“Oh, I think they do.” They chuckled.

Next to her, Dawson remained completely composed. A wall of control. Only his eyes moved, dancing to the exit every now and then.

It was too far. They would be noticed, and unfortunately they couldn’t coin travel away.

She took a minuscule step to her left, far enough to look between the containers and catch a glimpse.

The men were not in council uniforms nor in tuxes but wore simple suits that seemed to fit neither very well. Who did they work for?

“Can’t believe they let him walk,” the man with ginger hair said as he opened the cabinet, spoke a spell, and wrote his name in a folder. “He should be rotting in prison.”

He held out his hand, and there was a whoosh as the locking spell opened and a jar floated into his hand. It was too far away for her to tell what it was.

“I don’t know what he did to get out of prison time,” the skinny man next to him said as he took the ingredient from the jar and put it in a pouch.

The jar levitated back onto the shelf, and the two men walked out. When the door locked again, Mira exhaled.

Dawson waited a few moments before he headed for the door. They left the ingredient library in fast strides. Mira had to almost jog to keep up with him.

They turned a corner and heard voices again. Dawson quickly pulled her into a room and closed the door behind them silently.

They waited as the two people’s footsteps passed the door. It wasn’t the men from the ingredient library, though. It sounded like a woman and a man, talking about their favorite restaurants.

Finally Mira whispered: “Did you recognize the men in the ingredient library?”

“I’m afraid not. I think it’s safe to say that they’re doing someone’s dirty work. Not sure if it’s connected to our case or not.”

She nodded and looked around the mundane office. A desk. Paper. Scrolls. Cabinets.

“Is this your office?”