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“So what can I help you with?”
“Do you sell serrumptase?”
He chuckled and pulled a vial with a shimmering white liquid from his jacket. “Nobody calls it that. Serrumptase is the technical term for Frost.”
She would never use that name. “What about nightgale shade?”
“I’m not an ingredient library.”
“Did you use it as an active ingredient in any of the potions you’re selling tonight?”
She could easily extract nightgale shade from a potion.
He stared at her quietly, and for a moment she was convinced he was going to just walk away. But the expression of confusion on his face lifted and his grin reappeared. “Yes. I used half a blade of it in the direweed potion.”
Direweed, a narcotic painkiller that had become a popular party drug.
“Great. I’ll take one of those as well.”
He shook his head. “I just sold my last one of the night.”
“To whom?”
She could offer that person more money and buy it herself. The alternative of having to attend another party in a few days was unacceptable. Mira wanted to try her potion as soon as possible.
Rylan scanned the crowd and then pointed at a tall man with silver-white hair. “To him.”
“How much for Frost?” she asked.
“Twenty.”
She handed him the bills and put the vial of serrumptase in her pocket.
“Please consider me for your next drug purchase.” Rylan grinned.
The bar was lined with eager patrons trying to gain the attention of the bartender, who was busy mixing drinks. Magic cocktails exploded with glitter, purple and yellow. One of them brimmed with rainbow-colored foam in the shape of a unicorn. Another sparkled like tiny fireworks. Mesmerized, Mira stared at the drinks, one more outrageous than the next. What ingredients and spells were necessary to create those particular reactions?
The man with silver-white hair was downing one shot after another, and she hoped he hadn’t used up the last vial of direweed potion yet. He was talking to his friends when Mira made her way through the crowd. There was no way to make this interaction not awkward. If she didn’t know how to purchase drugs from a dealer, she was even less stealthy when it came to buying them from a customer.
“Hi,” she said with the utmost charm she could muster, but the man in front of her didn’t even turn to face her.
She didn’t need to see his right hand to know he was a Wielder. He exuded arrogance. She and Ella used to guess a person’s specialty based on their look. The man before her was an easy guess. His high-collared shirt was tailored perfectly. The silk brocade on his black waistcoat shimmered in the candlelight. She spotted a signet ring on his left hand. Legacy money.
There was something in the way he carried himself—a bit too sure of himself, as if he was untouchable—that was a dead giveaway. Plus, he ignored her. Definitely a Wielder.
The vial of green liquid poked out from the breast pocket of his waistcoat.
“Sorry, this is going to sound strange,” she tried again, not sure if he was even listening to her. “I’m a first-year at Ivercrest and had a really terrible day. I guess I was hoping you would sell me the vial of direweed? I’ll pay you double for it.”
Finally, he turned toward her. His face was sharp and angular, as if cut from marble. When his gaze settled on her, she suddenly wasn’t sure if she wanted any of his attention. His cold gray eyes locked on her. They were unnaturally colorless. Inhuman. Violent.
She held her breath, waiting for him to speak, wondering if she should run.
“I don’t know which I find more offensive,” he said in a voice that could only be described as aristocratic. “The fact that you think I care about forty quants or the lie you just told.” Elegantly, he crossed one foot over the other like it was a rehearsed dance move.
“I’m not lying.”
A grin spread on his otherwise motionless face. “That’s another lie. You don’t strike me as a person to consume direweed.”