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He moved his right hand and his Shadowflame activated.

“What are you doing?” she asked, concerned.

“Containing the Dark Magic,” he responded in a quiet voice as cold mist touched her skin.

Then he applied a salve from the glass container. Minutes ago, those same fingers had wielded deadly magic like it was nothing. She stared at him, mesmerized by his attention to detail. His eyes remained focused on her wound.

And then suddenly, the pain subsided.

“There,” he said. “You should be able to use your healing spell now. If not, I can get you to Ivercrest.”

She stared at her shoulder. The cut was still there, but the pain had stopped. Her shoulder simply felt cold and numb.

“How do you know so much about wound care?” she asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “Had to patch myself up many times during the war.” His chin jerked to her shoulder. “Do you think you can cast a healing spell now? It will eventually start to bleed again if you don’t.”

Just as she had done during her entry test at Ivercrest, Mira focused on her White Magic, especially the branch in her mind responsible for healing endare cuts. This time, when she directed the spell, it found its target. The wound fused together, and she dug her nails into her palm at the sensation.

“Thank you,” she said, and she meant it, because he had saved her life at Buckley’s house.

It was strange how safe she felt in his presence. Even when he had just killed four people easily and without remorse.

“Don’t mention it.” His eyes danced over her face, searching for something. It felt dangerous but for a very different reason.

She cleared her throat. “How involved is the council?”

He conjured a fresh white shirt and placed it next to her on the table, then he turned around. She put on the shirt, which went to her knees, and her arms disappeared in the too-long sleeves.

But he dodged the question by answering it with one of his own. “Why did you go to Buckley’s house by yourself?”

“How did you know I was there?”

He turned to face her again. “You’re not answering my question.”

She crossed her arms. “Because I’m tired of the secrecy. You and Obryn don’t trust me with all the information, and I want to be done with this assignment already.”

“Ah, and heading to a former crime scene by yourself seemed like the way to do it. I guess it would have ended your assignment one way or another.”

“I answered your question. Now answer mine: How did you know where to find me?”

“I was looking for you, and when you weren’t at any of the three or four places your sad life normally allows you to be, I assumed something was wrong. Then, I spotted Buckley’s case file on your desk with his address circled in red ink.”

“So you followed me?”

He let out an exasperated breath. “Yes, that seems to be my crime, Winters. I followed you as a group of assassins descended upon you. But not to worry, you had the white spells at the ready.”

She groaned. “Give it a rest with the white spells.”

He flashed her a grin. “Only if you will.”

“The council is either covering up something or they’re directly involved with these murders.”

He gave a nod.

Having the council involved meant this was so much larger than what she originally thought. If someone high up wanted certain Wielders dead, the question was why?

“Do you think the council is working on something and testing it on Wielders? A potion, perhaps?” she asked.