I can see why Corinth chose this place to settle down. The neighborhood is not anything to brag about, but there is a quietude to it that is relaxing. I sit in the backroom of the penthouse, staring out the window that takes up the full walk, watching the sparkling city in the night. The bronze that coats the buildings slowly shimmers in the reflective lights of the street, dark obelisks of smooth metal rising up toward the sky.

  In this room tonight, I am both alone and not at the same time. My finger trails the rim of the glass next to me; it’s some cinnamon concoction Dovik came up with. It isn’t very good, but it manages to get past my defenses to deliver a soothing buzz. The second glass is better than the first.

  The couch folds to enclose me as I sink into the cushions. There is almost a sense of falling and of falling into sleep at the same time. I can’t, not today, not for a few days at least. If there is one thing I am practiced at doing, it is pushing away the exhaustion.

  I’ve heard before that we need sleep, that it restores our minds and helps our bodies fix themselves, and that without sleep, it is impossible to really learn. I don’t know about the learning, and my body fixes itself fine without it, but there is no rest for my mind in dreams. It is only in the little moments, those times when I can let all of it go and stare off toward something I don’t see. That is the only rest.

  There is a buzz in the room next to me, and Corinth appears from a flash of fire. His shin clips the coffee table, and it groans against the floor as it is shifted. My brother looks around, his one burning eye taking in the dark room before landing on me. I draw another sip from my glass.

  “Six minutes,” I say to him. I gesture to the broken wafer on the coffee table between us. “Somehow, I expected you to be faster.”

  Cornith looks down at the wafer, the signaling device he gave me before leaving, and picks it up. “Getting across the world in six minutes is pretty good,” he says. “This was supposed to be for emergencies.”

  “I have one,” I admit, lifting my glass and finishing it off.

  “Are you drunk?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “I wish.” I ponder the glass for a moment before making it disappear into my storage ring. “One day, I don’t imagine I will even be able to find a buzz anymore. There will be no more answers at the bottoms of bottles.”

  “What is the problem, Charlene?” he asks.

  “My friend, Jess, woke up. You remember her? She is the lizardkin woman you said that you couldn’t help. Soul damage, I think it was.”

  Corinth smiles wanly and gestures at his missing eye. “As you can see, I don’t have much luck with healing soul damage.”

  “She woke up. Dovik received a letter from his mother. She managed to help her enough to get her awake and stable. Jess is in Grim. I need you to take us there.”

  “Us?”

  “Dovik is worrying in his room,” I say, gesturing over my shoulder. “He didn’t think we should bother you about this. He is dumb like that.”

  Corinth’s face scrunches as he takes in the information. I notice there are tears on his clothes and what appear to be specks of black ichor clinging to his empty sleeve. Was he in a fight before coming here? What could possibly harm my brother out there? Even as I watch, the clothing continues to knit itself back together, undoing any lingering damage. The repair is slow, but I would kill for that enchantment.

  “You’re asking your big brother to take you to your friend’s house?” Corinth asks, his worried expression turning into a grin. “I suppose I can do that.”

  “I think I’ll need a new wafer too,” I say, gesturing at the broken piece on the table.

  “Well, I’m out of those,” he says. “I did ask you to only use it in an emergency.”

  I click my tongue, looking down at it. Of all the things that have happened to me in the last weeks, this is what I was going to call my brother about. It felt right. I don’t need to bother him with things as lowly as criminals stealing from me or buildings blowing up around me. He is an important man; his concerns are for higher things, but that isn’t why I don’t tell him. My reasons are more selfish, more prideful.

  My feet slide away from the footrest; the heels of my boots clunk onto the ground. “This qualifies,” I say to him, pushing myself to stand. “Can you go now, or do you need a few minutes?”

  “Whenever you are ready,” he answers, opening his hand and beginning to build a spell construct. The interlacing runic symbols are years past my ability to understand, but there are some that I recognize. Weeks of difficult study have granted me that much.

  “I’ll go get Dovik then,” I say, popping my neck.

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