Sybil watched, wary, as I plundered her storeroom. Packets of herbs joined powders, stones, and bones.
“You’ll bleed me dry,” she said without rancor.
“We still wouldn’t be even, though as spell ingredients go, your blood is top-shelf.”
“Don’t threaten me, boy.”
I gave her my true smile. “We both know that isn’t necessary. Times have changed.”
“I could tell you how it all ends.” A brittle offer.
“I’ll pass. You’re no altruist, so I’ll save my question for something I really want to know.”
“Like how to kill your father?”
She laughed. “Never so easy. He lives.”