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... iled gently. The breath that escaped his smile tickled Binaeril’s nose. They were close enough for Binaeril to smell the boy’s scent, an odd mix of sable leather and the musty pages of an old book. It was an unnatural scent, and Binaeril realized that it didn’t belong to a living being.

“How are you going to help me?” Binaeril asked.

“What is magic?” the boy replied with another question.

Here we go again, answering questions with questions. But Binaeril had no choice but ...

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The man smiles and pats her on the head, “Come on, stop crying. Wash and go to bed.”

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