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... g part way to my lips as I let out a laugh. The wyvern, Avier, was standing in the middle of a small round table between Mordain, Lyra, and me. At that moment, the green-feathered, horned owl was hopping from one leg to the other and speaking rapidly.

“And then she looks up at me, head in her hands—I can only see her eyes through her splayed fingers at this point—and says, ‘I just don’t know what to do with the boy, Avier. I either need to hang him from a gibbet…or make him a professor!’ ...

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