Sanabalis led them past Imperial Guards toward a familiar set of doors: the Imperial Library. He opened the doors himself, which meant Kaylin didn’t have to touch them. The door wards on the library doors were special, and frequently raised an almost deafening alarm when touched by Kaylin; the Arkon had never chosen to make adjustments to the wards.

Kaylin wasn’t surprised to see the librarians behind the main desk; nor was she surprised when Sanabalis walked past them. He slowed his walking speed to accommodate Mrs. Erickson because she—like any first-time visitor to a library such as this—was glancing from side to side at the height of towering shelves, all of which contained books.

He walked past those books, and from there, past the shelves that, less impressive, contained fragile fragments of historical interest. This part of the collection was seldom seen, and never without appropriate permissions; the librarians were not allowed entry without them, either.

Beyond this were small halls and smaller doors, but Kaylin had a suspicion that the hall they would eventually take would not lead to any of the usual rooms the Arkon—Lannagaros—had occupied. Sanabalis passed them by, as expected. He then opened a door that led into a much darker space, gesturing light into being, as light was needed here. “I should make you do it,” he told Kaylin.

“It’s not my fault you’ve been too busy to teach me recently.”

“No. But your lack of practice can be laid at your feet; I feel at this point that consistent and constant practice would at least allow you to create a small light that would ease passage in darker spaces.”

“You’re learning magic?” Mrs. Erickson asked.

“She is fighting tooth and nail not to learn it,” Sanabalis replied, his voice a critical rumble.

“I’m allergic to magic,” Kaylin told Mrs. Erickson, feeling slightly guilty because she’d dragged the old woman here. “It makes my skin hurt.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Erickson replied, with a sympathetic tsk. “Are you going to be all right here today?”

“I wasn’t certain you’d want to come here alone. I mean, Sanabalis—Lord Sanabalis—the Arkon.” Gods, Kaylin hated titles. “The Arkon is a Dragon, and most people don’t interact much with Dragons.”

“He seems like a perfectly polite young man,” Mrs. Erickson said, as if to reassure Kaylin.

Sanabalis coughed. He was, in comparison to Mrs. Erickson’s lived years, beyond ancient. But Mrs. Erickson was hard to dislike, and almost impossible to find offensive unless your entire outlook on life depended on the ability to take offense. Kaylin had met a number of people like that, and she avoided them like the plague, which would probably be preferable.

“If you’d prefer we wait, we can do that, but I’m curious about the testing, and I’m almost certain the Arkon is going to have questions for me after the results are in.”