Imonie merged into city life with ease, tending to the house and cooking for us. But my father and I were stricken and lost, perusing the classified column of the daily paper for possible work. There were no openings for a dream warden in the city, which seemed unbelievable to me, given how vast Endellion was. So many people, so many nightmares, so many streets. But I swiftly learned that territory was divided into small segments, and there were far too many magicians and not enough positions. A dream warden was a highly contested profession, my mother said when she saw both Papa and I were helplessly searching the ads.

“We could challenge someone this upcoming new moon,” I said to him after dinner one night, when he and I sat alone by the fire. “We could win new territory here in the city.”

My father studied the dance of the flames. “No, Clem. I won’t do what the Vespers did to us.”

And I understood why, yet I wanted to regain my position. I needed to be doing something here, for fear I might dissolve into dust.

“Then why don’t we return to Hereswith and challenge Lennox? We would still have the advantage, Papa. We know the nightmares.” But even as I said it, the words sounded unfeasible, desperate. Dishonorable. I couldn’t envision my father lowering himself like that, even if I could—somewhat—see it of myself.

“I think it’s time to put away nightmares and dreams and new moons,” he said, to my dismay. When he looked at me, I saw that he had fully accepted defeat, that he was done as warden. “We’re here now. There are many new avenues to take in the city. Let’s put the past behind us and start a new life.”

“A life without magic?” I asked, and I could scarcely comprehend it. That he would want to let all his skill and diligence go to waste, until his spells sank into the darkest place of memory, rusted from disuse.

“Perhaps it would be best, Clem.”

I buried my opinions, but I was angry. At him, at the Vespers. At myself for losing a challenge I should have easily triumphed.

And the anger smoldered in me like a star.

“Come, you need a walk,” Imonie said to me a week later. “I’m heading to the bakery and could use the company.”

I hadn’t left my mother’s house in days, so I set aside my book and laced my boots, following her out the front door.