As with most people I’ve met, once they have what they want, the scholars of the Black Archives are far nicer to me. In that they leave me the afterlife alone.

“Humans really are humans, no matter where they are or how smart they think they are,” I groan, massaging my head as Yorl undoes my restraints. When I wake up again he’s the only one left in the room, the instruments and blood all cleared out and cleaned up. It’s like nothing ever happened—like I just sat down here and fell asleep. With leather wristbands on, but still.

“The entry hole closed almost instantly.” Yorl jerks his hairy chin to where I’m massaging my skull. “In a way that suggests your new witch is either very powerful, or very attentive to you.”

“I want it to be the latter,” I admit. “But I think it’s more likely the former.”

“Or a combination of both,” Yorl suggests.

“I forgot I can always rely on you to be the stark realist,” I tease, poking his wet nose lightly with one finger when my hand works free. “Yes, it’s true. I’m in love with my witch.”

Yorl mechanically undoes my other restraint, not a single twitch on his face.

“No applause, please,” I add.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he deadpans, offering a spare shift. “Do you want new clothes, or what?”

“Here I am talking about direly important things like love,” I huff. “And all you want to talk about is which burlap sack would look best on me!”

“I doubt your love’s going to appreciate it if you come back looking like that.” He motions to my blood-smeared everything, and I sigh, grabbing the shift.

“You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

Ignoring his infuriating confidence, I slip behind the throne to change.

“So,” I start, pulling blood-soaked cotton over my head carefully. “How’ve you been? What’ve you eaten? How many other girls have you experimented on while I was gone?”

“You’d think a recent death experience would make you less chatty, not more.” He sighs. “Come. We need to vacate the surgery.”

I walk around the throne, now far drier and cleaner-looking. “Personally I’d call it a dungeon, but all right. You’re the boss. Although apparently not enough of a boss. Do you always let the other polymaths in here push you around?”

“I’d like you to realize earning a kingsmedal whilst also bypassing initiate and going straight to adjutant is a feat no one has accomplished in the history of the Black Archives ever.”

“Goodness! Both firsts in history, the two of us.” I walk out with him, his silver robe swishing along the floor. “When will I get my results back?”

“They aren’t yours to get back,” Yorl says evenly.

“But you’re going to tell me what they think about them.”