“This isn’t the first time the house has done this. I stayed in a different room, then … I think that room is still stained red.” He looked up at me, almost in earnest, as if the room he stayed in was the most important detail of the story. “The Manifestation paralyzed me, like it did tonight. I couldn’t leave, couldn’t scream for help. And if … if you know how it feels when you’re drowning, your lungs feel tight from lack of air, and you think your head might explode. Well I felt that way, all night. My lungs burning, longing for air. Until the morning when the blood receded…”

My throat burned with a sob stuck inside. It was far too easy to sympathize. I’d grown up with that drowning sensation. A few times, when Jember had been preparing me for “the real world,” he would choke me and make me figure out how to make him let go. More often than not, it ended with me blacking out. And then he’d lecture on using my body weight to my advantage and not being afraid to force my thumbs into an attacker’s eye sockets.

Of course, Real World Prep days normally ended in us stealing baklava from the corner bakery. I doubt the Evil Eye gave Magnus sweets whenever it finished drowning him.

Magnus had been tugging absently on his sweater, poking his fingers in the weaving and stretching holes in it. “It didn’t even have the decency to kill me,” he muttered.

I went to the bed, hesitating before resting my hand on Magnus’s shoulder.

The castle was worse off than I thought. I should’ve figured, seeing as ten licensed professionals had come and left before me. It was clear I was in over my head. I needed advice. Help.

For once, Jember, please be cooperative.

Magnus looked up at me and then opened the drawer beside his bed and took out a handkerchief, holding it up to me. “Are you sure you don’t want Saba to take a look?”

“I’m fine,” I murmured, wiping my forehead clean before pressing the now-damp cloth to my wound.

“What can I do to even the score?”

“It’s my job, sir.”

“Saving my life isn’t your job. You could’ve left me to suffer. Or constructed the amulet from outside the door, out of harm’s way. I am in your debt now.”

He stood up, slow enough that I could’ve backed away … close enough, that I should’ve.

“Name your price, Andromeda,” he said.

I looked up into his face, which looked down at me. Challenging me. He wanted to see if I’d give in and ask for something in return for saving him, and as petty as it felt, I wouldn’t do it. I was used to being challenged and used to intimidating in return.