The infirmary smelled like boiled linen, blood, and wolfsbane. The last one reached me before the doors did. Asteria lifted inside my ribs, not with the violent force she'd used in the hall, but with a low, steady anger that tightened every muscle in my back. *Same poison

The old case fit inside one leather folder. Five years of my life did not. Lucian laid the folder on the council table without opening it. "Before anyone speaks," he said, "we separate what was seen, what was assumed, and what was ordered."

Adrian sat at the

"Years?" Adrian said.

The healer did not look at him. He looked at me.

"Years."

He spread three sheets across the council table: blood work, hair analysis, and a narrow strip of parchment filled with dates. "The concentration in your blood now is low bec