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glanced out the window. Roan was digging in the yard. Since breaking the curse, he’d busied himself around Eliza’s house as if he’d been there all his life. If Dai dug into the magic of the world in the same way, he’d do irreversible harm. Who knew what the shock waves would do, or what threads would loosen? It would only take a few cut threads to unravel the world as everyone knew it and make it into something else. He swept the broken glass to the side with the edge of his hand, then changed his mind and used magic to push the shards back into place as if the bulbs were never broken. The familiar pressure in his temples returned. He didn’t remember being told magic would hurt. But then what didn’t?
    “I’m sorry for keeping you on hold. The processing is taking much longer than I first thought.” The man paused. “Is there any reason you require all of those magical texts?”
    Dai narrowed his eyes. There was something beneath the question, like the slither of scales over skin. A shiver ran down his spine. The real issue wasn’t the texts; it was the magical secrets they held. The lore he’d paid little attention to when his sole aim was breaking the curse, information he could really use. Dabbling in magic without proper safeguards was dangerous.
    While searching for a way to break the curse, he’d studied under masters of the art in the Fixed Realm, but everything had been theoretical. As a goblin, he’d been unable to practice human magic—but he’d understood it the same way he’d understood the Shadowlands magic, even though he couldn’t use that either. His knowledge had given him standing despite his goblin appearance and his inability to perform even the simplest trick. The theory and practice were different and he’d forgotten too much, or remembered the wrong bits. Either way the answers he sought were in his books.
    He projected a calm he didn’t feel into his words, as if he didn’t truly care about the delay. “No, just interested in curses.” He forced out a dark laugh. “They’ve fascinated me for too long.” He wished he’d paid closer attention to the other studies of magic.
    “Mmm.” The Birch employee didn’t believe him. “So you aren’t using magic?”
    His heart gave a heavy thump. Did they know? He turned the question around and answered before the pause could become suspicious.
    “Don’t you think if I could actually use magic, I would’ve broken the curse that bound Roan and me to the Shadowlands a little sooner?” Not a total lie. He would have broken the curse a lot sooner if he’d been able to use magic while in the Shadowlands. No one in their right mind wanted to live in the Shadowlands—he’d spent as much time as he could in the Fixed Realm, but looking like a goblin had its own problems.
    Why was Birch Trustees so interested in books about magic?
    “Yes. I’m sorry, Mr. King.”
    He winced at the use of his name; he was never going to get used to hearing it.
    “Birch will be in contact in a few days regarding your library.” The line went dead.
    Dai placed the phone down carefully instead of slamming it into the table the way he wanted. They wouldn’t call. If he wanted his books back, he would have to fight for them. The same way he always had to fight for everything.
    He closed his eyes as the talons pressed closer to his heart and the pain radiated through his back. There had to be another way—yeah, don’t use magic—but he knew he couldn’t just stop. The world tempted him to play with every breath. It was around him, part of him, the way the magic of the Shadowlands had been part of Roan. Fixed Realm magic was different though; it didn’t require the payment of soul. Well, most Fixed Realm magic didn’t. The kind he wanted to use didn’t. The other kind, well, he’d survived one curse and had no intention of being part of another. Some magic was best left well alone.
    The room became too small. He didn’t want to hide from the