The Paragon screwed his mouth into a shrivel. “How small can the matter be if it requires privacy?”

“Now that you mention it, perhaps I could call the Winter Queen to join us.”

The Paragon rolled his eyes. “You are such a sore loser.” He plunged his hands into the pocket of his robes and pulled out what looked like a coin purse with a pink unicorn stitched into the fabric. “Hold on.” He peered at me through the thick lenses of his glasses. “Literally.”

He flicked the purse open, and it was hard to say if everything in the coin purse exploded out, replacing our surroundings, or if the coin purse sucked us inside. All I knew was one moment we were standing in the library, then after a gust of wind that made me shut my eyes, and the feeling of the ground slithering beneath my feet, we were in an entirely different room.

It appeared to be a workshop crossed with…a rec room? A foosball table and a big screened TV were placed next to a bookshelf of books that were probably older than the United States of America. Glass vials filled with rainbow colored liquids were carefully arranged next to a cooking station that was lined with cupboards of ingredients. The biggest part of the room was claimed by a massive wooden desk made out of thick tree trunks and branches supporting a polished wooden tabletop. Three similarly crafted bookshelves were crammed behind it. It seemed to me they were all alive, because as I watched two of the bookshelves sprouted leaves, and the desk grew a flower.

Impressed, I glanced over at the Paragon.

He proudly shook his coin purse and grinned at me. “A pocket realm! Fae magic at its best!”

“This is your office?” I guessed.

The Paragon puffed up his chest and stretched his arms out, beckoning to the room. “Given my role as the top fae representative in America, I travel frequently from Court to Court. Naturally, my work must come with me.”

I peered around the office again. “So that means we’re in the fae realm?”

“A tiny sliver of it that is under my direct control, yes. Though my office isn’t stationary in the fae realm—that would make me too easy for those wretch nobles to find.” He made a face, then furrowed his brow and clawed at his mustache when he nearly inhaled a whisker.

Killian plopped down on an elaborately carved chair made of white wood. “Have you finished schooling the wizard?”

The Paragon flipped his glasses up again, this time to peer at me. “A wizard? My, my—I never thought you’d keep mixed company, Mr. Paranoid.”

“She may be of use to me.” Killian glanced at the living desk, which sprouted a chrysanthemum at the corner closest to him. He narrowed his eyes at it, and the flower instantly withered and died. “Which is why I brought her here. She’s a Medeis—the last one.”

“Ahh, you are Hazel Medeis.” Some of his pluck left the Paragon and was replaced with moroseness as he bowed his head. “I heard of your parents. I am sorry for your loss. Wait.” He furrowed his brows and glanced back at Killian. “What are you doing with the House Medeis Adept? Did you kidnap her? You shouldn’t do that, you know. Even if the wizards fear you and let you have her, it’s not a good look. Besides, you don’t even like humans, much less wizards!”

Killian smiled, and the black-red of his eyes seemed to lighten up into more of a glowing blood red. “She came to me willingly. Some infighting in her House, I believe, but I don’t care about that.”

The Paragon glanced at me—I couldn’t tell if he was looking to me for confirmation, or was checking to see if I was shocked by Killian’s careless words.

I wasn’t surprised. Killian Drake wasn’t feared just because he’s good at smoldering. His general disregard for any life except vampires had gotten him a pretty dark reputation. In fact, if he had shown interest in Mason and everything that had gone down with House Medeis, I would have turned tail and run for all I was worth. I did not want a vampire mucking around in my business—particularly one as powerful and terrifying as Killian Drake.

The Paragon blinked, but kept on staring at me.

I shrugged a bit and edged away from Celestina—the much taller woman loomed over me as she perused the bookshelf just behind me.

“What interests me is her magic—or lack of,” Killian continued. “She’s awful at magic. Lighting a candle is probably as useful as her magic gets, even though she’s a Medeis. Given her pedigree, that seems a bit suspicious.”

The Paragon frowned. “You think she’s faking it?”

“No,” Killian snorted. “Wizards are far too proud—if she really had more power her House would have trumpeted it from the walls when she made Adept. No, she believes she’s a near dud in magic. Which makes me suspect her powers were sealed as a child.”

The Paragon turned in a slow circle, tapping his fingers together. It took me a moment to realize it was in excitement. “It can be done—though I’ve never heard of anyone being stupid enough to want it. But the wizards have asked us fae in the past to seal the magic of their most dangerous criminals.”

The Paragon had a point—if my magic was sealed it was done by a fae. Though wizards have more natural magic since we channel it through our bodies, the way we can use it is limited. We can bend the elements to our will—like fire, wind, water, you get the point—and fight or defend with raw magic.

The fae are in a similar but opposite position. Since they have to use things to channel magic for them, they can use magic for things like sealing powers, disguises, imbedding a spell in an item, a strain of hypnosis, and so on. They can’t react as quickly as a human wizard can, and in a magic fight a human wizard would win over a fae. But outside of fighting—which is more useful since supernaturals hadn’t had a large scale wars in decades—fae magic has far more uses.

Like sealing someone’s access to magic.

But even though it was possible, the idea that my magic was sealed was totally stupid. There’s no way my parents would have allowed it—and no one could have done it without their knowledge. (Besides, who would have done it? Mason had obviously been planning a long time, but I doubt he had his takeover in mind when he was ten.)

“Perhaps Aphrodite might be able to tell if she’s sealed.” The Paragon made his way over to a bookshelf behind his desk.

Killian rolled his eyes. “That abomination can’t sense magic any better than a fruit fly.”

The Paragon gasped in horror. “How dare you say such things about this majestic creature!” He turned to a massive, velvet red cushion that was carefully placed on the middle shelf. Resting on the cushion was what I had assumed was a preserved egg from the fae realm—it was a very unusual shade of pink.

But when the Paragon put his hand on it, the egg uncurled, revealing spindly legs, a hairless tail, and a wrinkled head ornamented with ears so big they were almost bat-like.

It took me several long moments to realize the Paragon was petting a hairless cat that had a prominent belly and wrinkle lines that made the feline look angry.

“He didn’t mean it, my dear,” the Paragon told his…unique cat. “He’s jealous of your inherent beauty and great charm.”

“I have never seen that cat leave its cushion in its whole life,” Killian said. “It has no charm to speak of.”

“Don’t listen to him, Aphrodite.” The Paragon scratched the cat under the chin and was rewarded with a deep purr even I could hear.

“Aphrodite?” I cautiously asked.

The Paragon beamed at me. “Aphrodite is a hairless sphinx cat with the bluest of bloodlines and a peerless pedigree! She came from a particularly famous litter of sphinx kittens, for her siblings have been scattered across various realms to bless the residents of the universe!”

“Mmmert,” Aphrodite said.

The Paragon apparently wasn’t anywhere near finished as he beamed at his treasured pet. “Given her great beauty and remarkable family, I knew I had to give her a name worthy of her glory! Inspired by a great number of Renaissance paintings, I settled on Aphrodite.”

“Don’t—” Killian started to say.

“Why?” I asked.

A thin wrinkle connected Killian’s eyebrows, expressing his horror.

The Paragon, however, chortled. “Because as it seems Renaissance artists were incapable of creating art in which the goddess Aphrodite was clothed, neither can fur be allowed to hide the greatness that is my feline companion!”

Shocked, I stared at the bald cat. “I…see?”

“Indeed!” The Paragon laughed until his precious cat hooked her claws in his tunic and pulled. “Wait—you must sheathe your claws, Aphrodite. I can’t let you ruin this robe, too!”

Killian looked physically pained—or ill. I wasn’t sure which, but either way it made my day to see him uncomfortable. “Stop playing with the cat and check to see if she’s sealed.”

“But—”

“Now!”

“Bossy!” the Paragon huffed. He made a face at Killian, then beckoned to me. “Step this way, wizardling.” He shuffled across his office, pausing at the far side of the room where a massive, spiraled horn leaned against a wall. He picked it up, grumbling under his breath as he struggled to hold it. “Mutant giant unicorn,” he complained as he staggered to a dark corner of his office. “Thing was an abomination. I can only hope it didn’t breed like rabbits. Here we go.” He maneuvered the horn—which was almost as long as I was tall—so the sharpened point was tilted down, then tapped the ground.

That corner, which had previously appeared dark and dusty, flared to life. Elaborate swirls and circles of stars burned a bright gold on the ground. The light left the circle and traced up the sides of the wall in thick strokes reminiscent of trees, then crawled across the ceiling in another star pattern so the entire corner glowed with magic.

The Paragon slapped his hands on his robe, then pointed to a crescent moon at the dead center of the circle. “Stand in the center, if you please. Yes, right there.”