Book Eight: Chapter 36

“I’ve never seen Hamlet. I’ve never seen any of Shakespeare’s work performed, actually.” Sofia looked away and tugged at her braid. “I remember when those books came in, actually. There were still three of us at the time.”

“You never talk about the others,” he said.

“And I don’t plan to,” she replied. “Those aren’t fond memories.”

He fought the urge to ask why. She was opening up and he didn’t want the door to close. Instead, he turned his attention toward his meal, and Sofia did the same. They ate in silence until most of the food was gone. Once finished, Sofia stood and tapped her staff a couple of times, the magic washing over her and creating a temporary aura.

“Much better,” she said.

“Sober now?” asked Mike.

“Mostly.” She walked back to the busted shelf and Mike followed. When they arrived, she waved her staff. The shelf lifted into the air and slowly eased itself back into place. Tiny grains of wood floated up from below, finding thei