Seraphina was still watching the envelope when Allen crossed back from the door. The morning had already asked enough of her. The color had returned to her face after standing, but her legs still trembled under the cotton hem of her white nightgown, small movements she hadn't acknowledged once. Allen stopped beside the wheelchair and angled the envelope until the dark wax faced her. Gideon Veton's personal seal made her violet eyes sharpen. "Later." Seraphina looked from the seal to him. "You just bullied your legs into standing. My father's paper can wait." Her mouth tightened. Allen crouched at her right side. "Don't give me that look." She gave him exactly that look. Allen tipped forward and brush

Allen dressed for the Veton meeting without his Guild jacket. The D-rank badge stayed home with it. He was already in a plain dark shirt and trousers when Maris arrived. Fendrel was outside, checking the street and the narrow approach to the house. No sword hung at Allen's hip. Silverhowl [Uncommon] stayed where it belonged in Dominion Cache [Epic]. Seraphina watched him from her wheelchair. Her white nightgown lay loose over her knees, both feet resting on the footrests. Yesterday she had stood. Today Allen wasn't letting that achievement turn into an excuse to overwork her before he walked into House Veton. His right thigh tugged when he bent to tighten his boots. The wound from Cinder Quarry had closed enough to be an annoyance instead of a problem. The burn along his left forearm felt tight under the sleeve. Rapid Regeneration [Rare] had kept working through both injuries, but it hadn't erased them overnight.<

The clinic clerk looked at Allen's D-rank badge, then at Seraphina."Seraphina Valemont?"Seraphina gave a small nod from her wheelchair.The clerk checked the appointment entry again. Her eyes paused at the S-rank beside Seraphina's name. Then she moved on."Condition appraisal is 1 Star Gold," she said. "Paid before examination."Allen retrieved the fee from Dominion Cache [Epic].The coin settled into his empty right palm. He placed it on the counter.The clerk's mouth opened when the coin appeared, then closed. She swept it toward herself and stood. "This way."Allen released the wheelchair brakes. Seraphina's pale-blue skirt lay clear of the wheels, her blue shawl folded around her shoulders. He pushed her down a short corridor and into a private room that smelled faintly of soap and lamp oil.There wasn't much inside. A desk. A chair. An examination lamp. A handheld lens resting beside a stack of

Allen kept the wheelchair moving toward the Guild. The clinic soon fell behind them. Seraphina sat straight beneath her blue shawl. Her pale-blue skirt stayed tucked safely over her knees while rough stone made the wheelchair shiver under her. Allen slowed over the worst patches and pushed on. The specialist had given him a category, not an answer. Nullglass-class suppression meant restricted access and records that should exist somewhere. That was enough to start. The Guild hall was busier than the clinic. Hunters crowded the front floor, clerks called names over the noise, and somebody near the mission boards was arguing about a missing stamp. Allen ignored all of it. A porter moved aside when he saw the wheelchair. Allen guided Seraphina through the gap without clipping a bench, then took the quieter corridor toward records. No one stopped them until the old cou

Late afternoon light lay across the front room in a long pale strip. Allen had cleared it before lunch. No chair leg, no loose rug, nothing for Seraphina's bare foot to catch if her balance went bad. Her wheelchair waited at the near end with the brakes locked. The front door stood well beyond the clear floor. Seraphina stared at it as if it had offended her. Allen stood at her right, slightly ahead. "You're picking a fight with the door again." Her pale-violet eyes slid to him. A tiny lift of her chin. Allen snorted. "Figured." She reached for him. Her right hand closed around his left forearm while her left palm settled on the wheelchair armrest. Allen placed his right hand against the back-right side of her waist, firm enough to give her something solid without taking her weight for her. Her white nightgown shifted around her ankles as she planted