“And that is another one,” I mutter to myself, cautiously pouring the hot concoction into yet another vial. This batch filled fewer bottles compared to the first batch I made. “That makes… eight, nine, ten… eleven, all in all. Hm, will this be enough, though?”

“Severin, we are making those for emergency escapes,” Maia says, interrupting my chain of thought. “Not dazing the entire borough. That is more than enough, o’ magical man-witch.”

I look up and scrunch my nose at her teasing, putting down the pot to seal the bottle in my hand with its cork.

“Firstly, I have told you countless times now: I am a conjuror, not a witch! There is a difference.”

“I wonder where you learned that term from.”

“Secondly, you can never be too prepared for anything and everything. How is the map of the manor going, dagger-lady?”

She ignores my attempt at teasing her back and instead scribbles something down, eyes flicking from one part of the hand-drawn map to another. Well, that was embarrassing…

“Ma