A month had passed since Maerith’s return, and for the time being, she was free.

  It had been long since her direct involvement was required in the daily affairs of the store and its branches. She skimmed through reports, signed off on shipments and goods, approved funds for materials, and ensured her employees were paid on time. The business was hers built from the ground up by her own hands. She had scouted her employees personally and trained most of them herself, all so that days like this could exist.

  Days where she could be worry-free.

  Days where she could laze about and do as she pleased.

  She would never admit it aloud, but she suspected Violet had inherited more than a few of her habits from her.

  With things in good order, Maerith decided it was time to turn her attention to her youngest niece. Violet had begun to slack, brilliant in magic theory, yes, but lacking in active casting and proper aether control. The girl had even dared to ask why she needed to learn such things when she would never need to fight.

  Mainly because she had Maerith.

  A foolish assumption.

  Maerith would have liked to teach Violet the way she herself had learned runeweaving, but she would rather not break her niece. Perhaps in the future—when all else had failed—she would reconsider.

  And so began a month of what Violet, and on certain days Astrid, would come to call torture.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Maerith was rarely satisfied until she had drained Violet nearly aetherless. Astrid, at least, was always left with enough reserves to avoid any harm to her health. Complaints were plentiful, as expected, but as always, the girls learned, and at times even enjoyed the lessons.

  Maerith had a habit of offering hard-earned wisdom or fragments of rare runic knowledge in the midst of exhaustion, insights that quietly deepened their mastery far more than hours of study ever could.

  Then a message arrived.

  It came from Gaspinn, a city close to Viremont and home to one of the Zephyr branches. A shipment of materials bound for the capital had been mistakenly sent there instead, and clearance had become an ordeal. Without a seal from headquarters, the forms could not be stamped, each branch used its own seal, an inconvenience born of the kingdom’s mercantile laws.

  Maerith sighed.

  She would have sent Sandra, but her head assistant was currently in Jorona, a city in the opposite direction, handling affairs there. Maerith herself could not leave; someone needed to remain in Viremont.

  Trusting either of the girls to manage the store alone was out of the question. She had no doubt they would shirk their duties in one way or another, and she had no intention of losing clientele because of them.

  So she turned to the next best option, Anna, Sandra’s trainee. The girl was competent, level-headed, and dependable.

  Only to her dismay, Maerith learned that Anna was in Molwen, temporarily overseeing operations while the branch screened candidates to replace the recently retired head.

  Maerith sighed again.

  There was no avoiding it now. She would have to send her worries far beyond her reach, where she could neither keep them in check nor watch over them.

  She would send Violet.

  And Astrid would go with her.

  With the new medication Astrid had been prescribed, travel would be safe. Perhaps her presence would keep Violet in line.

  Maerith hoped.

  At the very least, Violet was no longer as troublesome as she had been in her youth.

  The thought drew a shadowed smile and a long, lingering sigh from her.