“What do you need?” I asked as I took the iron blade from Sir Holland, sheathing it. “Many things,” she replied. “One of those chocolate scones Orlano makes when he’s in a good mood would be lovely. Along with cooled tea. A good book that isn’t misery fiction, which begs the question—why do the curators of the city Atheneum think any of us wants to read things that only depress us?” she asked, rocking back on her heeled slippers as Sir Holland rubbed at his brow.”