“The public library?” I asked, walking over to him.

“The private reading room,” he said. “It has been council ground for fifty years.”

He sat down in his leather chair, rubbing his temples.

“Your head still hurts?” I asked.

“A little,” he admitted. “But the fog is clearing.”

“We need to make sure the poison is completely out of your system,” I said. “You shouldn’t wear any of your old suits.”

“I don’t have many options left,” he said, looking at the garment bag I had brought with me earlier.

“The midnight blue wool,” I said, pointing to the bag resting against the wall. “I finished the lining myself. It is completely clean.”

He looked at the bag, then up at me.

“Then I will wear that,” he said.

The phone on his desk suddenly buzzed, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

Aries stared at the glowing screen.

He didn’t pick it up immediately.

The vibration hummed against the wood of the desk, a steady, demanding sound.

“Who is it?” I whispered.

“The mediator,” Aries said, his voice tightening. “He’s calling to confirm the attendance for tomorrow.”