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This wasn’t the same, of course, and she knew it was silly to feel that way—he wasn’t saying anything about her personally, just that he needed a sorcerer to fix whatever spell kept the greenhouses intact and warm and hospitable. The problem was she was guilty: she’d cast a spell. What if she extracted a few lines of spell at a time and focused on fixing just a small facet of the greenhouse, instead of trying to tackle the entire structure? At last, the flames dwindled low, and he didn’t add more.