By midday, the laboratory's wards had dimmed to their usual steady pulse. The candle Aydris had melted the night before had already been replaced; the basin sat silent and perfect, as if nothing remarkable had ever happened.
Aydris, however, was already on her feet.
When Starlys came to check on her, the apprentice was sitting cross-legged on her bed, hair still mussed from sleep but eyes bright. "I'm fine," she insisted, stretching her hands. "Better than fine. I feel as if I've slept for a week."
Starlys studied her for a moment, then smiled. "You're near the Well. Even exhaustion heals faster here. Just don't run yourself ragged again."
Aydris promised—sincerely, if not convincingly—and by the time Vandryl returned from his morning meeting, she was already coaxing Jace to show her the city.
"You've been here for months," he protested, half amused. "How have you not seen anything?"
"Because you keep me in the lab," she said, tugging at his sleeve. "Come on. I need air, and tea that doesn't taste like wards."
He sighed, defeated. "Fine. But if Vandryl asks, you convinced me with logic and not sheer persistence."
Zin-Azshari glittered beneath the afternoon sun, every tower a prism. The streets were crowded but graceful, filled with the low hum of magic and laughter. Aydris walked close to Jace, eyes wide as a child's.
Their first stop was a museum tucked between two grand spires—one of Jace's favorites. Inside, the air smelled faintly of vellum and old paint. Murals of forests, seas, and starlight covered the walls—scenes of life before Queen Azshara's reign, of artisans and scholars whose names time had mostly swallowed.
Aydris lingered before a depiction of the first Kal'dorei astronomers, their telescopes aimed at a night sky. "It's beautiful," she murmured.
Jace smiled faintly. "It's also one of the few halls that doesn't feature Azshara in every third frame. That's why I like it."
After the museum, they found a narrow street lined with bookshops. Jace led her into a small one near the end, its shelves overflowing and its owner too ancient to notice the dust. The sign above the counter read, The Secret Story.
Aydris picked up a slim volume of Darnassian poetry and inhaled deeply. "I could live here," she said.
"You'd be buried under paper in a week," he replied, smiling.
"Worth it."
They left the shop with a single purchase—a slim volume on arcane physics. Jace tucked it under his arm with the guilty affection of a man smuggling a treasure, and found their way to a tiny café tucked under an ivy-covered arch.
The scent of baking drifted through the open windows. They took a table by the railing overlooking the canals, where the water reflected ribbons of light from the Well itself.
Jace ordered a moonberry muffin and his usual herbal tea; Aydris, a cinnamon roll and mint tea.
When the server departed, he watched the steam curl from her cup, and for a moment his expression softened into something far away.
"You look like you're somewhere else," she said lightly. "Are you sure the experiment didn't leave you drained?"
He blinked, then smiled. "No. I'm fine. It's just—cinnamon roll and mint tea. That was an old friend's favorite. Made me think of her."
Aydris tilted her head, teasing. "An old girlfriend?"
He laughed under his breath. "No. But it could have been."
She immediately flushed. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean—"
"It's all right," he said, still smiling. "When Vandryl asked us to come here, I had to cancel a date with her. Only our second, but it looked promising."
Aydris stirred her tea, eyes soft. "Maybe the world had other plans for you."
"Seems so."
They ate in companionable quiet, the city's heartbeat thrumming around them. The canal water shimmered, casting slow light across their faces.
Afterward, they wandered toward a nearby courtyard where musicians were performing. Lutes and flutes wove through the air, mingling with the scent of night-blooming lilies. Couples danced in the open square, laughter spilling like wine.
It was perfect—until Talyth Moonsworn, Azshara's personal bard, strode into the circle, brandishing a quill like a weapon and announcing, "I give you my next masterpiece: 'Ode to the Most Radiant Sovereign of All Tides and Timeless Beauty, Her Serene Highness, Queen Azshara.'"
Jace groaned audibly. Aydris choked on a laugh.
They slipped away before the first verse finished, ducking into a side street as the crowd dutifully applauded.
"Absurd," Jace muttered. "She commissions him for this, you know."
"I believe it," Aydris said, grinning. "I wonder if she pays him by the word. That title alone is worth several gold."
He glanced sideways at her, amusement softening into something warmer. "You really are feeling better."
"Completely," she said. "See? No harm done."
He nodded, but as they turned back toward the palace, he couldn't shake the image of her collapsing—the light fading from her hand as his own flared brighter than it ever had.
The city's laughter followed them home, bright and oblivious.