Virtually all the glass had been shattered; it covered the floor in a deadly glitter. Tables had been overturned and floor in a deadly glitter. Tables had been overturned and splintered. Books had been ripped to shreds, with the leather and cloth covers gutted and empty, tossed on piles of trash.The whole place smelled foul with spilled chemicals and molding paper.Myrnin said nothing as they descended the steps into the mess, but on the last step, he paused and sat down—more like fell down, actually. Claire wasn’t sure what to do, so she waited.“You okay?” she finally asked. He slowly shook his head.“I’ve lived here a long time,” Myrnin said. “Mostly by choice, as it happens; I’ve always preferred a lab to a palace, which Amelie never really understood, although she humored me. I know it’s only a place, only things. I didn’t expect to feel so much . . . loss.” He was silent again for a moment, and then sighed. “I shall have to rebuild again. But it will be a bother.”“But .
