Publisher's blurb:
The elvish student only half-believed the stories she’d been told until she investigated herself. A secret shop of magical wares that wanders from room to room under the very noses of the deans and professors? It seemed like the sort of story seniors would tell first-years to watch them run around like headless chickens looking for it. Nonetheless, she was a Lorehold mage, and she never left a stone unturned—a principle that brought her all the way to a Witherbloom supply closet in the middle of the night.
Feeling distinctly foolish, the student looked both ways, then turned the doorknob and quickly stepped inside. She expected to knock her nose against brooms and mops; instead, she found herself in a cluttered room lit by floating candles and stuffed with bizarre items. At the far end of the room, a horned woman watched her from behind a counter with bright eyes, her hands folded on the table. “I love first-time customers,” the woman murmured, sending a blush of embarrassment through the student’s cheeks. “That look of delight and confusion is a treasure itself.”