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“Not your entire life,” Aiden countered hesitantly. “As I recall, she was just some unknown child Ivain took in after the Sanctorum destroyed an entire village. She had no family, no past, no memories. Under those circumstances, I’dsay it’s very possible there might be things about this girl you never knew. Thingsshenever knew.”

Skye’s heart may have actually stopped beating at that point. It was true. They had known very little about Taly when Ivain decided to take her in. The trauma of the fire had wiped away most of her memories—she’d barely been able to give them a name. Truthfully, they weren’t even sure how old she was. Sarina had assumed she was closer to four years of age based on her size. Ivain had insisted she was too smart to be that young. The healers had finally told them she was probably closer to six.

The only thing they had known for sure was that she was human. She had human features, human traits. She had iron in her blood, and when she reached maturity, she had bled on a standard human cycle. It was unheard of for a fey female to bleed 12 times a year, but...

Skye’s mind began to race, trying to assimilate this new set of facts. What had Kato said? He had found shadow magic, a water glamour?

And if he assumed she was fey, enough to give her an immunity to faeflower…

A simple memory alteration spell could account for the amnesia. And aether suppression spells could’ve dampened her magic. A desecration rite would alter basic aether metabolism, and there were even enchantments he had stumbled upon over the past few days that could be used to alter bodily functions and physiology.

It wouldn’t have been an easy task to turn a fey mortal—even temporarily—and it would have required an exceptionally powerful shadow mage as well as someone adept with water magic. But itwaspossible. The Genesis Council had done something similar when they still sent their prisoners to the mortal realm to live and die. And back during the Hunt, the Sanctorum had even…

Skye’s stomach dropped as the realization began to set in. The question that still stood out waswhy. Why go to such lengths to hide a fey child? Why take away their magic? Why make them appear mortal?

The answer, unfortunately, was starting to become clear.

“You mentioned magic.” Skye had to fight to keep his voice steady. “What kind?”

Aiden’s throat bobbed, and his breathing hitched. His pulse beat out an unsteady rhythm.

That was answer enough.

“Tell me,” Skye demanded. He needed to hear the words. “You took care of her while she was sick. You had to have seen something. What kind of magic did she have?”

Sighing, Aiden checked the air ward, fiddling with the small sheet of metal. Satisfied that they wouldn’t be overheard, he said softly, “What kind of magic would make someone panic? What kind of magic would make someone fear not only for themselves but those around them? What kind of magic might warrant a complex web of aether suppression spells and a high-level glamour strong enough to endure 15 years with minimal degradation?”

Skye closed his eyes, a random memory trickling through his thoughts. When he was still a child, he had taken the new sketchpad and set of charcoals Sarina had given him for his birthday and climbed the tallest tree in the orchards located at the southeastern edge of the manor grounds. Hehad been so intent on capturing the way the light glinted off the snow-blasted peaks of the Avondale Mountains in the distance that he hadn’t noticed when the tree beneath him began to groan, too thin to support his weight. It was almost twenty feet to the ground, and he had landed flat on his back.

He had cracked a few ribs, likely broken open his skull. It had hurt. A lot. But what he remembered most vividly was lying there, the air knocked out of him, completely stunned and unable to move.

That’s how he felt now, sitting there, staring at Aiden and trying to remember how to breathe.

Taly… was a time mage.

And fey.

And a time mage.

And fey.

And… a lot of things suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense.

Like why Taly had suddenly decided she needed to cut ties with her old life. Or how she had nearly bested him in the sparring ring only a few short weeks ago. Why the harpy had gone for her—amortal—when there were three other mages nearby.

And perhaps most importantly, how she had known about the guard rotation. And the tunnels. And the attack that would’ve inevitably ensued if they hadn’t known to reinforce their defenses. She was a time mage. She could see the future. So, those dreams he’d been having, the ones that told him things he couldn’t have known—those weren’thisdreams. They were hers, and he had just somehow… stumbled into them.

Somehowbeing the operative word. But that was a question for another time.

“You knew.” Skye’s eyes instinctively darted around the room, noting every face, both familiar and foreign. He was angry now. A hot fire began simmering in his chest, growing, expanding, waiting to explode. “You knew the reason Taly left last year; you knew that she hadtimemagic. You knew how much danger that put her in, but you didn’t fucking say anything?”

“Skye,” Aiden said very, very carefully. He looked scared now. “I had to pry it out of her, and even then, she didn’t want to tell me. All I know is that she was having visions—she described them as afterimages showing her events just a few seconds into the future—and that she left the manor last year after they started to manifest.”

Skye felt the world tilt, and he placed both hands flat on the table, trying to find his bearings. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I promised her I wouldn’t.”

“No.” Skye shook his head. “No, that’s not good enough.” Not for a secret like this.