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You’re a hypocrite.

How many years had it been since Breena spat those words at him?

You think I don’t know what you did?

Ivain knelt on the floor, staring into the old trunk.

The basement vault was dark. He’d only bothered to turn on a single light overhead, knowing exactly where to go in the maze of boxes and trunks, all dusty with age. He had bought the townhouse originally for Sarina and her new husband, but after Madoc died, taken during the Schism, it was mostly used for storage. For pictures and books and old clothes, things they didn’t need but couldn’t force themselves to throw out.

And in a forgotten corner, Ivain had hidden those things he wished he could forget. Notebooks speckled with blood, manuscripts written in his own hand, each one filled with forbidden spells he had refused to relinquish even when the Genesis Council had given the order. It might have been safer to bury them away behind magical seals and locks, but that would have been too conspicuous. It would have only taken one moderately intelligent shadow mage to see the traces of aether and wonder what exactly he was trying to protect.

Better to hide the forbidden in plain sight.

Although, if Breena had ever found these… she’d have never let him live it down.

Because she had been right.

Hewasa hypocrite.

He had warned her against the dangers of bloodcraft, chastised her and turned his back when she had used illegal magic to win a tourney in front of the full assembled Council. And yet when his wife and child had died only a few years prior, he’d convinced himself he could overcome death. That he could take the horrors he had witnessed during the Shade Rebellion and turn them into a force for good.

Thank the Shards Sarina stopped him before he went too far. Both his sisters—they brought him back from the brink, though they hadn’t been able to help him save Breena from herself.

And now here he was again, with another student lured in by the seductive power of bloodcraft. It was pain and passion that compelled one to take these sorts of risks; the folly of those blinded by their own desperation.

Ivain reached into the trunk, already knowing which books he would need.

The humans had a saying: history is doomed to repeat itself.

And he believed that—to an extent.

Breena had beendesperatein her need to prove herself in a family of mages that had already accomplished great things.

And now Skye—he was alsodesperate. To find Taly. To rescue her. His bondmate.

History was doomed to repeat itself. But only if they kept making the same mistakes.

“Come here,” Ivain said, sensing the boy standing at the door to the vault.

Skye stepped further into the light. His expression was carefully blank, and Ivain mourned the trust that had been lost betweenthem. He should have believed him. After everything he’d seen in his too-long life, he should’ve just believed the boy when he said that Taly was still alive. He shouldn’t have been so afraid to embrace that spark of hope.

Ivain rose to his feet, a stack of books in hand. “I saw in your notes that you’ve been dabbling with simulacrums.” He waited for Skye to nod before continuing, “I know they don’t seem dangerous, but they will continue to draw on your aether until you dismiss them, even tapping into your anima. It’s a passive spell, one you must monitor constantly.”

Navigating the stacks of boxes and junk, Ivain made his way to the door, placing a hesitant hand on Skye’s shoulder. He had grown to love all his students in some way, but Skye had been different. So smart but so quiet—when he first came to them, it had taken months to get the boy to open up. To finally understand how his family had kept him sequestered with only nannies and tutors in the place of friends. People who believed that children should remain silent and unseen.

Watching that quiet, lonely boy grow into a man, teaching him, seeing the light he and a little human girl had brought back to a house that had experienced so much death—it had been one of the greatest joys of his life.

And he wasn’t ready for it to be over.

So, he would do better. Be better. This time, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. If this was the path Skye was meant to take, he wouldn’t be traveling it alone.

“Show me what you’ve learned so far,” Ivain said as he pushed Skye towards the door. “We’ll go from there.”

The townhouse armory was on the first underground floor, and it was here that Ivain found himself just before dawn, preparing for the day ahead.

Skye was sleeping. Or should’ve been. Instinct told him the boy was likely still awake, practicing the spells they’d spent the early morning hours rehearsing. He had a natural talent for bloodcraft, and a curiosity to rival even Breena’s. He still needed to learn moderation, but that would come with time.

Ivain scanned the arsenal of steel lining the wall. He couldn’t fault Skye for his restlessness. There was still so much to do before they could mount a proper rescue and very little time to do it. Although, he supposed,timehad suddenly become a very tenuous construct.