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He shrugged. “Why couldn’t you have just, I don’t know,toldme what was going on? That you were clearly still alive? Hell, you could have led me straight to you– or her– or… you know what I’m trying to say.” The pronouns were making it hard to stay angry. “I thought I was going crazy.”

Not-Taly sighed, rubbing the space between her eyes. “Time is… delicate. Too much meddling and reality fractures. Too little, and everything goes to shit. My job is to find balance. Figure out the right words, which variables to alter, who needs to benudged.”

“So, that’s what that was then? A nudge?”

“Exactly.”

Skye let that sit for a moment. “That’s convenient. For you,” he said. “For me? Not so much. Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you’ll only tell me shit when it suits you.”

“Now you’re getting it,” she said, and halted. The wind stirred the grass, a restless murmur in the silence as she turned to face him.

Standing close. Too close.

He didn’t know the rules here. This was Taly, after all. But it also wasn’t her. Except it was. Just older. Wiser. With that same jasmine and sage scent. He couldn’t help the way his body responded.

She searched his face. “I knew we were early but… this is your first time, isn’t it?” Her smile was a slow draw of mischief and intent. “Skye, are we popping your time travel cherry?”

A human euphemism, no doubt—Taly liked to collect them. He could infer the meaning.

Her hands smoothed across his chest, warm and familiar. She leaned in, head tilted, as if listening for the beat his heart.

“If this is your way of distracting me from all the many reasons I have to be angry at you right now, it’s not working.” His voice remained steady. Mostly.

Her mouth quirked. He had the thrill of feeling her body slide against his as she went to her toes to whisper, her breath hot against his ear. His Taly wasn’t quite this bold, at least… not yet.

“I always liked you in this decade. You’re just so cute and earnest.”

Then she stepped away. He felt the loss of her warmth immediately.

Around them, the world short-circuited. Grassland vanished. Cobblestones materialized beneath his boots, a road cutting through a dense forest.

This, at least, Skye recognized. Everything else that had just happened was a question mark, but this—somehow, they were now standing on one of the handful of paved highways that crisscrossed the island.

“First things first,” she said and started down the highway, clearly intending for him to follow. “I'm not Taly anymore—she’s a part of my past, and so is that name. I’m Corinna. Cori, if you’re so inclined.”

So, Taly took her father’s name eventually. Interesting. He filed that away.

Down the road, something small and black darted closer, vaulting from branch to branch over the highway. It had no form, was more just a haze that seemed to phase in and out, like it was dipping between the threads of reality.

Skye’s hand twitched for his dagger, but Cori stayed him. She’d already seen the speck and didn’t seem worried. Only held out a hand, waiting as that single point of blurred motion came closer, beginning to solidify, shrinking in on itself—

A little black monkey approximately the size of a large apple landed on her outstretched palm.

“Is that…?” Skye asked. The monkey turned, staring him down with unnervingly blue eyes filled with bloodlust and malice.

Yes. Yes, it was.

Cori scratched beneath the little monkey’s chin. His leg began to shake. “You remember Calcifer.”

The transformation was perfect, from the half-moon ears that laid flat against his head to the lines of gold around his eyes and ringing his long, fluffy tail.

“Calcifer, look,” Cori cooed. “Recognize him?”

She pointed. The mimic shrieked, flashing needle-like teeth.

That was a yes.

“So, I take it, Calcifer and I never…”