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The evening sun streamed in through tall windows, casting long shadows over rows of display cases. Precious, jeweled, no-doubt ancient, rare, and magical items gleamed behind the glass. Some were large, some small, and some, outside the cases, were hidden beneath sheets that she peeked under.

Important men—men like Kalahad—always traveled with their trophy collections. They liked to look at them, to remember their exploits and revel in their own self-importance, and they didn’t care about the cost or inconvenience of lugging so much unnecessary junk around.

The corridor dead-ended into a left turn. Outside the windows, Taly could see lavish gardens, all in the height of bloom. The sounds of the party had faded entirely. She guessed she was in one of the farthest corners of the house.

Yet another hallway stretched out before her, filled with even more priceless treasures. Things that belonged in a museum, where everyone could enjoy them. Shadows, long and sinuous in the waning light, stretched across the marble floor.

The items in this area leaned towards the historic. She passed by farming tools, fragments of colorful pottery, utensilsworn down by time—even parchments unfurled and stretched for display.

In the center of the path, in a place of honor, a statue carved from pure alabaster rose to tower over everything else.

Stopping in front of it, Taly stared up into the eyes of Lachesis—the goddess of time herself.

It was unusual to see one of her statues still intact. Most had either been torn down or defaced after the Schism. She was massive—two stories tall, at least. Great, gossamer wings lifted from her back, stretching out and over the room. Gilded horns twisted above lovely, sharp features. Intricate etchings and symbols covered her body. Her outstretched arm held aloft an ornate scepter crowned with a radiant gemstone that pulsed with a faint, ethereal light.

Titans, Azura had called them—taller than the mountains they’d used as thrones. Creatures of flesh and blood once, subject to the same vices and follies as those they created. Standing at the base of the giant stone goddess, Taly could believe it. It was a bleaker picture than the Faerasanna liked to paint, with their perfect gods who rained down perfect love on the unworthy masses. But she preferred it. Or, at least, she was more prone to believe it. If the Fey really were made in the Faera’s image, they were probably a little self-serving.

“You’re off the beaten path,” a male voice said softly.

Taly turned.

At the end of the hall, moonlight glinted off Fey-white hair as Kalahad stepped from the shadows.

A slow chill seeped into the room, thin but unmistakable, like a draft through an unseen crack. The hairs on her arms lifted.

Instinct sent a ripple of unease through her, like a cold fingertip tracing her spine. She was a human alone. That was reason enough to be ready.

Slipping a hand into her skirts, Taly found her dagger’s worn hilt. “I got lost looking for the toilet,” she said with a bat of her lashes. That excuse usually worked. She let her gaze flick over the artifacts surrounding them. “Your collection is quite impressive. You must have a keen love of history.”

“The bits of it that are true, yes.” Kalahad trailed a hand fondly down a row of display cases filled with ancient tablets and parchments. “Protect the remnants of the past, for in them lies the unvarnished truth. Otherwise, the victors sculpt history as they see fit, leaving us doomed to repeat it.”

He stopped in front of her, hands slipping into his pockets. “So. What did you think? And be honest. On a scale of 1 to 10, with the option of going to 11, how delighted were you with your presents? I thought long and hard about what to get you for such a grand homecoming, but then I decided, whyreinventthe wheel? Best to stay with the classics. Blood of thine enemy. It’s always been a personal favorite.”

The masks were off now. His grin stretched from ear to ear. Taly searched his face—his eyes. Fey blue, but beneath them, she could see a familiar spark. A flicker of something distinctlyotherlooking out from behind the glass.

Here in the dark with no other lights competing, she saw not Kalahad, but…

“Bill?”

He flinched like she’d just physically slapped him. “Excuse me?” His expression twisted, offense etched into every line. “Are weseriouslystill clinging to that dreadfully pedestrian moniker?”

Taly shrugged. “Would you prefer… Anie?”

“No.”

“How about Nero?”

A flicker of tension in his jaw. “I would prefer you use my name.”

“Which is?”

“Aneirin,” he enunciated.

“But what about Kalahad? You know, this is getting confusing. I think I’m going to stick with Anie.”

“I thought it was Bill.”

She smirked. “Well, if you insist.”