Page 206

Taly nodded at the rows of vials and carefully labeled wire baskets on the shelves behind her. She’d spent most of her first week organizing supplies. “Pain potion, fever sip, and sleep tonic—all brewed fresh. The wyrmwood broth is already spoken for, but I have two more batches that should be ready soon.”

“Good. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. You’re the most popular brewmaster we’ve had so far,” he said and shrugged off his healing smock before tossing it into one of the newly-labeled bins along the wall of the tent. “Also, here, I found you a mask.”

The device consisted of a domed air crystal with a metal backing, no bigger than a pushpin. An air mask. Attaching behind the ear, it generated enough magic to create a thin veil of air that covered the nose and mouth.

“Now you can deliver potions to where they need to be, and I can stop playing errand boy.”

Eyeing the blue-ish color of the liquid, Taly added a dusting of black salt, then a pinch of red. “If it makes you feel any better, you were the best errand boy.” He gave her a look. “A little reluctant and mouthy, but I’ll still put in a good word with management.”

“You’re too kind.” Aiden stood in front of the table. “So, I’ve got another one for you.”

“Okay,” Taly said, stirring. Since learning they were blood relatives, Aiden had been on a mission to jog her memory.

“When we were little,” he said, holding up his hand so she could see the skin beginning to darken, “all I wanted was to be called Oak. I thought it sounded strong, like I wanted to be.”

A creeping wave of bark surfaced on his skin, spreading across his knuckles in jagged, textured patterns.

“However, it never quite caught on,” he continued, “because you decided Petal was better, and it stuck.”

A bud appeared at the tip of his index finger, blooming into a vibrant yellow flower. He grinned and held it out for her to pluck.

Taly took the flower, turning it over in her fingers. She studied it like it might unlock the part of her mind that refused to remember. But the answers weren’t there—only the faintest flicker of longing for something she couldn’t name.

“I’m sorry, no,” she said. “I… I don’t remember.”

Aiden’s sigh was quiet, but the disappointment in his eyes was harder to hide. “It’ll come,” he said, but the truth hung between them, unspoken but clear.

The reasons memory magic wasn’t used on children were well known. Their minds were too fragile, too ready to accept lies as truth—or to accept the absence of memory as if it had always been that way.

“I’ll keep trying,” Aiden said.

Taly gave him a faint smile. “Of course you will. Stubborn as a root. You’d make a great tree, Oak.”

He pressed a hand to his heart, tilting his head back with a sigh. “Ah, there it is. Sweet, sweet validation.”

Taly smirked, giving a little flourish with her spoon as if to say,you’re welcome. It was the least she could do, considering she’d made fugitives of them all.

She tried not to think about it—everything she’d taken from them. Everything she couldn’t undo. Even if she weren’t such a shitty time mage, she couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t bring their father back. And as she’d been told repeatedly, she wasn’t allowed to judge what others considered worthy of sacrifice, misguided as they were.

With a final tap of his knuckles to the table, Aiden rose, moving to the shelves where he began pulling supplies. The stiff white cuffs of his shirt were clean. There was no blood beneath his fingernails. His boots were spotless, like his magic had somehow repelled the mud and muck.

Neat, tidy, quintessential Aiden. However, it did nothing to hide the fact that he was exhausted.

“Sarina came by with lunch,” she said and eyed the two baskets resting on the edge of the table. Hers was empty, the napkins inside folded to make a bed for Calcifer. He’d taken the shape of a small kitten, sprawled on his back with one leg occasionally kicking.

Aiden glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll eat later.”

Taly frowned. “You said that about breakfast too. Aiden, you’re no good to these people if you collapse.”

His face was turned away, but she could feel him rolling his eyes. “You sound like my sister.”

“Well, I guess Aimee and I agree then. You’re working too hard.”

Aiden stopped. Then slowly turned, brows lifting.

Taly rapped the side of the cauldron with her spoon. It was the best way to tell if it was done. “What?”

“You really need to stop doing that.”