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She wasn’t Cori. She’d never wanted tobeCori. That’s what everyone kept failing to grasp. Cori was dead, and Taly was… something else. Something broken, something incomplete, something that constantly fell short.

Later that day, Taly was in the music room, sprawled across the piano, one foot dangling, staring blankly at the ceiling when the door creaked open.

“You know, most people use pianos for playing music, not sulking,” Sarina said, soft and teasing. She leaned against the doorframe, her fiery hair catching what little light the room offered.

“I’m not sulking,” Taly muttered, foot swinging back and forth. She just had an hour to go until she could leave for the healing park to get there half an hour early.

Sarina stepped into the room. A flick of her wrist had the fire leaping back to life in the mantle, casting a warm, flicker glow across the room. “I know you’re generally allergic to expressions of concern, but I can’t help but think you don’t seem quite yourself.”

Taly scowled at the ceiling, the intricate plasterwork a blur of meaningless patterns. “So, what? I’m not allowed to have a bad day?”

Sarina held up a hand, a gesture of peace. “I said nothing of the sort. I just haven’t seen you tear apart my basement since the butcher boy incident. And even then, you didn’t abandon it halfway through.”

Taly’s leg stopped swinging. She tilted her head back, eyeing Sarina upside down. “Wait, you know about Ren?”

Sarina’s smile was feline. “Did you really think I didn’t know about something that happened onmyisland?”

Taly huffed.Fair point. “Does Ivain know?”

Sarina shuddered and shook her head. “OhShards, no. If the boy’s parents hadn’t reacted the way they did, maybe. But you don’t get to choose your family. No need to heap injury on top of insult.”

Sarina looked at her, expression softening. “What’s going on? Is it Skye? Is he behaving?”

Taly rubbed her eyes tiredly, pushing herself up to sit. “No. He’s fine. Annoying and worked up, but I’m handling it.”

Mostly by pretending he didn’t exist. If she gave him nothing to react to, he couldn’t spin it into another excuse to dictate what she could or couldn’t do.

“Then why is my basement in shambles?” Sarina prodded gently.

Taly sighed. “Do I really need to say it?”

Sarina shrugged and leaned against the piano, draping her arms across the surface. “You do if you want me to help you. Otherwise, Ivain might accuse me of putting ideas in your head.”

Taly gave her a long, considering look. “I want to scry. It’s the only weapon we have against Bill. The only way to stay ahead of him, to force his hand instead of waiting for him to move first.”

Sarina tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. “Then why aren’t you?”

Taly scoffed. “Because Ivain said I couldn’t, and you agreed with him.”

“And since when have you ever obeyed every little thing we say?”

Taly just stared at her. First, she was too reckless, and now she was too obedient? Why couldn’t these people make up their damn minds?

“And you’re right,” Sarina went on. “I do agree with my brother that the danger is higher now. The grimble will come for you again if you give it a chance. But that doesn’t mean I agree with his methodology. Men are emotional creatures. They never allow themselves to express anything, so those instincts get mistaken for logic.”

Taly frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that what he and Skye are asking is unfair. No one tells me to stop using my fire because it might burn me. And Skye? How many bones has he absolutelyshatteredover the years? Ivain never held him back. Because we’re Fey. Our magic isn’t just what we do—it’s who we are. And it’s the same with you and your magic. Denying it is denyingyou.”

Taly blinked at her. Once. Twice. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Sarina?” That earned a laugh, low and warm. “I’m serious. You banned cigars from the house because you read humans were sensitive to smoke.”

“No, I banned them because humans who inhale smoke are more likely to develop malignant tumors in their lungs, and I wasn’t going to risk losing any of our already limited years with you over something so preventable. But you’re not human anymore. And that means we have to adapt—all of us. As much as I disagree with her methods, I can’t argue that Azura prepared you well.”

Sarina reached out, brushing a thumb gently against her cheek. “You didn’t endure all that you did just to let those hard-won skills stagnate because of an overabundance of caution. I won’t stand for it. If you want to scry, approach it like any other problem. Find the obstacle and remove it.”

She placed a tattered notebook on the piano between them. “I was sorting through the mess you left for me in the basement and found some of Tess’s old notes. She hunted Eldritch. The pages on grimbles are, unfortunately, waterlogged, but you’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure out way to fill in the blanks.”

Sarina turned to leave, her boots tapping softly against the floor. When the door clicked shut, the room fell silent, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire.