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Taly stared at the notebook for a moment. She pulled it toward her, flipping through the pages, running her fingers over the neat lines of cursive scrawl. This was her great-grandmother’s. Another time mage, reaching across decades.

A spark of defiance flared inside her, tiny but searing, fed by the one person she’d never expected to fan the flames.

Snatching up the notebook, she slid off the piano. Upstairs, she flipped off the dreamspindle hanging over her bed as she stalked to her vanity. The drawer screeched as she yanked it open, fingers shoving past useless trinkets. Then—there. She snatched it up and slammed the drawer shut.

“I’m a time mage,” she said to her reflection, eyes sharp with purpose. “Scrying is what I do.”

Skye and Ivain—what they called protection, she called a cage. It didn’t matter if the bars were kindness and care, she wasn’t staying behind them.

The faint chime of bells echoed as she held up the bracelet Leto had gifted her. She didn’t know how this worked, but she gave it a shot anyway. “Anyone there?” she said to the room, giving the bracelet a little shake when nothing happened. “C’mon, Leto didn’t give me instructions for this thing.”

“We didn’t expect you to call so soon,” came a chiming voice from behind her.

Taly whirled to find two faintly glowing blue orbs hovering in the room, their light casting dancing shadows on the walls.

“Speak for yourself,” said the second voice, lighter and amused. “There’s a betting pool going around. I won.”

Taly rolled her eyes. She’d missed some of the Feyries—not all of them. “I want to see Azura.”

The orbs shimmered, and their soft laughter filled the room like the ringing of bells.

“Suit yourself,” said the first one. “Though, fair warning, she’s in a mood.”

It was the same—the same shining halls, overwhelming splendor, and balmy heat.

Taly never thought she’d willingly set foot here again, but when the Feyries opened a portal through her closet, she’d stepped through it without hesitation. Now, her palms were slick, her breath a little too shallow as she traced the familiar route to the garden. Every step pressed on old memories, the kind she’d rather leave buried.

Was she having second thoughts? Absolutely. Did she find it ironic that, to free herself from cages, she had to walk straight back into the first one? Without a doubt. The Universe could go to hell with its poetic irony. But she kept moving forward, refusing to let her feet hesitate.

Azura was taking her tea in the hedge maze. A wide-brimmed hat shaded her dark hair and glowing golden eyes, her poise as flawless as the pristine porcelain cup in her hand. When she saw Taly, her red lips curved into a smile. “Well, this is the last thing I was expecting today. Taly. Things feel… rearranged lately, don’t they? Almost as if someone’s been tidying theWeave without asking permission. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Taly didn’t return the greeting. Or the smile. She didn’t waste time answering questions that didn’t make sense. Her footsteps crunched on the gravel path until she stopped in front of the low table, heaped high with cakes and delicate pastries. The air smelled of roses and lemon zest, sweet enough to choke on.

Behind the Queen, Leto’s light pulsed softly. She merely inclined her head in greeting.

Taly squared her shoulders, forcing the words out before her nerves could waver. Per Sarina’s advice, she’d decided to remove the obstacle. “I need you to tell me how to kill a grimble.”

Something unexpected flickered across Azura’s face—surprise.

The Queen set her teacup down with a soft, rattling clink. “Come again?” she said hoarsely.

Chapter 46

Skye did what had to be done. He wasn’t sorry.

If Taly wasn’t going to speak to him—fine. He still wasn’t taking down the dreamspindle. Or the backups. Or the backup backups. He’d rather she hate him and wake up safe than die loving him.

It was romantic, really. The kind of thing people wrote poems about. One day, she’d see that. Hopefully.

In the meantime, he had plenty keep him busy—tasks that, coincidentally, all involved keeping her alive.

The workshop door was closed tight against the cold draft and prying eyes. Sweating beneath the work lamps, Skye had his arm braced in front of him and his sleeve rolled up. The needle in his hand glinted, the violet liquid within shimmering like captured starlight.

He angled it toward the vein in his forearm, the cool metal brushing his skin.

“That’s disgusting,” Cori said, nose wrinkling as she crossed her arms. She was as far away as possible without physically leaving the room. “I mean, I get that it’s useful, but… ew.”

Skye wished someone would’ve warned him that mating with a time mage meant putting up with all the other versions. Cori had shown up one morning, making it clear that she hadn’t forgiven him yet for conspiring with his other-self—it was amazing, truly, how he managed to piss off this woman in every timeline. But she’d also made her position clear: now that they were doing this, they’d better do it right.