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“I thought that with age was supposed to come patience.”

“You’re thinking of wisdom, and I have that in spades. Time though… there never seems to be enough of that.”

“But you’re a time mage.”

“Which means I’m uniquely qualified to recognize the dearth.”

Fair enough. The second bloom of heat spread beneath his skin. He clenched his fist, willing his body to accept it, to bind with it the way it was supposed to.

Long minutes passed before he finally said, “I have another question.”

Tapping away on that strange device, she glanced over her shoulder through dark lashes. “Color me shocked.”

“When you took me to see the keeper, it seemed like the two of you had history.”

“Well, I should hope so. It only took me going on a decade to arrange that meeting.”

“What was it you were after?”

“A key,” she said.

“What kind of key?” But she only smiled, so he pressed, “Was it for one of the riftways?”

Her fingers stalled. Skye grinned, victorious. She might not give away answers—or if she did, they only led to more questions. But sometimes, he managed to catch her off guard.

“I see someone has been doing their homework,” Cori said, sliding the device back into her coat. Her heels clicked as she continued to wander. “And to answer your next question as well as a few more: no, I can’t show it to you; no, I can’t tell you why; no, I won’t tell you what it unlocks or where it leads; and, finally no, I’m not all-knowing. You’re just predictable.”

Skye scowled, gritting his teeth against the burn as he depressed the plunger on the third and final syringe. “I find you... annoying.”

She picked up a pair of glassworking tongs and gave them a click, grinning over her shoulder. “Thank you.” She carefully hung the tongs back on the tool rack. “And I know it’s frustrating,” she said. “Believe me, I do. Even time mages don’t like hanging out with each other. But one thing you have to understand is that I’m…meddling. Meaning that every time Itravel, every time I make changes, I risk changing myself—my past, my future.”

“But isn’t that what you’re trying to do?” he asked, dabbing at a drop of blood on his arm with a scrap of gauze. “Why else meddle with the past unless you’re trying to change it?”

Cori shrugged. “Maybe time mages just meddle. Maybe it’s in our nature. MaybeI’mthe product of meddling. Maybe my entire history has become so circular and convoluted that it’s become necessary for me to intervene solely in the interest of my own self-preservation.”

Her sly smile suggested none of those things and all of them at once. He wondered how long it had taken her to master it. If, perhaps, when Taly finally caught up to this version, he might be able to see through that infuriating mask.

“Alright, hotshot,” she said, hopping back up on the table beside him now that the needles were gone. “You’re all juiced up and good to go. Show me I didn’t just greenlight my own downfall by encouraging this.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Skye murmured, flexing his fingers, testing the burn.

The heat started low, curling up his arm, prickling under his skin like an ember flaring to life.

It was just like the precision drills Ivain had made him do—like threading a needle too small to see with his eyes closed.

He felt it in every cell, the essence latching on, stirring in his blood.

When he opened his eyes, he saw it—the shimmer of dark light threading through the veins in his hand, shifting like liquid shadow.

The heat dulled into a low thrum, resonating with his heartbeat.

Now came the part where he still struggled. Ivain called it “the pull.”

And it was just that—apullon his magic.

The strain built, and with it, drops of blood surfaced on his skin.

“Easy,” Cori said. “We don’t need a repeat of yesterday. I’m still trying to get the stains out.”