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The metal box landed on the counter with a faint, metallic thud, shedding sand and fragments of barnacles that scattered across the surface. It would’ve been utterly unremarkable if not for the Time crest etched into the top.

“This belonged to Azura.” She traced the edges of the crescent moon. “This is her seal.”

“Wait,” Skye said.

Taly paused. “Are you saying youdon’twant me to open it?”

“Yes. I mean—no, that’s not what I’m saying.” She knew about her other-self by now, but he still grappled for the right words to explain. “I thinkyoubrought that here.”

Her brows pulled together. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

“No—I meanother-you.” He knew now not to say Cori’s name unless pissing Taly off was the point. “You sent Calcifer to fetch it from the ocean. The last time I saw that box, it was hanging from his mouth.”

“Well, now I’m even more curious.” Taly flipped back the lid. The hinges groaned. Her eyes lit up as they lifted to his. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

Her grin was so wide it took her a moment to find her voice. “I’ve suspected for a while now that Grizzlethorn wasn’tBill’s only supplier. For something as rare and obscure as the riftway keys, he wouldn’t rely on a single set of eyes. He’d need a network, people with access to forgotten relics who would know what they were looking at. It’s why these dusty, little junk shops keep popping up when I scry.”

She turned the box around. “Look.”

Inside, four slots were carved into the velvet, cradling what, to the untrained eye, might have passed as amulets. Skye, of course, knew better by now. Each was a different shape—one jagged like a lightning bolt, another curved like a scythe. Yet they all shared a material consistency: at their core lay a shard of shadow crystal, dark and opaque, and encircling it, a clear ring of hyaline.

A sharpbangechoed through the ceiling.

Skye’s hand shot out, his fingers splayed in silent command. Taly didn’t hesitate. She snatched the box from the counter and pivoted around the corner. He grabbed her hand when she was near enough, pulling her behind him—putting himself between her and whatever was cursing and stumbling down the stairwell.

The woman who appeared was Lowborn, dressed for bed with a faded robe cinched tight over her nightgown. Her face was pale and worn, strands of auburn hair slipping loose from the curlers perched at odd angles on her head.

She gave them a single glance. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, limping stiffly forward. “As if this night didn’t already have its difficulties…”

Reaching the counter, she braced a hand, clearly favoring her right leg. “Store’s closed.”

“There’s a man dead in the alley outside,” Skye said. “We saw him come from this shop.”

“And why’re you telling me?” she snapped.

“In case you know him.”

“Bah.” The woman waved off the suggestion and ducked behind the counter. She began to rummage, grumbling to herself, slamming drawers, lifting boxes—searching like someone who didn’t have time to waste.

When she straightened, her eyes swept over the room—then narrowed. “Store’s closed,” she repeated, sharper this time.

Taly stepped out from behind him, holding up the box. “We’ll go, but I’d like to purchase this first.”

The woman’s gaze locked onto it. “So, that’s where that got off to.” Her mouth tightened. “It’s not for sale.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want for it.”

“That’s being held for another client.” The woman jerked her hand, all impatience and expectation. “Give it here.”

“Taly, let me handle this,” Skye said, stepping between them. It was an unfortunate reality of their world that humans were not always seen as legitimate buyers. “If it’s a matter of price—”

“It’s not a matter of price. It’s a matter of customer loyalty. Now give it—”

“You know what, it’s fine,” Taly said.

Skye blinked. She blinked back, moving around him.