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And here she was again.

Taly was Bilal. And Bilal was Taly. And even sitting right in front of him, he still couldn’t quite get his head around it.

“You…” he tried. “You altered my memory.”

“Blurred,” she corrected, as if that made any difference. “Your memories are the same. I just… clouded the specifics of my face.” And her voice, her scent, and a thousand other little details.

“We fought together,” he said. “Killedtogether.”

She shrugged with the kind of nonchalance only a time mage could pull off. “Yes, and yes.”

Ivain leaned over the desk, fingers forking through his hair. His foot bounced out a relentless rhythm. “You were the one that dragged me into bounty hunting. You… It was your idea to be pirates!”

“And that was the best six months of your life.”

Ivain opened his mouth… and then closed it. She had him there. “You used to drag me out of brothels,” he said with no small amount of horror. “I… I tried to kiss you.”

She nodded, grimacing. Not quite making eye contact. “I’m sure you can see now why that was so traumatizing for me.”

Traumatizing? Well, that was one word for it, he supposed. She’d let out the most nervous, shrill laugh—more akin to an existential scream—and then promptly vomited on his shoes. It had been a tremendous blow to his ego at the time, though now he was getting a similar feeling.

Hands shaking, Ivain reached for his drink, downed it, and immediately poured another. The bottle refilled, and an airy, high-pitched laugh stuttered out of him. He remembered that trick. It had gotten them out of a particularly sticky situation with a prominent Fey Lord and the painting they’d been caught trying to steal.

Yes, he and Bilal also had a stint as art thieves. She really was a bad influence. Though he raised her, so maybe the problem was him? Shards only knew he’d undoubtedly come up with plenty of their bad ideas himself.

How many needlessly dangerous situations had he put her in? How careless…recklesseven… had he been with her life?

“What… what are you doing here? Taly—”

“My name isn’t Taly.”

Ivain’s brows rose at the edge in her voice.

She shrugged and said, “Call me Cori, if you must. But not Taly. I left that name behind.”

No humor in her eyes, no mischief. Nothing but pain, more than any one person should ever have to carry.

She blinked, and it was gone.

“What are you doing here?” he asked again.

“Easy,” Cori said with a sip of brandy. “I got your message. Bold move, by the way, sending a Bodach. Scared the shit out of me when he popped into my bedroom, all wrinkly and dead-looking. Which, if it comes up, is why he’s missing a certain piece of his anatomy.”

Ivain stared at her.

“Don’t worry, it’ll grow back. Probably.”

“That’s not…” He shook his head. “I mean, what are you—you—doing here? In your past?”

The smile she gave him was far too cutting. It didn’t belong on his daughter’s face. “Do I really need to explain Weave walking, old friend? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Don’t,” he growled. “I know you, and I know this tactic. Deflect, distract, and if that doesn’t work,goad.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he got the feeling it had been a very long time since anyone had challenged her.

“This is parallel contact. Your past is sleeping right upstairs.”

“It’s cute you think she’s sleeping.”