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So, he snapped, “Since when do you care, Kato? If anything, I figured you’d be happy to see me risking my life. With me gone, you go back to being Mom’s favorite.”

“I don’t know. This is weird for me too, okay? But I’m here, aren’t I? And I think you’re making a mistake. Go ahead and throw your life away bonding with a…time mage.” He mouthed the words. “I still think you’re crazy, but whatever. Just don’tactuallythrow your life away, Skye. There are worse things than dying.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve been dealing with you for the past week, remember?”

“Har-fucking-har. I’m serious, Skye.”

“And I don’t need a lecture.”

The air between them stretched, tense and brittle. Finally, Kato held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Forget I said anything.”

“It’s already forgotten,” Skye replied icily. “As always.”

Skye shouldered past Kato, boots scuffing the stone as he stormed across the yard.

Sarina was waiting for him, standing in the gatehouse doorway. Her expression was grave.

“She’s getting worse.”

Chapter 12

Aimee stayed behind to help organize the little kitchenette. The menders and healers were so overworked Aiden barely came home to sleep. If nothing else, she could make sure he had a place to prepare a meal.

She was still stocking shelves when Gilly burst in, flushed and panicked.

One of her uncle’s long-term staff, Gilly had been in service for decades. A housekeeper by trade, though lately she’d taken to running messages and filling gaps wherever needed.

“The rescue party has returned, and the little miss is in a terrible way,” she panted.

Aiden was instantly on his feet, downing the rest of his tea as he grabbed his coat. He turned to clear his dishes.

“I’ll clean up here,” Aimee said. “You go.”

He nodded, kissed her cheek, and disappeared after Gilly into the gray morning.

Just like that, Aimee was alone. She turned back to the counter, adjusting a stack of cups. This time, it wasn’t familial duty that kept her tidying. She was stalling. Even without this latest crisis, Talya had a way of pulling every bit of air out of a room, and she wasn’t ready to suffocate in it yet.

So, she lingered—meticulously rearranging utensils, wiping surfaces that were already spotless. But eventually, there was nothing left to do.

Taking the long way home, she dragged her feet. She tried to feel even a glimmer of what she’d felt before—the rush, the hope, the quiet certainty that she’d been right.

All she got was a vague sense of nausea.

Back at the townhouse, the staff was up now. The kitchen bustled with activity as people rushed about, working with a sense of urgency that went beyond the usual morning preparations.

“What’s going on?” Aimee asked.

Gilly, now overseeing a simmering pot, barely glanced up. “The rescue party returned, ma’am. The little miss is—”

“In a terrible way,” Aimee finished. “Yes, I heard.”

She’d expected them to be done by now. Expected breakfast.

Instead, the kitchen reeked of bitter herbs—like the brews her mother used to make for Cori’s coughing fits.

For a moment, she was back in Picolo. Cori was upstairs, her mother was hunched over a stove, muttering about stubborn lungs, and the world was right again.

Aimee shoved the thought down hard. She was imagining things.