Page 95

“This is notyourtime,” she said carefully. “This ismytime. I’ve been coming here every morning for weeks.”

And she needed it—this time, this quiet. She needed the routine.

The routine was her sanctuary, a methodical step-by-step guide through her day that provided structure and kept despair from taking hold.

“I’ve been coming here since I was ten,” Talya countered. “That gives me seniority.”

Anger flared, hot and sharp. That’s how it always was with Talya, wasn’t it? She didn’t ask. She never needed to. Everyone just… made way, like she was owed the space.

Aimee stepped forward, chin lifted. “You might want to check your birth order before throwing around words like seniority,cousin.”

The word landed heavy. Not an olive branch—ammunition.

“But that’s okay,” Aimee went on. “You’re new to the family. No one told you how the hierarchy works. The music staysoff. Don’t make me say it again.”

She smiled—sweet, polished, and full of poison—then turned on her heel to go.

She’d barely made it halfway to the stairs when the music clicked back on.

A growl ripped out of her. She’d warned her.

Aimee raised her hand. Focused. Her magic surged, gathering at her fingertips like the pull before a wave breaks.

With a flick of her wrist, water stretched upward in a whisper-thin line, fast and surgical. It struck the speaker dead center.

The result was instant.

The speaker shrieked. Sparks jumped from the grille. A burst of static cracked the air.

Aimee watched the damage bloom, then turned to find Talya’s gaze.

“Oops.”

Talya only lifted a brow.

“You were given a choice,” Aimee said. “You made the wrong one.”

She turned her back, satisfaction curving at the corner of her mouth.

Then the static returned—but wrong. Not an echo. A…reversal. Each hiss and spark unspooled, collapsing inward like bubbles unpopping.

Aimee whirled, eyes going wide. The sparks slid back into the wiring. The metal hissed as it sealed. The scorch marks vanished as smoke curled inward.

When it was done, the speaker stood untouched.

Aimee stared. Her breath caught. She’d never seen time magic before. It was… unnatural.

“You can keep your family hierarchies,” Talya said, settling the bar onto her shoulders and leaning against it, gaze level. “This is a training hall. And since you seem to have missed the orientation, let me break down the rules for you. Rule #1: Skye is not allowed in the room before lunch because he does nothing but nitpick your squat form and complain about the volume of the music. Rule #2: quiet hours start at 2bells, so come backthen for yourprecious silence. Rule #3: clean up after yourself. That one’s obvious. And then, most importantly, Rule #4: all rule changes must be passed by amajority vote. So, until you can pull together a meeting to revise the official quiet hours, I’ll be listening to my music at whatever volume I want.”

Then she clicked the remote. The music roared back to life.

Aimee’s chest heaved. Magic flickered blue around her in sharp, blue pulses. She tried to rein it back—to push it down, bury the heat rising in her throat. Men could get away with anger. She didn’t have the privilege.

“I’ll fight you for it!”

Talya turned down the volume. Just like Cori, she couldn’t resist a challenge.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that? I saw your water whip. Calcifer’s morning piss packs more of a punch.”