Page 17 of Acolyte (Tempris #2)

- An excerpt from On Time: Unraveling the Mystery

The time mage is an inherent contradiction. They exist both within and outside the natural order; they are both the weavers and the thread. Objectively weaker than any other class of mage with seemingly no offensive capabilities—a single time mage can shape a nation.

Taly leaned farther back in her chair, watching the slow creep of dawn edge across the floor.

Rows upon rows of books lined the walls of the small tower library, and every so often, a gust of wind would rattle the strips of leaded windows set into the walls high above.

In the next room, the terrace door stood open, letting in the scent of rain .

It rained every morning before dawn for approximately seven minutes—a typical summer storm that rolled in without warning and disappeared just as suddenly.

Taly knew this because after spending two weeks in a place doomed to replay the same day over and over again, she’d cataloged every sunrise and sunset, every drop of rain.

She’d even timed the explosions that would start at the end of every day, using what she knew of the island to match them to the individual gates.

An ambitious undertaking, but there hadn’t been much else to do.

Taly hadn’t seen or spoken to the Queen since that day in the Water Maze, and the fairies kept their distance.

She might’ve thought she’d been forgotten entirely if it weren’t for the assignments Leto delivered every morning with breakfast—books and papers that Taly was to have read and analyzed before her first lesson.

Not that anyone had told her just when that was going to be. That would’ve required talking to her, maybe answering a question or two. And really, the not knowing was the point, she had decided. It wouldn’t be proper psychological warfare if the prisoner knew when their purgatory would end.

Biting back a yawn, Taly swung her bare feet off the surface of the heavy oaken desk.

Her nightgown twisted between her legs, and she tugged at the fabric as she gracelessly lurched out of her seat and began to pace.

The white marble tile was comfortably warm beneath her feet—heated by magic, no doubt—and as she finished the familiar circuit only to begin again, she eyed the bed peeking through the arched doorway longingly, sighing at the mess of blankets piled on the floor.

She’d had another nightmare. Just one of many since she’d come to the palace. Sometimes she woke up sobbing, sometimes screaming, usually both. Every night, she watched Skye die in some new horrible way, and every night, there was nothing she could do to save him.

The dreams were so real, so full of blood and rot and death.

Last night, she’d barely made it to the washroom before she began to retch. There had been no going back to sleep after that.

Taly drew in a long breath, then released it as she circled back around to her desk, picking a random book from the stack sitting on the corner. Her latest assignment, delivered by Leto the previous day.

“Aether Mechanics,” Taly read aloud, running a finger across the silvered letters stamped into the spine. Snorting, she tossed it aside. She’d read all three volumes before she turned ten.

Selecting another book, she flipped through the pages, and then tossed it back onto the pile. She picked another, scowling when she saw the title.

Every book she’d been given so far was part of the first seal curriculum, and that made sense, she supposed.

The study of magic required a basic understanding of aether, and the first seal examination was little more than a demonstration of that knowledge.

Every magical guild was structured this way, and they all used the same standardized testing format to initiate new mages.

Still, Taly couldn’t help her frustration when Leto kept delivering books like Introduction to Aether along with silly little block games that were obviously meant for children.

She’d grown up with shadow mages for Shards’ sake, and taken the same courses as Skye, who was already a solid decade ahead of his peers.

She knew more about aether than most Highborn mages would learn in a lifetime and had told Leto as much, though it never seemed to do any good.

Leto arrived with the same books and papers and stupid games every morning, and absolutely no word from the Queen.

At this rate, Taly would be old and gray before she ever got to go home. Although, as a fey, she supposed she would neither look old nor gray even when she was thousands of years old. This new body would never age, never change despite a countless number of mortal lifetimes passing.

Considering the circumstances, that didn’t make her feel better.

A door groaned and snicked shut.

Metal clinked, and Taly’s stomach gave an embarrassingly loud growl as the scent of food drifted into the darkened study.

“Mistress?”

“I’m up,” Taly called, already moving from her study to the library and through the bedroom, towards the dining room on the other side.

Her prison cell was spacious. At least she had that going for her.

“And for the last time, Leto—it’s not My Lady, or Madam, or even Mistress. It’s Taly. Just Taly.”

Leto hovered in front of a small round table already laden with food. Eggs, bacon, batter cakes, even porridge—it would all be delicious and perfectly prepared by the fairies that haunted the kitchen. Since spirits didn’t eat, Taly wondered just how they still managed to get the taste right .

“Of course,” Leto conceded, ripples of star-kissed mist swirling around her ethereal form. She pulled out a chair. “If it pleases you— Ma’am .”

Taly sighed and dropped into the chair, not sure why she still bothered.

There were more books and more papers stacked beside her plate—all first seal literature.

Some of them repeats of things she’d already received.

It seemed the Queen couldn’t even bother now to check the things she was sending.

“Is this how it’s going to be, Leto?” she asked, picking up a paperback journal from the top of the stack.

There were two identical copies sitting on her study desk.

“I get shoved into a room with no one to talk to and a bunch of books I’ve already read—is that really the Queen’s idea of training? ”

“Everyone starts with the basics, Ma’am.”

“I know my basics. Something I would gladly tell Her Royal Pain-in-my-ass if she ever deigned to talk to me. Why is she wasting my time, Leto?”

“All initiates—” Leto began.

“ Don’t ,” Taly snapped. “Don’t give me another bullshit excuse.

I’ve known enough fey to understand just how much they like fucking with those they see as smaller and weaker, so for the love of the Shards, just tell me what the hell is going on.

What kind of game is she playing? Why keep me here under the guise of training if she’s not going to train me? ”

“I cannot say, Ma’am.” She never could. Leto did work for the Queen, after all.

With a sigh, Taly reached for the cup of coffee steaming beside her plate. It was bitter and strong, too harsh for a fey palate. But she drank it anyway. There were some things from her human life she simply wasn’t willing to give up .

Leto was already preparing to go. She never stayed for very long. “Is there anything you would like me to tell the Queen today? I would be happy to relay another message.”

Taly took the smallest sip of coffee she could manage, wincing at the taste. “No,” she said after a moment. She’d already tried sending messages and notes. They never did a damned thing.

Two more days passed.

Taly ate her meals alone.

She went to sleep alone.

She woke up screaming and sobbing Skye’s name in the dark alone.

Leto continued to deliver the same books and papers with every meal.

On and on, each day was exactly the same, until one morning, Leto arrived with no more books and no more papers.

But instead a formal summons from the Queen.

Taly huffed as she paced around the spacious study for what seemed like the hundredth time. After Leto had shown her to the room where her lessons were to be held, she’d been left to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

With nothing else to do, she’d already completed the test booklet she’d found on a long table. What she assumed was her first seal examination.

She’d even had time to go back and check her answers.

Twice.

And after another hour of waiting and pacing and flipping through the various stacks of paper and discarded books decorating the many shelves and tabletops scattered about the room, any anticipation she might have felt about finally meeting with the Queen a second time had given way to frustration.

It was a power play. Taly knew it, though it did little to calm her rising anger. The Queen wanted her to know just how small and insignificant she really was. That was no doubt why she had waited more than two weeks to call for her. Why she still continued to keep her waiting.

Hands clasped behind her back, Taly wove between the now intimately familiar stone columns and dark leather and mahogany furniture, the silk rugs muffling the sound of her footsteps.

The long coattails swishing around her knees caught on the edge of a table for not the first time, and she growled as she tugged them free.

An Initiate’s uniform , Leto had said. Every mage guild had some sort of regalia it used to distinguish its members, and as Taly had been informed earlier that morning as Leto draped her body in silk and braided her hair with ribbons to match, the Queen had requested that she appear for her first official day of training in formal dress.