Page 33 of Acolyte (Tempris #2)

Azura gestured for them to continue forward.

“The Sight is a very curious gift,” she began, patting Taly’s shoulder when she no doubt saw the rising panic leech the color from her cheeks, “and one that is sorely misunderstood. As time mages, we cannot see the future because the future is inherently malleable. Each moment has an infinite number of variations, each one based on the decisions of an infinite number of players. The Sight allows us to see each of those variations and the key decisions that led to that outcome.”

Taly forced herself to breathe. “So… what you’re saying is that I’m seeing possibilities? Possible futures where Skye dies?”

“I believe so.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” At all. Because even one future without him in it was too many.

“This is my fault,” Azura muttered to herself. “I thought it was still too early to begin training your Sight, but it seems I forgot to consider the variables.”

Taly frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Azura hesitated, considering her words. “ Normally , you would find it exceptionally difficult to focus on a single person’s future.

Even during times of peace, when you don’t have so many players on the board making pivotal decisions, if you don’t take measures to keep yourself centered, dream divination can be a bit like groping around in the dark. ”

“How do you stay centered?” Taly asked as they began ascending a wide staircase.

“There are a few ways,” Azura said. “The most common is to meditate with a personal item. Something the person carried with them. Something they valued. Blood would also work. Hair too. Essentially, anything that could connect you to the person whose future you wish to see.”

Taly’s frown deepened. As far as she knew, she didn’t have anything of Skye’s. She had lost her pack when Byron got spooked and ran off, and Azura still hadn’t returned her dagger and pistols, both of which Skye had placed his mark upon in some way.

Which then begged the question: “Why am I able to focus on Skye’s future?”

Azura waved her off. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. For now, it’s just important to understand that these visions aren’t necessarily real. Although,” she added with a sympathetic glance, “I understand that this will be little solace while you are experiencing them.”

Taly bobbed her head. That made sense. Sort of. “So… he’s not dead?”

“Probably not.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Anything is possible ,” Azura said as she led them up yet another staircase, “but not all things are likely. For example, it’s possible that elephants could learn how to fly, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to build a net to keep them out of the gardens.”

Oh. That made Taly feel marginally better. Except— “What’s an elephant?” Other than something that couldn’t fly.

Supposedly.

Azura smiled—a real smile this time, free of that strange melancholy that had been hanging around her like a cloud all evening. “It’s an animal from the mortal realm. Magnificent creatures. Ugly, but… in a regal sort of way.”

“That makes no sense.” Taly swayed a bit on the final stair. Shards, she was exhausted. Even her bones felt tired.

“You really should rest,” Azura said, something like worry dimming her eyes.

Taly shook her head. “I’m—”

“Don’t say fine. Not when it’s such an obvious lie.

” Azura stopped in front of a door. Taly’s door.

The Queen had somehow led them back to her tower without her realizing.

“My advice to you right now would be that if you find yourself in a dream from which you’d like to wake up, find a ledge and jump.

A good fall is generally all it takes to snap you right back into the waking world. ”

No teasing, no disparagement. Not for the first time, Taly realized that she knew nothing about this woman—and likely understood even less. “Can I ask you one more question?”

“You can ask,” Azura said with a hint of a smile, “but I can’t promise that I’ll answer.”

Taly pulled her robe against the chill of the night. “That first day, you said there had been other time mages born since the Schism, but all the Sanctorum has ever found are suspects. What happened to them? ”

Azura’s eyes shuttered. “They’re dead,” she murmured. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. “All taken by the Sanctorum at their Attunement Ceremonies, and later killed. Their mothers were not as resourceful as yours. Or as willing to remove a Sanctifier’s head.”

Taly’s brows rose. “My mother killed a Sanctifier?”

Azura snorted, giving a little half-smile.

“Three of them, actually. The more powerful the mage, the more Sanctifiers they assign to their Attunement Ceremony. Their deaths were, of course, covered up. The Sanctorum’s war is as much psychological as it is physical.

They don’t want the public knowing that time mages are still being born, and they’ve worked with the noble houses to make sure that information stays buried. ”

Taly opened her mouth to ask why, but Azura fixed her with a look. “That was two questions.” Reaching past her, Azura turned the handle, opening the door. “Which tells me that you need to go to bed. Shards know you’ll be useless tomorrow if you’re too tired to even count.”

Taly didn’t put up a fight as Azura ushered her inside, and the door softly closed behind her. She was already half-asleep by the time she fell into bed, barely noticing Calcifer as he curled up beside her.

Moments later, her aether flashed as she was sucked into another dream.

“All time mages keep a journal,” Azura said, pacing the length of the study room, speaking to Taly in her usual seat at a long wooden table.

“Meeting people out of order, seeing futures that may never come true, walking through the past—it wears on a person, and reality starts to get muddy. The best way to keep your thoughts in order is to write them down. Shards know I would’ve lost my mind nine times over without a journal to keep me straight. ”

Azura placed a book on the table, and Taly resisted the urge to point out that the Queen’s grip on reality was, at best, tenuous, as she reached across, pulling the book closer. It was plain, wrapped in soft brown leather with a blue-ribbon marker stuffed beneath the pages. Ordinary enough, except—

“Where did you get this?” Taly asked.

Because that wasn’t just a book. It was a diary. Her diary—one that had long since been filled and abandoned back in Ryme, hidden where nobody but her knew to look.

“You gave it to me, of course,” was all the Queen offered in explanation, and Taly had no choice but to believe her.

For indeed, there was no mistaking it. Like all her diaries, the letters TC were stamped into the bottom right corner, and the dates were written along the spine in red ink. This one read: Anon 244 –

The rest had been rubbed out.

Running her fingers along the soft leather, she traced her initials, felt the fraying ribbon, the ends knotted and re-knotted as the braided threads came undone. As soon as she lifted the cover, she was met with her own familiar handwriting.

From the personal diary of Talya Caro

That phrase marked every page as Taly began leafing through the entries.

She had been fourteen when she started this diary, what became the first of many, and she cringed at the crude drawings of Skye lying dead on the ground with swords sticking out of his back.

Needless to say, she hadn’t been happy when he was introduced at the Dawn Court, nearly doubling the time he spent away each year.

Ivain had suggested journaling to help her sort out her thoughts.

And now the Queen was doing the same.

Azura said, “I want you to spend the afternoon writing down your dreams. All of them. Anything and everything you can remember since you came to the palace. Sometimes the tiniest, most forgettable details are the key to avoiding catastrophe.”

“But it’s full,” Taly pointed out, still flipping through the pages. She’d filled this book from cover to cover.

“A time mage’s journal is never full.” Azura leaned against a nearby desk, arms crossed. “Look.”

Turning to the last page, Taly watched with detached fascination as the letters began to blur, dissolving until there was nothing but a blank white space, waiting to be filled.

A time mage’s journal indeed.

“The entries aren’t gone,” Azura said. “Only hidden. The pages are enchanted to phase in and out of the present reality.”

“Like a pocket universe?”

“Like a thousand pocket universes, all layered on top of each other.”

Taly frowned. The pages were in fact blank now, and if she focused, she could feel magic woven into the paper itself. “Ivain keeps a journal. He said his eldest sister was the one that got him started.”

“Well, his eldest sister was one of us, so that comes as no surprise. Time magic runs strong in the Castaro line.”

“Did you know her?” Taly looked up. “Ivain hardly ever speaks about her.”

Azura nodded, something sad creeping into her expression. “I did. She was a very dear friend, even after she had the gall to take the Bryer name.” Her lip curled. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that the Raines and Bryers are sworn enemies.”

Taly shook her head. She didn’t. It was common knowledge that the Raine bloodline founded House Thanos, only to be usurped by one of their vassals.

Azura had lived long enough to see both families rise to power, and had used her influence as Queen to protect her bloodline from extinction.

The Bryer Matriarch was not known for mercy.

If she’d had her way, the entire Raine family would be nothing but a memory, even the children executed .

“You never wanted to rule,” Taly said. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she did.

“House Thanos changed leadership just after you took the throne, which means that you would’ve had to take the Rites to inherit the Shard while there was still fighting going on.

You were pushed into it, weren’t you? To save your family? ”

Azura’s frown deepened. It was all the confirmation she needed.

Azura pushed herself off the desk. “ Write .” A pointed glance at the journal. “And every time you complete an entry, I want you to practice summoning and dismissing your Sight. If I’m not mistaken, that is something you already know how to do?”

Taly nodded. She had figured out how to summon her premonitions when she was still mortal. It wasn’t exactly second nature, but she remembered the feeling. Enough to do it again.

“Good,” Azura said. “I’ll be back in an hour. If you have any questions, Leto can help you.”

Chin resting on her hand, Taly watched as the Queen exited the room. Leto was waiting in the hallway.

Interesting , she thought. Not because the Queen had given anything away.

She’d already had the information, simply needed to see the connections.

But it was still interesting in that way that Taly found all things the Queen didn’t want her knowing interesting.

Maybe one day the dots would connect, and the things that woman said and did would start to make sense.

With a sigh, Taly turned to a blank page. There would be hell if she didn’t do as she was told. So, reaching for a nearby quill, she began to write.

Closing the door behind her, Azura leaned against it. Sometimes, it amazed her that she was still capable of feeling guilt over things that happened so long ago. But there it was. A familiar sickness hollowing out her chest.

War was never easy, and no one came out the same as they were before.

“Majesty?”

Azura turned to the haze of soft blue in her peripheral vision. “I don’t like how perceptive she’s becoming,” she said to the woman. “We will have to be more careful with our words. All knowledge has its time, and I’m only now just getting her to trust me. We can’t let that be undone.”

Leto’s light pulsed softly. An affirmation. “I have the names you asked for.”

Azura pushed herself to stand. “Good,” she said. She hated sending the fairies outside of this place. It degraded their sense of self, ate away at what was left of their anima. But sometimes—like now—it was necessary. “And they’re aware of the potential cruelty of this task?”

Leto nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said again. “Let’s go speak with them then. Certain events have already been set in motion, and we must make sure that all the essential players find their proper places.”