Page 8 of Acolyte (Tempris #2)

It was silent inside the palace. Completely still. The explosions still rumbled, but it was like distant thunder .

“You’re safe,” the Queen said softly, soothingly . It was only then that Taly realized she was shaking. “We are all safe so long as we stay inside the palace. Look.”

Taly looked to where she pointed. Beyond the doorway, pillars of smoke speared the air, and violent flashes of white light cracked open the sky. Ash swirled in the air and pelted the ground, but it all stopped at the palace doors, as though there was an invisible line.

“What is that?” Taly breathed.

Azura gazed impassively out the doorway. “That was the reason I told you not to go outside. And before you ask, yes—that will be happening every night.”

“Every night?” Taly edged farther away from the door. “How? Why?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Azura watched her retreat. “This is a time loop.”

“A what?”

“ A time loop ,” Azura repeated, enunciating each word as though she were talking to a small child. “Imagine time as a length of string. Now, if someone were to cut out a portion of that string and tie it in a circle—that’s where we are. This is a single day, repeating over and over without end.”

Taly worked her tongue, trying to translate thought into speech. But the words wouldn’t come. She was paralyzed, rooted to the spot. Helpless to do anything but watch as the world outside crumbled and burned.

“Which day?” Azura offered. “You were about to ask it. Or wanted to.”

“Which day?” Taly parroted weakly.

Azura gave a soft, sad sigh, her eyes still on the door. Like she wanted to look away but couldn’t. “This is the day the world ended. By my own hand.”

Those words settled in her like a stone, and for a moment, Taly stopped seeing the vast marble hall, the rolling destruction at her back. She stopped hearing the explosions, the ones she now realized weren’t really explosions.

They were gates closing abruptly, each one a bridge connecting two worlds separated by time and space.

Without the proper shutdown protocols, the two sides of that portal would crash back together, forcing all the air and physical matter that used to occupy that artificial space in-between away in one explosive outburst.

There was another blast, louder than all the rest. Closer.

She knew now why they called it the Schism. It sounded like the ground, like the very world, was breaking apart.

“So, all this time,” Taly said, mustering anger in the absence of courage, “you’ve been here? While the time mages were being hunted, while the Sanctorum was destroying the island—you were here ? Reliving… what? Your greatest triumph? Time Queen victorious because fuck everyone else?”

“I would hardly call this a triumph,” Azura said. The ash was collecting on the ground outside, piling up against the veil of protective magic. “More like an unfortunate necessity.”

Taly sneered. Millions of people had died that day; the world had never been the same. And this woman talked like it was little more than an inconvenience. “You’re a monster,” she spat.

“I know. ”

The words were so soft, Taly almost missed them.

Azura finally turned away from the door.

“This is what I’m talking about,” she said tiredly.

“You’re always so serious, always making me talk about things I’d rather not revisit.

Lady Fun-Killer you are, Vanquisher of Joy.

Maybe I should get you a little sash. Those do eventually come back into style. ”

A sudden giggle bubbled up, and Azura waved a hand as the fairies began to chatter and disperse.

Outside, chaos reigned.

“You will not escape,” Azura called back.

Her steps were slow and measured as she retreated down the hall, a row of fairies trailing behind.

“It’s pointless to even try. There are many doors and pathways that lead in and out of this place, and I control every single one.

I decide who comes and who goes, where and when. You’re here until I say you can leave.”

Taly ran after her. “And when will that be?” she asked, not even trying to hide the desperation in her voice. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”

Azura paused, and for a moment, Taly thought she wasn’t going to answer. That she would deflect the question the same way she had in the garden. But then she said, “When you earn your third training designation, I will send you home. You have my word.”

Taly stumbled to a stop in the middle of the hall.

“But that could take years,” she rasped.

Skye had been 16 when he earned his third seal—that was 11 years of training, and he’d been a special case.

He’d had Ivain—one of the greatest living shadow mages—working with him day in, day out. It took most fey far longer.

She’d be forgotten by then. Given up for dead by all that knew her.

Azura’s expression softened. “Don’t worry. Time moves differently here. Skye and the rest of your family—they’ll hardly notice you’re gone.

“And speaking of family…” Her eyes dropped. “I almost forgot.” Without warning, Taly’s necklace was ripped away.

“No.” Taly grasped at the necklace, frantic. “That was my mother’s.”

Azura held the chain just out of reach. “And who do you think gave it to her?”

Taly stopped reaching. She barely felt it when the tears began to fall. Her mother’s necklace. The Queen had managed to taint even that.

The Queen once again turned, offering no explanation as she began to walk away.

“You seem tired, Madam.” Leto’s voice was melodic and soothing, and she placed a gentle hand on Taly’s shoulder. The buzz of aether made her teeth sing. “Would you like to retire for the night?”

Taly nodded wordlessly, allowing herself to be pulled to the side, towards a door she didn’t recognize.

“Everything will look better in the morning,” one of the fairies whispered sympathetically as they passed.

“She’s really not that bad,” another chimed.

“Yes, she is,” came a tinkling mutter. “But you get used to it.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

But Taly had already stopped listening .

She was trapped.

That thought kept repeating in an endless loop.

She was trapped in a strange place with an even stranger woman. Trapped until she could complete a task that could take years.

As she trudged after Leto, she felt each one of those years opening up in front of her, a dark, yawning chasm from which she couldn’t escape.