Page 92 of Acolyte (Tempris #2)

“That’s what I said.” She splayed her hands, as if to say she had nothing to hide.

“So? What will it be? Will you ask me about the fairies? Who’s attacking your island?

Why the Sanctorum continues to exist despite an apparent lack of time mages to hunt?

Or perhaps you’ll ask me how I managed to hide a dimensional gate beneath my palace and then keep it hidden for over two centuries?

I know Skye has already told you about his journey here. ”

Taly glanced at Skye, but he said nothing. This was her question. And while there were so many she wanted to ask, so many things she still didn’t know, if she only got one answer… “Why did you close the gates?”

Azura tapped a finger against the side of her teacup. “Why didn’t you ask the other question you’ve been considering? Why didn’t you ask me why I took it upon myself to train you?”

“Because I already know the answer,” Taly said, meeting those golden eyes. “You need me.”

“And don’t you want to know why?”

“Of course. But I have a feeling the two questions are related.”

Azura’s expression sobered as she carefully placed her teacup to the side.

“Why did you do it?” Taly asked again. “It’s the question every single citizen of the Fey Imperium has been asking for nearly two and a half centuries. Why did you close the gates? Any time mage with a heartbeat would’ve been able to predict the devastation you caused.”

Azura crossed her arms protectively around her body, letting her eyes scan the room as she gathered her thoughts.

After a moment, she said bluntly, “The last time the full Genesis Council met, a man came to see us. He wasn’t on the docket, but since it would be another ten years before our next scheduled congress, we gave him the floor. ”

Azura’s eyes dropped. “He told us such horrible things. Too horrible to ever be considered, and yet… I couldn’t shake them.

We adjourned that day, and I spent the next year in deep meditation.

And when I could no longer deny the tr uth of his words, I called my mages to me, hoping that they could see something that I could not. ”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the final meeting of the Time Guild?

” Skye waited for Azura to nod before continuing, “At the time, no one could figure out why you recalled your mages. They were serving as advisors and teachers, politicians and ambassadors. You threatened fey relations with multiple gate worlds by forcing an assembly.”

“We kept that information to ourselves,” Azura said.

“We kept a lot of things to ourselves as we began picking apart the timelines, using our collective power to make a map of every possible future. Secrecy was vital to our endeavor—even the smallest change in a person’s actions can have a cascading effect on future events.

In the end, however, all we managed to prove was the truth of this harbinger’s message.

“Which only left one question: what to do about it?”

Azura frowned, flicking her skirts behind her as she began to idly pace.

“I called an emergency session of the Council, and we debated. We went back and forth, analyzing every variable. And after weeks of arguing, we split. Auberin and Nissa went one way—they formed their Dawn Court and entrenched themselves on the mainland and would eventually use my actions to seize more power than they were due.”

Taly blanched. “The Sanctorum,” she breathed, and Skye placed a hand on her shoulder.

Azura only nodded. “As for Zion, Heleus, and Atlas,” she continued.

The remaining three members of the Council.

“They moved their courts to the mortal realm, hoping to escape the devastation that was to come. Perhaps they even planned to learn the ways of that world, a way to survive should we ever need it. I’m not sure.

We stopped talking to each other after that meeting—stopped trusting each other.

Which is, I think, exactly what that man wanted. To divide us.”

“What were the Council Lords in the mortal realm running from?” Taly asked, grateful for the hand that was still resting on her shoulder. The warm, steady reassurance. “The shades?”

Azura shook her head. “My dear, the attack on Tempris is only the beginning. The opening act in a war that’s been building for longer than even I am able to comprehend.”

“You still haven’t explained why you closed the gates,” Skye pointed out.

His tone was steady, but even he looked a bit pale at this point.

“You claim that you found out war is coming, but you didn’t try to solidify power or escape—you shut down the gates.

You killed the people you were sworn to protect. Why ?”

Instead of answering him directly, Azura found Taly’s stare and held it.

“Everyone else is always dealing in possibilities,” she said softly.

“But we can see when those possibilities fall away. The others—my fellow Council members… they didn’t want to believe in a future without hope.

They didn’t believe me when I said—when every time mage with the Sight and even those without—confirmed the inevitability that was slowly creeping towards us.

“No matter how many times I altered the variables, no matter how many scenarios I ran, I saw only two viable futures.

In the first: blood and death swept the land, wiping out every people and race, regardless of creed or religion.

Life continued, but not in the way that we knew it. Not in a way we would even want it.

“It was such a terrible future,” Azura breathed.

The sadness in those words made Taly’s heart clench.

“Not for the horrors that awaited us, but the certainty of our demise. I spent months, maybe years, in that timeline, trying to learn its intricacies, trying to find a way forward should the worst come to pass, and sometimes… sometimes, I think I can still hear the screaming, still feel the sting of the whips, and the cold bite of the chains. I’ll turn a corner, and all I’ll see is smoke and blood and…

” Azura’s voice trailed off, eyes wide with some distant terror.

“Az,” Leto said kindly. Any other time, Taly would’ve marveled at the informality.

Azura drew in a soft gasp, seeming to come back to herself.

“In the second future,” she continued hoarsely, the hand she pressed to her chest trembling, “I saw a possibility. A whisper of a chance. There were no guarantees, of course. There never are. But that’s what I chose.

It’s what I and every soul haunting the corridors of this palace chose.

Life— no matter the cost. Survival —if not for ourselves, then for those that might come after.

The world thinks me mad. That my actions were unprompted and unprovoked.

That I acted alone. But that is a lie. A calculated lie spread by those that know better.

“We were at war, and I did what was necessary.” Azura’s throat bobbed as she sank down into a nearby chair, cradling her face in her hand. “I gave us a chance. In a war we were never meant to win, I bought time. And now—now that time is up. ”

Taly couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

War .

They were at war with something worse than shades. Something that made the sudden and abrupt deaths of millions of people worth the sacrifice.

Something that would drive them to extinction. That’s what Azura had just described.

And what did this have to do with her? With why Azura had trained her, brought her here—

Skye slipped his hand into hers, and Taly jumped. He’d been so quiet, she’d almost forgotten he was there.

Skye cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said, and damn him.

Damn him for still looking so calm. “You felt the destruction of the gates was for some greater good. However, what does this have to do with Taly? What role could she possibly play in a war that’s been silently raging longer than anyone in this room has even been alive? ”

The flicker of devastation that flashed across Azura’s face was like a punch to the gut. “That is information you neither need nor want.”

“Tell us anyway,” Skye demanded.

Azura shook her head. “I am done answering questions for today. I have already given you more than you need.”

Skye turned Taly to face him, and it was only then that she realized she’d started shaking.

He took her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to his, and…

there was so much love there. More affection than she knew she deserved.

“You’re not alone,” he said with such quiet ferocity.

“Whatever happens, you won’t be alone. We go together. Even into this. ”

Taly gave a jerky nod. “Until the end,” was all she managed.

“The gate is ready.” Azura looked to the shimmering portal that spanned the back wall. A dark room lay beyond, rippling at the edges. “And as I promised, Kato is safe and sound. Although, perhaps a little frazzled, so you might go easy on him.”

Leto placed a rucksack on the table filled with food and water and other supplies.

“Skylen.” Azura rose from her chair, her dress giving a soft sigh. “If you would. I need a moment alone with my Acolyte.”

Skye hesitated, unsure.

“I’ll be fine,” Taly said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Really.”

He still looked conflicted but made no argument as he pressed a kiss to her head and moved to gather their supplies. “She had better come through that gate before it closes,” he said to the Queen, his eyes sparkling with something dangerous and unfamiliar. “If she doesn’t…”

He let the words hang, and Taly shivered at the implicit threat.

Azura merely smiled. “Skylen, it’s always a pleasure. And be sure to take the beast with you.” She threw a glance at Calcifer as he loped toward the gate. “Shards know I’m not going to miss having a mimic in my palace.”

Skye let out a low growl but said nothing else. His footsteps echoed on the metal plating surrounding the gate, and the rippling sheen of magic slipped across his body like water as he disappeared through the portal, Calcifer close behind him .

The gate hummed in the resulting silence. The Queen made no move to speak. She simply waited, hands clasped, knowing exactly what she had done and the things that still needed to be said.

“I should hate you,” Taly breathed.

“But do you?”

“No.” And in that moment, Taly realized it was the truth. Though this woman had created a nightmare tailor-made to each and every one of her darkest fears, she had learned something about herself.

She was strong. Stronger than she had ever allowed herself to believe. Stronger than she would ever have allowed herself to be.

She had set a trap for a man thousands of years her elder, mastered grief and panic and finally embraced that vicious, brutal part of her that was and had always been unmistakably fey.

That had been the Queen’s final lesson, and Taly was grateful for it.

Taly turned to Leto. “If you need us,” was all the fairy said as she reached for Taly’s wrist, fastening a small bracelet with what looked like little bells attached to the clasp.

“I’ll never take it off,” Taly said, tears welling in her eyes as the fairy’s form began to shiver, evaporating into mist. She was going to miss Leto—the one voice of reason in all this insanity.

Taly toyed with one of the bells, the sound like windchimes.

Like the fairy’s laughter. “Are you really not going to tell me anything else?” She lifted her eyes to Azura’s.

“You said we were at war, but who are we fighting? And why did the Council split when we would’ve been stronger together?

Why did the Genesis Lords run to the mortal realm?

Why would the Dawn Court waste resources hunting down time mages when they could be preparing to fight? ”

Azura sighed, taking Taly’s hands in hers. “All knowledge has its time, and for now, you have what you need.”

“That’s horribly cryptic and incredibly annoying,” Taly muttered.

Azura smiled—a real, genuine smile despite the tears that shimmered in the corners of her eyes. “I’m aware. But I’m also a time mage—we are, at our core, horribly cryptic and incredibly annoying.”

The tears flowed freely from Taly’s eyes and… Damn it. Why was this particular goodbye so hard? She’d always thought she’d be glad to be rid of this insane woman.

Azura let her hands drop. “I haven’t told you this enough, but you’ve done well. Better than I expected. You’d think I would’ve learned to stop underestimating you by now.”

Oh. That felt better than Taly wanted to admit.

Azura went on, “I have one more thing to tell you, and if you only retain one lesson from your time here, remember this. You are going to be asked an important question very soon. And though I cannot tell you what it will be, I need you to say no.” Azura’s voice caught.

“Do you understand me, Talya? When the question comes—and you’ll know it when it does—it is imperative that you say no.

Promise me. You have to promise me. Swear it. ”

“I swear,” Taly said, and meant it.

“Good.” Azura wiped at her eyes. “Good, good… And I suppose, if there’s nothing else, it’s ti me to send you home. Before Skye comes back through and decides to commit regicide.” Her lips quirked. “It’s not the first time he’s made the threat. Not the first time he’s meant it either.”

“I imagine not,” Taly said dryly.

Azura snorted at that, then placed her hands on Taly’s shoulders. “Good luck, Talya Caro.”

With that final statement, she gave Taly a slight push, through the gate. Multi-colored swirls of energy danced all around her, cascading, growing, expanding, and condensing as Azura faded from view.

And for the first time in a year, Taly felt a pull, like a current flowing past her, dragging her downstream, as time once again began to move forward.