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The pipe found her lips again. She inhaled, slow and steady, like the smoke might fill the hollow parts. “You said you weren’t going to make me talk about my feelings.”

A huff. “Fair enough. Can’t blame a man for trying.” He took the pipe when she passed it. “When you two fall out, I swear the whole house drops five degrees. And you’re not even through the first growth cycle. You’ll be leveling cities in your eighties, Shards save us all.”

Fey matured at roughly the same pace as humans—probably an evolutionary necessity to avoid parents murdering their young.

Physical development leveled out by thirty.

Then things went quiet… until the eighties, when their magic began to settle.

That triggered a second hormonal wave that dragged into the first century.

It was a different picture of her eighties than she used to imagine. No rocking chair. No soft blankets and fading into peace.

“It’s hard to imagine being that old,” she said, shifting and pulling her coat tighter.

“You don’t have to imagine it. Just live long enough, and suddenly, there you are.”

“Where do you think we’ll be by then?” She was a time mage. That meant running. That meant not knowing what came next, no matter how hard she tried to look.

“I don’t know.” Ivain continued to stroke her hair, slow and soothing. “In the human realm somewhere, I’d venture to guess. Wherever we end up, I’m sure you and Skye will find something to bicker over.”

She didn’t look at him. Just stared at the bowl of the pipe, flicking soot from the rim. “I keep waiting for him to get tired of this mess. He’d be better off if he just… left.”

Ivain gave a small huff. “The ocean’s more likely to vanish than he is to leave you behind.

I stopped expecting otherwise a long time ago.

You can only watch him dig in so many times before you stop questioning it.

” The steady sweep of his hand didn’t pause.

If anything, it gentled. “He never gave up, you know.”

Taly tilted her head to look at him, brows furrowed.

Ivain went on, “After you went for the relay, and after Aiden found your horse, your necklace, your belongings, but not you… well. We assumed the worst.” His throat worked, those blue eyes shimmering.

“Love always comes with a cost,” he said quietly.

“Sarina and I knew exactly what that cost would be when we took you in. How short your life would be compared to ours, and how much it would hurt when you were gone. And I think… I think we spent so long preparing for it, bracing ourselves for the pain, that when it looked like the time had finally come to pay the debt of all those years of happiness… we just accepted it. We gave up.”

Taly sat up slowly. Her chest felt too full, too tight. “Given what you were working with…” Her voice came out thin. “It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion.”

“Don’t be kind. We were short-sighted.” The words came without defensiveness, just quiet certainty.

“But Skye—he never gave up. Even with everyone telling him to face his grief, to start the process of moving on, he never doubted. Not for one moment. He never stopped believing you would make it through.”

Taly frowned. “He… didn’t tell me any of that.”

“I figured. I know Skye, and no matter how much we– I fought him, I know he wouldn’t want you to think less of us.”

She shook her head. “I would never ,” she said fiercely.

“I know,” Ivain replied, touching her cheek.

“But go easy on him. And on us. And know that if we seem a bit… overprotective ?” She barked out a laugh, scrubbing the sting from her eyes.

That was one word for it. “It’s because somewhere in us, we’re still bracing for the pain.

Still struggling to accept the miracle. Still waiting to pay the inevitable cost that always comes from loving someone so brave and so strong. ”

A dozen things hovered on the edge of her tongue, all of them too big or too tangled. In the end, she settled for the one that felt real.

“You talk about the cost of love, but… what if it isn’t worth it? What if you pay that price and realize later that it wasn’t?”

Ivain didn’t say anything. Just looked at her.

And that look—calm, seeing —made the words feel heavier than they had a second ago. She’d chosen them. Thought they were the safest of the tangled dozen. But now she wasn’t so sure. The mirthroot made everything float. Even judgment.

Taly decided she wasn’t interested in hearing his answer. She tried to push herself up, but the world swayed. She flopped back into the grass. “Fuck, I’m baked.”

He didn’t laugh, but a slow, crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I think I am too. That’s some strong mirthroot. And to answer your question—”

“You don’t have to,” Taly muttered, grimacing.

But he hooked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. “You are,” he said. “Even at your worst, you are worth it.”

Taly groaned into his shoulder, her face hot enough to burn through his coat. “Shut up.”

Ivain ignored her entirely, instead peppering his emotionally allergic daughter with a calm, relentless list of reasons she was worth loving—and refusing to let her wriggle free.

“You’re brilliant. Stubborn. Fearless . Sometimes a little too much.”

She pounded a fist on his chest, squirming like a guttertail stuck in a trap. But he only tightened his grip, holding her there. Making her take it.

“Strong as hell. Fierce when it matters. Loyal.”

“You’re smothering me,” she grumbled into his coat. “This counts as psychological warfare.”

“The best shot with a crossbow I’ve ever trained, and that includes your mother.”

She made a noise halfway between a growl and a whine, sagging against his chest in burning-faced defeat. Love, unfortunately, was not escapable.

It was as much a comfort as it was a nuisance.

Kairó vuun’manii.

Taly’s breath formed frosty clouds in the biting cold as she ran through the quiet city streets.

The sharp chill of the Long Night stung her cheeks.

The city was bathed in a surreal glow, the sky alight with dancing auroras that painted vibrant streaks of green, purple, and blue against the velvety darkness.

Kairó vuun’maaa…nii...

She couldn’t sleep again. She’d tried. Really, she’d tried. But after lying there long enough to memorize the knots in the ceiling beams, she gave up and went for a run.

Even at your worst, you are worth it.

The words hadn’t left her alone since he’d said them. Love came with a cost. And yeah, maybe they chose it—but that didn’t make it easier to watch them pay.

And now, the price had changed.

Kairó vuun’manii!

It included dealing with a time mage who very well might be losing her mind.

Calcifer loped along beside her. He’d taken the form of a barghest hound, and his long legs easily matched her stride for stride.

Taly’s breath came in ragged gasps as she finally slowed her pace, her legs burning. She doubled over just inside the small courtyard in front of the townhouse. Her body was spent, every muscle aching from the exertion, but her thoughts remained restless.

She had half a mind to wake Aimee up. Kicking her around the training hall was always a fun distraction. But it was 5bells in the morning, and even Taly wasn’t that much of a sadist.

The kitchen light was on. Eliza was already making the day’s bread. Taly waved at her through the window, making her way to the workshop behind the main house.

The crack-crack-crack of flint echoed as she switched on the overhead firelamps. Inside, the familiar scent of metal and oil greeted her. It was warm, a stark contrast to the icy chill of the night air outside.

Her fingers twitched as she quickly scanned the cluttered space. For all the hell Azura put her through, there was one benefit—she’d been too busy to dwell on how miserable she was. Now, she had to scrounge for projects. Moving, at least—staying busy—gave her the illusion of control.

With a deep breath, Taly rolled up her sleeves and began to tidy, starting with her bench.

Kato had been using it to work on their shared project, and the result lay scattered in tiny heaps of organized chaos.

She placed tools back into their proper place.

Springs, gears, and half-finished parts all found their labelled bins.

It was methodical, satisfying. Her thoughts kept rhythm. Ivain had his list of reasons she was worth keeping. So, she made one too—reasons she wasn’t.

Twenty-seven dead in the fire that took Vale. Sacrificed to get to her.

Plunk .

Her mother. Taly had killed her too.

Click, scrape .

Aimee and Aiden’s father. She was the reason their life was shit.

Bang.

She kicked the crate beneath the table, harder than she meant to.

The people she loved always paid the toll. So did the ones who never even get the choice.

That was the cost of loving her.

And no matter how hard she tried, how much she gave, she couldn’t make the math balance. She couldn’t pay it back. The debt just kept growing.

The broom scraped softly against the floor, the rhythmic swish-tap of her motions grounding her as she worked. In the back of her head, the bond pulsed—quiet, persistent. Her side was closed, and that’s how it would stay.

She knew what she had to do. Every night, she came up to the edge of it—and stopped. Because knowing the right thing and being able to do it? That was the gap. The one she kept falling into.

Breaking the bond would shatter his heart, but it would also save his life. He deserved that much, at least—someone to protect him from her.

Like that would stop him.

Ivain’s words brought her up short. The broom stilled.

She tried to bury the thought, to shove it back down where it couldn’t take root.

But it lingered.

Because Skye didn’t need the bond to follow her. He’d do it anyway. He wouldn’t take the out—even if she handed it to him.

So, maybe… maybe it wasn’t a mercy to break the bond.

Maybe she was just running again.