Page 107

Maybe it was time to stop making him chase. Let him use that loyalty for survival, not pursuit.

She stepped back, broom trailing along the floor. The workshop looked cleaner. Her head… maybe not spotless, but it was at least a little less cluttered.

She’d saved Skye’s bench for last. Its constant state of disarray always made it the most rewarding prize.

This time, however, Taly frowned when she saw it.

The crystals were neatly organized in their bins, and a fresh stack of aether-infused parchment sat in one corner.

His quills had all been cleaned and polished, the most expensive ones put back in their cases, and the bin for dirty glassware had been emptied.

Skye must’ve cleaned before he left—taken out the waste, washed his equipment, cleared away any clutter.

She instantly knew he was hiding something.

Oh, she’d had her suspicions for a while—whatever secret project kept pulling him out of bed at night. He still thought she didn’t notice when he slipped back in right before sunrise, smelling of aether, blood, and machine oil.

“Wow,” Taly murmured, one corner of her mouth crooking into a smile as she ran a hand along the table. He’d even wiped down the surface. “You really didn’t want me snooping.”

Her fingers traced the neat rows of tools and perfectly organized notes. She carefully lifted the layer of papers, but only diagrams and plans were tucked underneath.

“What are you up to?” She fell to the floor to peek beneath the table, where more crates of crystals and equipment were all neatly organized.

She pulled them out, sliding them across the floor and shoving them behind her until—

“A safe?”

Made of burnished starsteel with a numeric lock enchanted to ensnare anyone that tried to pick it. It was small, maybe two hands wide and four tall, and tucked away in the very back.

“Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Taly half-crawled beneath the table, lying on her stomach. She didn’t know the combination, but she could probably guess.

Forty—the year Ghislain made it to the Pytchdrive Worlds Championship.

Eight—her birthday.

Seven—his.

And 35—the age to beat for youngest mage to ever earn their fifth Seal, also one of Ivain’s students.

The lock clicked open. That was the problem with knowing someone too well—you couldn’t be surprised when they disappointed you.

“Oh, Em,” she murmured, tsking her tongue. “How many times have I told you to change your combination?”

Reaching into the safe, she pulled out several vials of unlabeled black powder, a vitalis, a folio of knives, and books, books, and more books. The pages were stained with blood and ink and Shards only knew what else.

Sitting on the floor, Calcifer nudged his way beneath her arm as she cracked open one of the hardcovers and began reading.

When she was done, she moved on to the next.

Then the next.

Then the next.

Dawn approached, the dark of the Long Night shifting to a slightly paler shade of gray.

She heard voices—heard the gates to the townhouse creaking open.

Someone was calling her name, but she didn’t answer. She sat frozen, flipping through page after page of damning evidence.

A moment later, Aiden leaned around the partition. “Eliza sent me to tell you that breakfast is ready, and you better hurry because…” His voice trailed off, a look of surprise on his face when he found her on the floor, books scattered all around.

Taly didn’t look up. “Did you know?” she asked softly. Her fingers trembled against the page. “Your name is in his notes. Did you know what he was doing?”

She heard Aiden sigh, his feet shifting. “Taly—”

“Did. You. Know.”

A pause. Then, “Yes.”

Taly exhaled against the ache in her chest.

“Who else?” When he didn’t answer, she lifted her eyes to his. “Who else knew what he was doing?”

“Taly, I really think this is a conversation you should be having—”

Snarling, she flung the book away from her. Flung herself to her feet. The bins of crystals on the table rattled ominously as around her the workshop stuttered, edges trembling, shadows stretching too long between blinks.

Aiden took a step back.

“Who else?” And there was enough quiet venom in her tone that Calcifer growled.

Aiden sighed through his nose, eyes dropping to his feet.

“Oh,” she said, and the shadows stilled.

Everyone—everyone had known. And they’d kept it from her.

“Taly—”

“Don’t.” Her hands clenched at her sides. Her body was shaking. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream, cry, or punch a wall.

Aiden’s eyes flicked to the door. She didn’t have to look to know why. Didn’t have to ask to know who those footsteps belonged to as the scent of sandalwood and suede surrounded her.

Bending over, she gathered up the rest of the books. She was back on her feet by the time Skye appeared, coming to stand beside Aiden. His armor was dusty, his cloak caked with snow. Dirt and exhaustion lined his face as he heaved a large pack off his shoulder and onto the floor.

She ignored the part of her that rejoiced at seeing him after so many days apart, ignored the mirror for that joy she could see shining in his eyes, and slammed the books into his chest.

Surprise had him stumbling back, grappling to catch what he could and letting the rest fall.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” she snarled.

Then she pushed past him. And didn’t look back as she retreated through the door into the snow and darkness.