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“You don’t have to do this,” Skye said from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I know.” Taly checked her reflection in the mirror.

“If you’re not ready—”

“ I’m ready ,” she insisted, not needing to turn around to see his eyes flick up and down her body, as if he would find some evidence to the contrary. And true, she’d given them plenty of cause to worry lately, but she was tired of being tired. It was time to keep moving.

Taly smoothed a hand over her braid, then over the combs behind her ears—immortal, arched ears that she no longer needed to hide behind a glamour. “I can’t stay in this townhouse forever, Em. There’s too much to do, and I’ve already wasted enough time wallowing.”

Creaking floorboards told her Skye was on his feet, and a moment later, hands slid around her waist as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, hugging her from behind.

These last few weeks had been hard on him too.

Through the bond, she could still feel the echoes of terror from that day and everything that came after.

Fading, but then every so often, a memory would trigger, and the blind panic, the anguish of the moment would constrict his heart like a fist.

I’m fine. She almost said it out loud before she caught herself. She wasn’t fine. She was anything but, and Skye knew it. She’d told him everything—about that feeling of absolute power, how deeply it had unsettled her, and the voice she could still hear whispering in her head.

Kairó vuun’manii .

And he hadn’t balked from it. She was starting to think maybe he really meant it when he said he planned on sticking around. Also, that he had a thing for high-maintenance women.

Taly leaned into him.And at some point, the press of their bodies became about more than comfort. She was suddenly aware of his hardness and his heat as he held her tighter.

There hadn’t been much space for intimacy during her recovery. Aiden had only cleared her this morning, and even then, she’d had to beg.

Turning in his arms, Taly went to her toes to brush her mouth against his.

He groaned, low and rough, deepening the kiss as his hands moved to map the contours of her body.

Gentler than she would’ve liked but as a condition of that clearance, Aiden had made them both promise not to break anything he’d have to put back together.

With one last kiss, she pulled away. “Em—”

His mouth caught hers, and he drew her back in. She whimpered. It had been a very long recovery.

“Em,” she tried again. “I love you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these weeks. But I am leaving this house. Get out of my way, or I’ll remove your balls from your body. Your choice.”

He smiled against her mouth. “It really shouldn’t make me this happy when you threaten me with physical violence.”

“You are deeply strange,” she said into the kiss.

“Welcome back, feisty.” He finally let her go. And landed a swift, playful smack on her rear, drawing a startled yelp as he followed her down the stairs without further complaint.

Gravel crunched as they strode along the pathway leading around the side of the townhouse, the hot summer sun beating down on top of them. After spending so long in darkness, the colors looked sharper, more vibrant.

“A beautiful day to surrender yourself to the mob,” Sarina grumbled, falling in beside Skye. “Are we sure about this?” she asked him.

Taly opened the garden gate. “Yes, Sarina. We are.”

“Surely, there’s no need to push yourself,” she went on. “Nobody would think less of you if you needed more time—”

“I don’t need time,” Taly said. By now, she’d had more than enough of it. Time to cry, time to get angry, time for her wounds to heal.

Ivain was already waiting by the front gates when they approached, looking as anxious as the others. “I really think we should reconsider this.”

Taly simply smiled while reaching past him to the security panel. The enchantments hummed as they disengaged, slithering over her skin like smoke as she wrapped her hand around the handle of the smaller pedestrian gate. “Did you or did you not say that Kalahad wanted to see me?”

“I meant when you were ready.”

“I’m ready now. It’s going to be fine. I promise,” she added with a kiss to his cheek.

Ivain sighed, not so much in defeat as resignation, stepping aside as she yanked open the gate.

Outside, the crowd hushed.

“Oh look,” Taly said. “People.”

At least a hundred stood waiting in the street for them. Well, her . The time mage.

Ivain had tried chasing them away, but they just kept coming back. People gathered, to catch a glimpse, or maybe to crucify her? She wasn’t sure what the general mood of the city was in the aftermath.

Taly stepped beneath the arch of the gateway. Her family followed her in a tight, anxious line. She stopped a few feet from the crowd, staring at them as they stared at her.

It had happened—the absolute worst thing that could happen. And yet… she was still here. Not whole, not triumphant, but free, in a way. Whatever came next, she would live, fight, and die exactly as she was.

Taly stepped into the crowd. She kept her chin high. She wanted them to see her face, all of it. The arched brows, hollow cheeks, and strange Fey eyes.

She wanted them to see that she was not broken.

The crowd parted in utter silence, creating a path as they moved through. The first time it happened, Taly thought it was a fluke—an accidental brush to her shoulder as people continued to split around them, like water flowing around a stone.

But another hand touched her shoulder.

Then another.

It happened again and again. People reached out to touch her.

The Savior of Ebondrift, their Vale-born daughter. And among the titles she recognized, she heard another name whispered.

Dawnbringer .

Skye snorted behind her.

“Don’t,” Taly hissed.

But he just grinned. “At this rate, I’m going to have to take up the lute. Every hero needs a bard.”

The people continued to part, their faces reflecting a reverence that both humbled and unsettled her. It was strange to see herself through their eyes—a symbol of hope, perhaps, even a protector.

She’d saved them. In Ebondrift, then at Crescent Canyon.

Then again when she’d split open the sky to rip back the souls of the dead.

And while she still didn’t feel like a savior, and her victories, though hard earned, were still in her mind more strokes of luck than feats of true heroism—she’d become more than just herself. More than just Taly.

“This is weird, right?” she whispered.

“Really weird,” Skye murmured as hands trailed along his shoulders too.

“They’ve obviously never seen you before you’ve had your coffee.

” Taly stomped on his boot, but he didn’t miss a beat, strumming an imaginary lute as he sang, “Fear not the monsters, nor blades, nor war—fear instead the hero denied her morning pour.”

“It’s adorable that you think I won’t kill you,” Taly hissed.

“Her patience is gone, her blade is near—”

She elbowed him in the ribs. Hard .

“Ow,” he coughed. “See? Proving my point.”

“Enjoy it, dears,” Sarina drawled, smiling benevolently as she reached out to clasp the hands that stretched towards her. “It’s like I always say, you haven’t really lived until you’ve been anointed goddess of something or other. When I was on Jeddun—”

“We do not need to hear about Jeddun,” Ivain grumbled from the rear.

Gold streaked across Taly’s vision moments before a shout rose from the crowd.

She held out a hand.

The stone stopped inches from her palm, hanging mid-air.

Silence rippled over the crowd as people instinctively stepped back.

It was one thing to know a time mage was among them. Another to witness her in action.

Or maybe it was the heat radiating off Sarina. Even Taly needed some space.

Behind her, Skye was already coiled like a spring, his gaze cutting through the crowd, hunting for the idiot who’d dared to throw it. Someone was about to learn the hard way not to mess with a shadow mage’s mate.

Let me , Taly sent down the bond.

She plucked the stone out of the air and stepped into the crush. Again, people parted around her, whispering.

Aether shimmered at her fingertips as a golden thread unspooled from the stone’s surface, winding backward through the crowd like a ribbon. Faces turned to follow it. Gasps rose as it brushed past boots and knees, trailing sparks.

She wanted them to see the spell.

To watch her follow it back to its point of origin.

He was Fey, Lowborn, with eyes that glowed like the morning sun. The wild hatred in his gaze should’ve seared her.

Taly stopped in front of him. The crowd held their breath.

“I believe this is yours,” she said and extended the rock.

Those hate-filled eyes flicked from the gray lump of stone back to her face. He did not reach out to take it, so she dropped it at his feet.

Taly turned to go.

“Time mage cunt,” the man snarled and spat on the ground between them.

The crowd went silent as Taly turned back to face him. “Could you say that again?” she asked pleasantly. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

The man remained silent. He tried to hold her gaze, but Taly’s unrelenting stare bored into him until his eyes dropped.

That was the thing about baseless hate. When put under pressure, it cracked, revealing a foundation of fear. And that, as everyone knew, made for a flimsy cornerstone.

“That’s what I thought,” Taly said, a faint smirk playing on her mouth.

And then she did the worst thing one could ever do to a man like that.

Turning to rejoin her family, she immediately forgot him.

Thankfully, they didn’t have to go far. Down the street to the townhouse at the end, the guards in their light summer uniforms moved aside, letting them enter through a set of massive, overly grand carved wooden doors.

Inside, there wasn’t a single piece of furniture that wasn’t shattered. At least, none that Taly could see as they moved from the foyer into the long hallway that led straight through to the back of the house.