Page 27

Yet despite the mounting desire to commit murder, another feeling was slowly overtaking her. Not completely unfamiliar, but certainly something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Like a warmth wrapping around her soul.

Only family knew exactly where to poke. And she’d missed it more than she could ever admit—the sting of being known .

She was home—finally. For better or worse, she would not abandon it again.

A thorough inspection of her torso found the source of that strange needling pain: two incisions, one on either side of her rib cage. The bruising around them was slow to fade.

After Ivain and Sarina finished making her wish she had the ability to spontaneously combust, they finally told her what happened.

She had Earthlung—apparently, it was something she’d had as a child.

Another little surprise, like her magic, that her body had sprung on her at the most inopportune moment.

Taly searched her memory, but everything from before the fire was a blank void broken occasionally by a vague feeling or half-remembered thought.

She’d stopped expecting those memories to come back, though she couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything else lingering in that forgotten space of her life, waiting to be unearthed.

Skye had already told everyone a little about what happened. As they sat down to dinner—a veritable homecoming feast of roast lamb, smoked root vegetables steeped in fragrant spices, golden rice, even sugarberry tarte—it was up to Taly to fill in the gaps.

And that’s what she did. She told them her story. And it was easier than she’d thought it would be to face them.

They picked up old jokes like they’d seen each other only yesterday and effortlessly fell back into unfinished conversations, going off on tangents that ended nowhere near where they began.

Sitting around the table, talking and sharing stories of her adventures, Taly didn’t feel the chasm of lost time between them. Love spanned the gap.

They joined the staff in the kitchen for dessert, where each member insisted on giving her a hug. There were notably fewer of them, and Taly realized with a guilty pang that Ivain must’ve sent some away—either not wanting to involve them or not trusting them enough to keep her secret.

With the siege, work would be scarce, but she knew he wouldn’t have turned them out with nothing. It softened the blow—if only slightly.

And that wasn’t the only change made on her behalf.

After dinner, Ivain walked her through each upgrade and protection. Wards lined the doors, sealing against forced entry. A hidden passage ran beneath the library. The very air shimmered with layered concealments dense enough to shield her, but more than that—to let her cast freely.

He hadn’t just built a fortress. He’d built a place where she didn’t have to hide.

And soon, he said, she wouldn’t be confined to these walls. She would be able to go outside .

Gratitude sat heavy in her chest—an old ache, familiar but no easier to bear.

They had given her everything, asked for nothing.

She would never be able to repay it, not in full.

They could’ve so easily confined her to the basement levels, forced her into hiding.

It’s what she’d expected. What she’d been mentally bracing herself for.

And yet, they hadn’t.

Someday, she would find a way to repay them. Maybe not in words. Maybe not in full. But she would try.

Outside, the evening air was calm and cool, a welcome change from the stuffy warmth of the house. In a rare moment of solitude, Taly made her way down to the stables. There was still one more reunion to put behind her.

The moment she stepped inside, Byron went wild, nearly breaking out of his stall trying to get to her. He cried so fiercely the grooms came running, thinking one of the horses must surely be dying.

She calmed him as best she could, murmuring into his mane as she slipped into the stall, letting him nuzzle and paw until the worst of it passed.

Then she got to work. She cleaned his stall and gave him a good brush down, telling him an abbreviated version of where she’d been.

Horses didn’t care for the details. And it was all probably more activity than she should’ve attempted, considering Skye found her in the tack room afterward, mid-wheeze as she took a pull off her airbalm.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on her. “Seriously?” His voice was tight, disbelief clear in every word. “Tell me you’re not actually out here mucking stalls.”

“I’m not mucking stalls,” Taly said, tucking the airbalm into her pocket. “I was just spending some quality time with Byron.”

The little stallion nickered from his stall. Not a gelding anymore—Ivain had removed the enchantments that kept his horns from growing in. [ii] It would give him a stronger chance of survival if shades found their way into the city.

“Did that quality time involve a shovel?” Skye asked.

Taly shrugged and pushed past him. “And if it did?”

“Taly.”

“What? You asked if I was mucking stalls . Plural. I mucked a stall. Technically, didn’t lie.”

Skye growled under his breath, but she had him. He knew it. She knew that he knew it, though it didn’t stop the inevitable frown of disapproval. “Cute.”

“Thanks,” she said, grinning.

“But you know what I mean. You were unconscious in my arms just this morning. You shouldn’t be mucking anything.”

He… may have had a point. There was a stitch in her side that wouldn’t go away, and she didn’t want to take another breath on the airbalm. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m fine,” she said, pushing past him. The scent of straw and horses faded as she moved into the open yard. It was dark. Crickets and frogs were just beginning their nightly chorus.

Gravel crunched behind her, and she knew he was following. “Aiden said that Earthlung is painful. Extraordinarily was the word he used.”

“Oh? Yeah, I guess.”

“So, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did. I said I had aether sickness.”

“Hey—look at me.” He caught her arm, turning her to face him.

The shadows swallowed everything but his eyes, sharp and glowing green.

“Taly, we’re talking about the difference between a little breathlessness and having the insides of your lungs spontaneously turn to liquid. They’re not even remotely the same.”

It wasn’t what he said. It was how he said it—like she was one step away from complete incompetence.

“And how exactly was I supposed to know that?” She jerked her arm away. “I’ve never had aether sickness before. My lungs hurt. It seemed like a reasonable conclusion.”

Skye looked at her, baffled. Taly tried to understand—she really did. She remembered mentioning the pain, but maybe she’d downplayed it. How was she supposed to know that the twisting ache in her chest was something different, something worse?

“I really am fine, Skye.” It would’ve landed harder if that hadn’t been the moment her voice chose to hitch.

With each frustrated beat of her heart, her lungs felt tighter, the air thinner.

She couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling the airbalm from her pocket, Taly took another breath. The taste was… sour. But also bitter. And it lingered. Her mood darkened on the spot.

“Did you need something?” she asked, sharper than intended.

He was bristling, getting himself worked up, and she didn’t feel like fighting. It made her lungs hurt.

It must’ve shown—the pain, the utter exhaustion—because he took pity on her, albeit moodily. “Ivain wanted to see you in his office.”

“Now?”

“Whenever you can.”

Taly nodded, and because it was only her first day home, and she wanted to keep that peace, she went to her toes and kissed his cheek.

He caught her mouth when she pulled back. Kissed her again, then once more like a thief sneaking seconds.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, still close.

She smirked. “I am a delight.”

“You know, some people just nap after surgery.”

“Sounds boring.” As she stepped back, their hands brushed and caught—fingers curling, then slipping free. “Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do if I did rest.”

Skye huffed. “I’d celebrate,” he muttered to himself. “Sleep. Maybe stop aging prematurely.”

She walked away without turning back, letting him pretend he meant every word. He was smiling, so clearly, she wasn’t that hard to live with.

With a very well-fed Marshmallow cradled in her arms—Taly had found him hopping merrily around the kitchen when she went to brew her nightly cup of mint tea—she trudged up the grand staircase that spiraled through the center of the townhouse. Hallways branched off it, leading away left and right.

The townhouse was exactly the way she remembered it, and yet… different. Smaller, somehow. Like she had grown, and the space hadn’t grown with her.

Still, it was home. The sense of belonging was undeniable, even if the edges didn’t align quite like they used to. The creak of the floorboards, the scent of aged wood and herbs—it all whispered familiarity.

She stepped off the stairs on the third floor, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpets as she padded down the hall. At the end of it, Ivain’s study door was closed.

It opened a moment later, and Aiden appeared. His eyes widened when he saw her.

“Hey,” he said, an odd expression on his face. Like he couldn’t decide how to greet her: as a healer or a friend. “I’m surprised you’re still up.”

A friend, it seemed. A healer would’ve admonished her for not getting enough rest.

“Not for much longer,” she said. “Ivain wanted to see me.”

An awkward silence fell.

“I was just—” Aiden began, but Taly caught his sleeve as he moved to push by.

“Thank you,” she said. “I hear you saved my life again. You keep doing that. First with the harpy and now with the Earthlung. I swear I didn’t used to need this much medical attention.”

Aiden ducked his head. “It’s nothing.”

“I would be dead without you. That’s not nothing. You’re a good healer. And an even better friend. A better one than I probably deserve.” Marshmallow wriggled in her arms. She shifted him higher. “I wanted to say—I know it was you who told them about my magic.”

“Yeah, about that,” he said. “It was an accident. Skye, he—”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not angry. I never should’ve asked you to keep that secret, and I’m sorry, Aiden. I’m so sorry I put that burden on you.”

Aiden was silent, and again, she got the feeling that he was trying to figure out how to address her, nervous to get it wrong. He asked, “Have you talked to them yet?” with a glance at the door to his back.

“About what?” It had been a long day. Many secrets had been revealed. He was going to have to be more specific.

But Aiden just smiled and shook his head. “That’s a no then.”

Taly arched a brow in question.

“Believe me, you would know what I was talking about if they had already told you.” He squeezed her shoulder as he pushed by. “You should talk to them. Then come find me.”

He gave her one last smile before disappearing down the hall.

Taly stared after him a moment. Then she rapped on the door with a knuckle. Ivain’s voice called from the other side— come in —and she pushed it open, closing it behind her.

Inside, the room was grand but cozy, illuminated by the flickering warmth of green glass firelamps hanging on the walls.

A massive oaken desk sat in front of a wall of books that flowed from floor to ceiling, the higher shelves only accessible by two brass staircases that met at the top to form a mezzanine level.

A fire roared merrily in a large marble hearth, and in front of it, Ivain and Sarina sat at opposite ends of the couch.

As Taly drew nearer, she saw the reason why. Calcifer was between them, sprawled across the cushions with his head in Sarina’s lap.

Taly smiled. “I think he likes you.”

“He likes heat,” Sarina corrected. “Watch this.”

Flames jumped in the fireplace, and Calcifer was there in a second, shifting and folding in on himself to fit inside the hearth. He scraped and scratched, throwing up ash as he made himself a nest.

He grew up in a land of eternal summer. Taly supposed it was jarring coming to this wet, cold place.

Sarina patted the newly freed space on the couch, welcoming Taly with an arm across her shoulders as she sank down between them.

“It’s been a long day, I know,” Ivain said. “But there’s one more story to tell.”

“And we wanted you to hear this from us.” Sarina gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. “As much as we tried to keep it under wraps, one of the maids got wind. The whole house will likely know by tomorrow morning.”

Ivain reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. Taly let Marshmallow squirm free before taking it.

It was a glamograph. Old, faded, and creased down the center. But the image was clear: a Highborn girl with shining gray eyes stood next to a wall covered in ivy. She wore pink roses in her hair, and a wide smile split her face. A face that, at first glance, Taly nearly confused for her own.

It took her a moment to see that the mouth wasn’t quite right, the jaw too square, the hair a slightly lighter shade of yellow.

Taly flipped over the picture. “Breena Bryer,” she read. It didn’t click at first. “Age 17.”

She turned the image back over. The realization came. It took a moment for her mind to conjure the appropriate word to accompany it.

Mother.

This was… her mother.