Page 38

“Ah. Taly.”

Taly stood at Ivain’s study window, watching Calcifer and Marshmallow chase each other below.

The first was a slightly larger version of the second with ears that were more bat-like than anything resembling a rabbit.

She let her gaze linger a second longer before shifting to Ivain as he swept into the room.

His coat was half-buttoned. He wore a scowl, though it softened when he saw her. One hand clutched a cup of tea—most likely not the first of the day—the other, a haphazard array of papers that he unceremoniously dumped onto his already cluttered desk.

Taly’s fingers twitched, desperate to bring order. She gave in to the impulse.

“Did you need something?” Ivain asked, more clipped than usual, though it wasn’t aimed at her.

“You wanted to see me,” she reminded him, assessing the sprawl of chaos before her—papers stacked at precarious angles, quills abandoned mid-stroke, and what looked suspiciously like crumbs near the edge.

“I did?”

“Yes,” she said, digging into the easiest task first. Capping the ink bottles. “At breakfast, you said, ‘Come find me in my office later.’ It’s later.”

“Oh, uh…”

“I can come back.”

“No, no. Just give me a moment to find my bearings.”

The meeting with the other noble houses and city leaders must not have gone well. His movements were sharp, restrained—a man trying to keep his frustration from spilling over.

“That bad?” she asked.

Ivain snorted as he shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto the nearest chair.

“Worse. I’ve just spent two hours listening to a room full of grown adults argue themselves in circles.

Half of them think the Dawn Court will swoop in like Shards-damned saviors, which, as you can imagine, makes discussions on how to ration bread somewhat difficult.

After all, why cut back when, any day now, the Fey will descend from the heavens and make it all better?

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear some of those fools want us to sit here and die. ”

“And what did you tell them?”

“What do you think?” he snapped, then caught himself, dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry, little one. Not your fault. You know, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this. You’re still recovering.”

“No,” Taly said quickly. Ivain eyed her. “I mean, please. I’m interested.”

She wasn’t on bedrest. Aiden had said she could move around, as long as she listened to her body.

But the rest of the household was apparently under a different directive.

No one would give her a task. She’d asked Sarina, currently drowning in the demands of keeping public morale intact—organizing food distributions, soothing tempers, and making sure the people didn’t lose hope.

And still, all Taly had gotten was a gentle smile, a pat on the hand, and three words she was starting to hate.

Get some rest.

She’d asked the maids next, but it was the same.

She’d asked the stable hands, only to find out they’d been instructed now to shoo her away if she so much as looked at a shovel.

The duel with Aimee had been fun, if short. Now she was left staring at the hours ahead, unsure what to do with them. She wasn’t built for idleness. It gave her too much time alone with her thoughts.

Too much time to dwell on how certain shadow mages now seemed to be avoiding her.

She wasn’t being paranoid. She hadn’t drawn any concrete conclusions— yet . But the evidence was mounting.

Skye hadn’t come to bed for the last two nights. Which was funny, considering he’d made such a big damn deal about sharing one.

If she entered a room, he was already halfway out, and that was assuming they even crossed paths at all.

Hell, he hadn’t really even looked at her since the night he had his fingers inside her, which, if she were searching for a reason, was arguably the most pivotal moment in their relationship to date.

And if she was being paranoid—which she wasn’t.

But if she was, she might be starting to think that, well…

maybe that’s where something went wrong.

She had no basis for comparison, obviously. So, the lack of feedback really was… troubling.

Maybe she’d made a weird face.

Or maybe he was mad that she fell asleep. Though that seemed stupid. He was the one that kept trying to get her to rest.

She kept replaying it, analyzing every breath, every noise, every shift of his expression—until her mind just felt tired with it.

Maybe Skye was quietly hoping she’d take the hint. Oh Shards, she really hoped that wasn’t it.

Ivain studied her for a moment. “Must be bad if you’re willingly signing up for a strategy briefing.”

She gave him a tight smile. “You’re the only one in the house who hasn’t told me to go take a nap.”

She was also starved for news. The world had changed since she’d last been in it.

Ivain let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the desk beside her as she continued tidying.

“I told them what any sane person would: defend the bloody walls. We hold the line, keep the city intact, and buy ourselves time to find a real solution. But no—lightships this, faith in the Fey that. Why waste resources fortifying when salvation is just over the horizon?”

Taly frowned. “The Dawn Court might come, though.”

“They might,” he conceded grudgingly. “But the Gates made lightships obsolete millennia ago. The ones they have now? They’re slow as shit and barely functional. If they’re coming, it’ll take years—maybe decades depending on the state of the ships. I can’t imagine they’ve been maintained.”

“What are our chances of taking back the island?”

“Slim to none,” Ivain answered frankly. “We don’t have the numbers, the weapons, or the bloody location of the bastard. And even if we did”—he gestured sharply at the makeshift war table set up in the corner—“marching troops out there would just be handing him fresh bodies for his army.”

“What do the scouts say?” Taly asked, moving a pile of quills into their holder.

“Nothing useful. Aneirin’s not—”

“Bill,” she corrected.

Ivain sighed and waved her off. “Whatever you want to call him, he’s not some idiot general sitting in a tent waiting to be found. He’s dug in somewhere, and he’s damn good at keeping it that way. The closest we’ve come to him is you, and even that was in a dream.”

She smoothed the cover of Ivain’s logbook. “So, that’s it then? There’s nothing we can do?”

“There’s always something to do,” Ivain said.

“So long as we’re alive, we’ll find a way.

We’ll hold the walls. We’ll fight. Every day we don’t give him what he wants—this city, you, all of it—is a day he doesn’t win.

Weather enough of those days, and the Aion Gate opens. And then… then the game changes.”

The desk looked marginally more presentable now, but the chaos of the war table pulled her attention.

Taly stepped over, brushing her hand over the corner of the map to flatten it before nudging a few out-of-place markers into their proper positions.

Red marked the undead forces, clustered ominously around the map.

Then blue for their own defenders, ringing the walls of Ryme.

Black were spies and scouts, some inside the city, others out.

And at the northern tip of the map, near the jagged coastline, was a small golden charm placed just beyond the line where the forest gave way to wasteland.

“What did they say when you brought up the Aion Gate?” Taly asked.

Behind her, Ivain sighed. “Most of them weren’t thrilled.

Too risky,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What if it doesn’t open? What if it closes too fast?

What if shades attack while we’re trying to evacuate?

” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “What if we just sit here like idiots and wait for Aneirin—sorry, Bill —to come knocking at our doors instead?”

The Aion Gate was a logistical nightmare, not to mention a costly drain on resources for what some might consider a gamble.

Holding the location meant diverting soldiers and resources away from the city walls, all while hoping the enemy didn’t figure out what they were doing.

If Aion didn’t open, all that effort would be wasted.

If it did, they’d still have to fight to keep it secure long enough for an evacuation.

Taly’s fingers brushed over the map, pausing near the Gate marker. “Do you really think there’s a chance it won’t open?”

“There’s always a chance,” Ivain said, moving to stand beside her. “But Aion’s been humming like a tuning fork, the leylines are cooperating, and the flux levels are stable. If it doesn’t open, it won’t be for lack of preparation.”

“And you think you can evacuate all these people?”

“No. Not all of us,” Ivain admitted. “But enough. And you’ll be one of them.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You expect me just to leave? To watch the city fall while I run?”

“You’re not running. You’re surviving . You know that. Besides, it’s your father I’m banking on to send the reinforcements we’ll need to take back the island.”

Her father. Taly still wasn’t used to the word. It didn’t fit quite right in her mind, like a new pair of boots that hadn’t been broken in. A High Lord, no less. And now, everyone’s survival depended on him.

Taly was mid-thought, still stewing over how she was supposed to matter to a man who had never met her, when the door creaked open.

She turned. Skye stepped in.

His eyes met hers—then immediately darted away.

“You know what,” Skye said. “I… can come back.”

And just like that, he disappeared as quickly as he’d come.

There —there it was. Proof.

He was avoiding her.

Not just distracted. Not just lost in his work. Avoiding her. She knew she wasn’t being paranoid!

Taly stared after him, her brows knitting together.

Two nights ago, he’d been all heat and hands, pressed against her like he couldn’t stand the space between them. Like she was something he needed .

Now, he couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.

What changed?