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“Do you always look this despondent when he leaves a room, or is that a new development?” Ivain’s voice pulled her attention back to the war table. He glanced up, his hands busy rearranging markers.

“I’m not despondent,” she muttered, fidgeting with the edge of the map.

“Oh, no. Of course not.” Ivain leaned a hip against the war table, crossing his arms with all the smugness of someone who’d known her since before she knew how to lie. “So, what’s the matter? Has he already forgotten how lucky he is? Because I can have another talk with him.”

Taly fixed him with a look. “Come again?” But Ivain’s smirk only grew. “No, no, please tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Don’t play coy, old man. Skye hasn’t been able to make eye contact with me in two days. What did you say to him?”

“Nothing too dramatic,” Ivain said, his tone maddeningly casual. “I just made sure he knew what was expected of him. Respect, care, proper attention…”

“Was there a sword involved?”

“I… might’ve had it with me.”

Taly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable.”

Ivain chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. He’d been very disappointed when she failed to bring home boys for him to torture. It seemed he was making up for lost time. “I will have you know that Skye was annoyingly unflappable despite my best efforts.”

Then what the hell was wrong with him?

The frustration must’ve shown because Ivain said, “You know how he is, Taly. When Skye’s not around, it’s because he’s buried in something.

Nothing else exists, just whatever problem has its claws in him.

He’s even worse when it’s something for you.

Won’t stop, won’t sleep—won’t quit until it’s perfect. ”

“Wait—something for me?” Her curiosity was officially piqued. “What kind of something?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure,” he said, tapping her on the nose. “Just have patience.”

She rolled her eyes. She hated being patient. “Are you ever going to tell me why I’m here?”

“Ah. Yes.” He crossed the room. On the corner of his desk was a stack of books waiting, their spines already cracked from years of use.

“I pulled a few things I thought might help. They’re basic,” he said, almost apologetically.

“Time magic principles, foundation work. Didn’t know how far along you were, but you know what I always say.

Fundamentals first. You can’t build anything worth keeping without them. ”

Taly smiled faintly, crossing her arms as she watched him extoll the virtues of each book. She could still remember being eight years old, perched on the edge of the kitchen table, while he explained the mechanics of fletching an arrow. His voice had the same patient cadence now as it did then.

“This one’s good for practical application,” he continued, thumbing through the pages. “Covers time loops, localized freezes—basic mechanics. And this one”—he tapped a slimmer volume—“explains temporal signatures. Might be worth—”

She let him go on for a while longer before finally raising her hand, golden threads of magic unfurling from her fingers like ribbons in the air. The room shifted as they wove together into a shimmering, translucent dome.

Outside the shimmer, motion halted—sound, air, time itself.

Ivain blinked, looking up. “What the—?”

“Localized freeze,” she said, lowering her hand as the threads vanished. “I’ve got that one down.”

His mouth opened, then shut again as he studied her, clearly recalibrating. “You could’ve told me that before I wasted my breath for ten minutes.”

She shrugged, mouth quirking at one corner. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

He snorted, closing the book with a snap. “Fine. Show-off. But if you’ve got that much down, why don’t you pick something from here you don’t know?”

Her smile widened as she stepped closer to the table, eyeing the stack of books. “Challenge accepted.”

An hour later, she and Ivain were deep in the weeds of a lively, and at times borderline aggressive, debate on Ripple Avoidance Theory when the door creaked open.

A maid peeked her head in.

“This just came for you, little miss,” the moon-faced beauty said, executing a perfectly graceful curtsy despite the heavy crate in her arms. With a small “oof,” she deposited it on Ivain’s desk, offered another curtsy, and slipped away.

Taly frowned, stepping up to the desk. The crate was well-crafted, smooth wood, no markings.

But her gaze snagged first on the folded piece of parchment resting on top.

The edges were sealed with a wax stamp she didn’t recognize.

The handwriting was unmistakably elegant.

Each letter of her name looped with precision.

She picked up the note, running a thumb over the seal before breaking it open. As her eyes scanned the lines, Ivain worked the crate open with a knife pulled from his desk drawer.

“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised news is already getting around that you’re back. We’re all stuck inside the same four walls.

All people do is gossip.” A low whistle escaped him as he reached inside.

“Well, well,” he said, holding up a bottle of champagne.

“Someone clearly wants to leave an impression—and an expensive one at that. Does the note say who it’s from? ”

“No,” Taly said, trading the note for the bottle.

Ivain turned the parchment over in his hands, inspecting the seal. “Huh. People don’t usually spend this much and skip the part where they take credit.”

The label was ornate. Gilded, intricate, unmistakably expensive.

Taly stared at the words written there.

Re-read them.

Again.

And again.

Ivain was watching her now. “I’ve never seen you look so spooked by an overly expensive bottle of alcohol. Usually, you’d be halfway through pouring a glass by now.”

But the realization was settling in. The air in the room felt too thick, pressing in like a vice.

Taly forced herself to breathe—but her lungs hitched. Patting down her pockets, she pulled out the airbalm and dragged in a breath. The sting hit her tongue.

“Taly?” Ivain said, quiet but firm. “What is it?”

“I know who it’s from,” she said hoarsely.