Page 40

It was official. Taly was in a funk.

Skye knew it from the blaring music and the scent of cigar smoke wafting from her open window. When he closed his eyes, it was just to confirm.

Like trying to pick up on a faraway relay signal through a haze of static—it was faint. But he could feel her on the other side of the bond, like an off-key vibration, the echo of a troubled mind.

He considered leaving her to it. She didn’t want to talk—at least, that was the feeling he was getting.

He was still learning how to sort through them.

Then again, if left to her own devices, it was only a matter of time until he found himself dealing with a full-blown Taly doom-spiral.

And if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that stopping those early saved everyone a lot of trouble.

The last one, after all, resulted in the whole I’m-a-secret-time-mage fiasco, and… yeah. He needed to get up there.

The metal stairs zigzagged up the back of the house.

A short climb later, Skye stepped onto the rooftop garden, pulling his coat tighter against the evening chill.

Plush grass speckled with wildflowers drooped over the planked wooden path that wound throughout the whole of it, weaving between deep-cushioned chairs, fruit trees, and raised wooden flower beds.

All around, the setting sun streaked the sky in dreamlike shades of orange, purple, and pink, casting the city below in warm light and long shadows.

“Taly?” Skye called, breath fogging in the cold. “I know you’re here. I can smell the ennui.”

By that he meant cigar smoke.

He heard a snort from the far side of the garden.

“Then why are you wasting your breath?”

Well, someone was in a mood.

Skye followed the path past a row of terraced ivy glowing faintly with green earth crystals. He found Taly on the other side, curled in a blanket on a garden swing, a cigar held loosely in one hand.

She glowed in the evening light, hair catching the color, skin warm. He drank her in, shameless and starved for the sight of her.

He’d made a rule for himself—since he couldn’t touch her again until she knew about the bond, it was safer not to look directly at her.

No eye contact. No lingering. No letting the bond heat his skin until it felt like punishment.

It was stupid. But it was the only thing keeping the need from boiling over into something reckless.

He should turn away. He was only making it worse for himself.

But he couldn’t.

His gaze dropped to her mouth as she pulled on the cigar, lips parting, slow and deliberate. So many of his fantasies had started there. On that mouth. The way it would feel wrapped around him.

“So, does this mean you’re talking to me again?” she asked.

Skye blinked. Shook himself. “I… didn’t know I stopped.”

She tapped off ash with an expert flick of her fingers, glancing at him. “I don’t know, Skye. Two days of radio silence is usually a pretty good reason to wonder.”

Two… days ?

No. That couldn’t be right.

Was she—was she fucking with him?

He rubbed a hand over his face, noticing for the first time the sharpness in his jaw, the unfamiliar looseness of his belt. Shit, when was the last time he ate?

“Well?” The cigar flared as she took another pull. “What do you have to say for yourself? Or should I just assume the worst? I’ve had plenty of time to come up with theories.” She glanced at him, one brow lifting.

Oh.

Oh, he saw it now.

He was in danger.

He was just doing what he had to—avoiding her, avoiding the pull, keeping his focus on the one thing still standing between him and the promised land.

But to her? It probably looked like avoidance. Like he was running. In hindsight, he could see it.

And she’d had two—well, almost three—days to let those thoughts spiral. There was no telling what she’d already found him guilty of doing, feeling, thinking .

“I was… making you something.”

Of all the things he could’ve led with, a gift was statistically his best shot in any situation. Taly liked presents. Historically, they’d been more effective than explanations, apologies, or reason.

She exhaled a slow stream of smoke, her expression unreadable, which only made him more nervous. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “I figured.”

“… huh?” Smooth .

“Ivain said I wasn’t allowed in the workshop. Connect the dots, Em.”

Skye huffed a laugh, relief hitting hard and fast. Right. This was Taly—she knew him. She knew how he could disappear into a project, lost in the need to bring an idea to life. She wasn’t like other women, getting mad at the drop of a hat.

“What I find more surprising,” she said, taking another drag, “is that you bailed right after we had that big talk about how I was afraid we were going to mess everything up… and thought a present was really going to make up for it?”

Shit. He wasn’t safe yet.

“Don’t worry,” she said through a lazy exhale. “I’m not mad.”

He sighed.

“But I could be.”

Damn it.

“That was fucked up, Em. You know how my imagination gets away with me. I just started thinking all these horrible things. I think I’m going to need at least two presents. Just to get me through it.”

Skye’s mouth twitched before pressing into a line. Right. This was Taly—she knew him. And right now, she was toying with him like a cat with a piece of string.

“You know what. Move over.”

Then he leaned down, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, another under her knees, and lifted her—blanket and all. She squawked in indignation, but he just sat back down, arranging her neatly in his lap.

“So, does Ivain know that you’ve already sniffed out his stash of cigars?”

Taly kicked and wriggled her way back onto the bench. “If Ivain didn’t want me stealing his cigars, he would learn to hide them better.”

“With that logic, I give it three days before the old man puts you back in the loop.”

“Asshole.” But her mouth almost twitched into a smile.

“So, why are we sad?”

Taly exhaled smoke, considering. “Who says I’m sad?” She offered him the cigar.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Skye said, taking it from her fingers. “Your eyes. Your tone. The way you’re glaring at me right now.” He brought the cigar to his mouth. The ember flared. “Should I go on?”

She clicked her tongue, stubbornly silent for a few more moments before she gave in. “I got a delivery today.” From beneath the blankets, she produced an envelope. It had no address, just her name written in a looping script. “It came with the post.”

He flipped it open. “ Cheers to your continued good health.” That was it. He turned the page over. “Who’s it from?”

Taly reached down beside the swing and held up a bottle of champagne.

Skye frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“This came with the letter.”

“And?”

“It’s the same champagne Bill served me in the dream.”

Of course, she’d named the enemy Bill . Skye couldn’t decide what was worse: the name itself, or the fact that Taly’s idea of diplomacy involved deliberately antagonizing the enemy.

He stared at the bottle. “That could be a coincidence.”

“Look at this.”

She handed it over. The label had delicate, ornate borders with the words Astral White Gold glowing faintly in the center. Beneath it was the location of the vineyard: Domaine de la Sirène, Earth.

The realization sank in slow, like cold iron. And when it did, his stomach twisted.

“This was made by House Arendryl.”

Taly nodded grimly. “He served me my own damn family’s wine, Skye. He knew who I was before I did. He knew about the Earthlung, about… about everything. And this —” She took the bottle back, grip tightening. “This is him showing me he also knows exactly where to find me.”

That explained the funk.

Skye hugged her closer, the weight in his chest settling deeper, like that cold iron had never stopped sinking. Aneirin knew where she was.

If he knew where she was, he could take her.

If he took her, she was gone.

If she was gone, then…

He swallowed back the rising panic, years of court training, of learning to mask every emotion, kicking in. His voice came out even, almost flippant. “So, he knows. Doesn’t mean he can do anything about it.”

“That’s what Ivain said too.” Taly took back the cigar, tapping away ash. “He thinks it’s just a taunt. That if Bill could really get to me, he would’ve done it already instead of announcing his intentions.”

It made sense, though not enough to put Skye’s mind entirely at ease.

He kissed her head, breathing in the warmth of her, willing it to push back the cold curling in his chest. “Nothing is going to happen to you,” he murmured. “Not on my watch.”

She eased against him—just a fraction, maybe without even realizing. That trust, that tacit belief, settled deep, bracing something inside him.

It anchored him in a single truth: if she believed he could keep her safe, then he would. Which meant that fear and panic could go to hell.

The rhythmic creak of the swing matched the ebb and flow of their movement. Around them, the sun’s radiance had softened, stars emerging in the deepening sky.

“You know,” she said softly, “I think I missed this the most inside the loop. “At the palace, I always had to be inside before nightfall. I never got to see the stars. Is it weird that I’m almost looking forward to Solnar this year?”

Skye took the cigar she offered. It was little more than a nub now, burning the back of his throat when he inhaled. “Shit, I forgot about Solnar,” he said hoarsely, coughing.

“It’s almost summer. Why did you think it was still so cold?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed the world was conspiring to make my final days as miserable as possible.”

Which, considering this year was Solnar, could still be true.

It only came around every few years when the slow-moving orbit of the nearby planet Caladrius conspired to block out the sun for 32 days.

That month of darkness was called the Long Night, and it was accompanied by a host of other celestial phenomena, as well as torrential downpours and near-freezing temperatures.