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There were problems with most of them. He could tell which ideas she’d abandoned to move on. But there was one entry that caught his attention.

Kato pointed to the page. “This. Did you come up with this?”

“It’s in my journal.”

“I mean it, Taly, this has promise.”

At the top of the page were the words “Reactive Detonation Matrix.” Followed immediately by “working title” scribbled in a smaller script beside it.

His mind was racing with all the possibilities of how to stabilize the elemental flux, ensure compatibility with various magical energies, and safely harness the explosive potential.

Taly jumped from the top of the ladder. Her boots smacked the ground. When she was close enough to see which page he was making such a fuss over, she gave him another one of those grins he found so fascinating.

“I liked that one too,” she said. “If nothing else, it would put to use all those shadow crystals we keep picking off shades.”

“Why haven’t you built it?”

“Because I needed a shadow mage, and Skye refused. ‘For the good of the city.’ ” She rolled her eyes.

Kato scoffed. “Figures. He never did have any imagination.”

“Which is what I said.”

Their eyes met. “I could help you,” he offered.

“Why?”

“Because this is what I do. I take things off the page, and I make them work.”

“In your family’s factories?”

“Well, in their R&D laboratories.” Kato had apprenticed in nearly every department of the company before deciding on his niche. When he was still the heir, his training had been thorough. He’d spent the first 150 years of his life learning the family business inside and out.

“Okay,” she said with barely half a moment to consider.

Kato blinked. “Sorry, I was expecting a little more pushback.”

Taly shrugged. “Oh, make no mistake, I still don’t trust you, and I don’t get your angle. I just want to see my baby brought to life, and you’re offering to help me do that.”

“Mercenary. I respect that.”

“Good.” She flashed him another grin, and Kato felt his lips curving to match it, quickly rationalizing it as the simple excitement of meeting a fellow curious soul.

This was his brother’s mate. Even if he hadn’t known it already, the smell gave it away.

She reeked of him, and not just in the usual way.

There was an extra layer to the scent, an added depth that marked her unequivocally as “taken” with a hint of “hands off.”

Someone shouted Taly’s name from the townhouse, and she groaned at the sound of it. “I knew it couldn’t last forever.”

“What?”

She gestured up and down her body with a sweep of her hand. “Can’t exactly wear this to Kalahad’s dinner tonight. I have to go start getting dressed.”

Shards, he’d almost managed to forget. Needless to say, he wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s dinner. Best case scenario, he’d be seated far down the table, where he wouldn’t have to look Kal in the eye and try to figure out whether he’d been played. Again.

“It’s not even 2bells,” Kato pointed out.

“I know,” she said, tossing her goggles on the bench. “I swear, all men have to do is put on a clean shirt and comb their hair. It’s not fair.” She pointed to the armor, still on the chassis in a state of disarray. “He’ll be reassembled for you by tomorrow. I promise.”

“Take your time,” Kato said, unable to muster any of his earlier annoyance. As she walked off to answer the summons, he settled into a chair, grabbed the grimoire, and pulled it to him.

Taly arrived at Harbor Manor like a sunbeam. Suddenly, laughter echoed through the halls, and her curious spirit breathed life into even the most forgotten, dusty corners.

In the beginning, she was there just until Ivain could track down her next of kin, but a few days turned into a few weeks, then a month, and there was nothing—no record of her or her family, which wasn’t unusual. Human births weren’t always recorded.

Sarina fell in love immediately. Even Ivain, always quick to remind them not to get too attached, seemed to be thawing in the warmth of Taly’s glow.

Skye kept his distance mostly, wary but curious.

Like a lost pup tentatively approaching a new friend.

He liked her smile. He knew that much. It made the odd little divots in her cheeks even more pronounced.

More and more, he found himself trying to find ways to coax that smile out and discovered he liked even more being the reason behind it.

Then the Aion Gate opened, and Ivain announced one morning over breakfast that he would be taking Taly to the human realm to continue the search. Families often gathered on either side before the crossing, waiting to be reunited. Perhaps someone would recognize her.

Skye felt the first breathless wave of apprehension—as if the ground suddenly opened up beneath him. And he realized he’d made a fatal error.

He’d started to care.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. She’d just sort of slipped into his life, filling up all the empty spaces, and made all those old wounds start to heal. And now they were being ripped back open.

The day Ivain took her, Skye woke to find her already gone. He wished he could say he handled it gracefully. He screamed and sobbed in his room for hours. Worse than Orin, worse than losing anyone else. That pain was old, at least. This was fresh—a reminder of why he was better off an island.

By then, his strength had already surpassed Sarina’s ability to restrain him. She and the rest of the staff could do nothing but stand back, powerless, as he turned his room to splinters.

When he was drained entirely of both rage and sorrow, he retreated to the meadow to wait. It had the best view of the drive as it turned off from the main road, and it was there that Taly found him later that evening as the sun was setting.

Skye listened silently as she explained how they failed to find any evidence of her family. She sounded lost, lonely, unsure of the future.

“What’s to become of me…” she’d sobbed over and over, each cry a sharp, broken gasp that shuddered through her whole body. “Where will I go…”

In that moment, he hated himself. Because he saw those tears on her face, heard the ache and the helplessness, and he just felt so damn happy .

She was alone in this world. There was no one to take her away.

Right then and there, Skye made her a silent promise. He would make up for his selfishness. The humans had a saying—if you save a life, you’re responsible for it. And since he’d been the one to find her, then by her own people’s customs, that meant she was his.

He would be her hero. He would keep her safe. Always.

Skye surfaced in pieces.

First came the pain—sharp, blinding, and so deep in his skull it felt like something had cracked open inside him.

Second, the pressure—pressing behind his eyes, making his pulse pound like a hammer against bone.

Third, the realization—he was no longer in the tower.

The ceiling above him swam in and out of focus. His sheets were tangled around him, the air too fragrant, the bed too soft after the metal slab he barely remembered. He was back at the townhouse, in his room.

He forced himself to breathe, slow and even, cataloging the damage.

Migraine. Nausea. Full-body ache, though it was impossible to tell where the keeper’s work left off and the hangover began.

He’d kept burning through the anesthesia.

Two doses, and then his other-self had resorted to more primitive methods of sedation.

“Here, have some pre-op whiskey. Nature’s painkiller.”

Skye frowned. “What—” That was as far as he got before the wave hit. His whole body warmed like he’d just downed three shots in under a minute. Then five. Then—

Shit.

His tongue felt thick, his limbs went loose. “Did you just put liquor in the IV line?”

“I did, indeed,” the keeper said, taking a swig from the bottle.

Skye tried to glare at him, to muster some kind of complaint, maybe come to his senses, but the effort lasted all of two seconds before the floor and ceiling switched places.

His shirt was gone. Cori must’ve dressed him, replacing his blood-spattered trousers with new ones before putting him to bed. She wasn’t… happy , to say the least, when she came to.

A wail rose, high and furious.

“Nooo!”

Then Cori was there, moving faster than thought, launching herself at the keeper like a battering ram. They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and rage.

“I can’t believe you! You dumb, Shard-sucking, son of a—gah!”

She came out on top, fists flying, slamming punch after punch into his chest. And he… let it happen, for the most part. There wasn’t much she could do with just her fists.

“This was not part of the agreement!” Cori shrieked. Another hit. Then another. His other-self didn’t even flinch. “I said you could talk to him! With me in the room!”

His other-self spread his hands, utterly relaxed despite the onslaught. “Tell me where I violated the rules.”

Cori froze mid-pummeling. He had her there. Then her face flushed crimson with rage, her temper erupting in a surge of golden aether, whipping into a storm that nearly tore apart the tower.

But she got her key. The keeper tossed it to her across the room as she half-carried, half-dragged a limping Skye through the door.

“You’re a dead man,” she promised.

“Bite me,” the keeper growled, baring his teeth to reveal sharp fangs.

Skye cracked one eye open—and regretted it instantly. Light slashed through his vision, sending another bolt of agony through his skull. Fuck.

Somehow, he got himself upright. His neck protested with a sharp, white-hot stab of pain. He exhaled through his teeth and took stock of the room. The clock on the wall read 4bells. What day, though? He felt like he’d been asleep for ages.

He attempted to stand. The floor tilted precariously, and he gripped the edge of the bed, waiting for the world to right itself. His body felt alien, both sluggish and strangely… charged .

Something shifted between his shoulder blades. A new, unfamiliar weight pressed against his spine.