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It was a truth Taly had come to accept in her interactions with the Highborn nobility that no matter how heroic or extraordinary she might appear to them in one moment, she could always count on them to forget a human’s existence the next.

Their attention was fleeting, and that was fine with her. It made slipping out easy. As the party gathered on the balconies—glasses of expensive wine in hand, music playing softly in the background as the sun descended into the Long Night—Taly made her escape.

Skye never returned to the table, which was unfortunate considering she had about a million questions for him. Starting with, were live executions the standard entertainment at mainland parties? Also, what the hell—when was he going to mention that he knew how to dissolve a man’s skin ?

The bond was still quiet. The longer that silence stretched between their minds, the more she realized how used to it she’d become.

It was like when the aether grid went down, and there was that moment of sudden quiet—true silence—when all the noise of the house just turned off.

Only this was in her head, and the white noise of the fan she’d forgotten about in the corner was instead the brush of Skye’s thoughts against her own.

She needed to find him. He’d been off all day. Had he known this was coming? Was that why he hadn’t wanted her here tonight?

It wouldn’t be the first time he kept things from her.

There was a whole life he lived outside Tempris, and she only ever caught the edges.

For months at a time, he was in Ghislain, but when he returned—nothing.

She’d ask for stories, but every time, he’d just smile, deflect, offer some half-joke, and then demand every useless detail of what she’d done in his absence.

All she had were the rumors that eventually trickled down to the Swap. She collected them like puzzle pieces, though they never shaped a picture she quite recognized.

Without the bond to guide her, her prospects of finding him weren’t the best—this was a very large house. So, she did the next logical thing: wander aimlessly.

Bonus, it allowed her the opportunity to snoop.

Taly took random turns down empty, darkened hallways. She found a library, a greenhouse, and countless other rooms of little to no interest. Until, eventually, she reached a long corridor.

The evening sun streamed in through tall windows, casting long shadows over rows of display cases. Precious, jeweled, no-doubt ancient, rare, and magical items gleamed behind the glass. Some were large, some small, and some, outside the cases, were hidden beneath sheets that she peeked under.

Important men—men like Kalahad—always traveled with their trophy collections. They liked to look at them, to remember their exploits and revel in their own self-importance, and they didn’t care about the cost or inconvenience of lugging so much unnecessary junk around.

The corridor dead-ended into a left turn. Outside the windows, Taly could see lavish gardens, all in the height of bloom. The sounds of the party had faded entirely. She guessed she was in one of the farthest corners of the house.

Yet another hallway stretched out before her, filled with even more priceless treasures. Things that belonged in a museum, where everyone could enjoy them. Shadows, long and sinuous in the waning light, stretched across the marble floor.

The items in this area leaned towards the historic. She passed by farming tools, fragments of colorful pottery, utensils worn down by time—even parchments unfurled and stretched for display.

In the center of the path, in a place of honor, a statue carved from pure alabaster rose to tower over everything else.

Stopping in front of it, Taly stared up into the eyes of Lachesis—the goddess of time herself.

It was unusual to see one of her statues still intact.

Most had either been torn down or defaced after the Schism.

She was massive—two stories tall, at least. Great, gossamer wings lifted from her back, stretching out and over the room.

Gilded horns twisted above lovely, sharp features.

Intricate etchings and symbols covered her body.

Her outstretched arm held aloft an ornate scepter crowned with a radiant gemstone that pulsed with a faint, ethereal light.

Titans , Azura had called them—taller than the mountains they’d used as thrones.

Creatures of flesh and blood once, subject to the same vices and follies as those they created.

Standing at the base of the giant stone goddess, Taly could believe it.

It was a bleaker picture than the Faerasanna liked to paint, with their perfect gods who rained down perfect love on the unworthy masses.

But she preferred it. Or, at least, she was more prone to believe it.

If the Fey really were made in the Faera’s image, they were probably a little self-serving.

“You’re off the beaten path,” a male voice said softly.

Taly turned.

At the end of the hall, moonlight glinted off Fey-white hair as Kalahad stepped from the shadows.

A slow chill seeped into the room, thin but unmistakable, like a draft through an unseen crack. The hairs on her arms lifted.

Instinct sent a ripple of unease through her, like a cold fingertip tracing her spine. She was a human alone. That was reason enough to be ready.

Slipping a hand into her skirts, Taly found her dagger’s worn hilt.

“I got lost looking for the toilet,” she said with a bat of her lashes.

That excuse usually worked. She let her gaze flick over the artifacts surrounding them.

“Your collection is quite impressive. You must have a keen love of history.”

“The bits of it that are true, yes.” Kalahad trailed a hand fondly down a row of display cases filled with ancient tablets and parchments.

“Protect the remnants of the past, for in them lies the unvarnished truth. Otherwise, the victors sculpt history as they see fit, leaving us doomed to repeat it.”

He stopped in front of her, hands slipping into his pockets.

“So. What did you think? And be honest. On a scale of 1 to 10, with the option of going to 11, how delighted were you with your presents? I thought long and hard about what to get you for such a grand homecoming, but then I decided, why reinvent the wheel? Best to stay with the classics. Blood of thine enemy. It’s always been a personal favorite. ”

The masks were off now. His grin stretched from ear to ear. Taly searched his face—his eyes. Fey blue, but beneath them, she could see a familiar spark. A flicker of something distinctly other looking out from behind the glass.

Here in the dark with no other lights competing, she saw not Kalahad, but…

“ Bill? ”

He flinched like she’d just physically slapped him. “Excuse me?” His expression twisted, offense etched into every line. “Are we seriously still clinging to that dreadfully pedestrian moniker?”

Taly shrugged. “Would you prefer… Anie?”

“No.”

“How about Nero?”

A flicker of tension in his jaw. “I would prefer you use my name.”

“Which is?”

“ Aneirin ,” he enunciated.

“But what about Kalahad? You know, this is getting confusing. I think I’m going to stick with Anie.”

“I thought it was Bill.”

She smirked. “Well, if you insist.”

His fists curled. It was almost too easy to get under his skin. Then he exhaled and forced a smile. “I see. Well, if it amuses you to denigrate me in such a way, then by all means, continue. I welcome those who keep me… humble.”

“Your eye is twitching.”

“No, it’s not.” Though he pressed a finger to his eye anyway. “Luck, darling?”

“What?”

Taly looked up to find the last person she’d ever hoped to see again perched on the tip of Lachesis’ outstretched wing.

Well, maybe not the last. That honor went to Azura.

“Hey, kid. I see you decided to ignore my advice regarding a career change.”

Luck extended her middle finger in answer. It was a human gesture. One Taly recognized and returned.

Aneirin chuckled, regarding the girl with something between amusement and condescension, like a master indulging a particularly insolent pet. “I’ve got her now. If you would be so kind—vodka gimlet.” He held up two fingers with the order.

Luck sighed but skated down the slope of the goddess’ wing with lazy ease, like a child on a playground slide. Taly watched her disappear through a door camouflaged seamlessly with the wall. It pivoted open, closing without a sound and disappearing entirely.

Then, they were alone.

Taly wasn’t afraid of men like Kalahad. They were all bluster and ego, easily manipulated with a flutter of eyelashes and a well-placed question.

Predictable. But this ... this was different.

Aneirin didn’t want her body; he wanted her magic .

And that made him an unknown quantity. A threat that operated outside the usual rules.

The waning sun fractured through the tall windows, light pooling across the gallery—dancing over ancient armor, delicate pottery, and sculptures missing limbs. She studied the man she’d been sitting beside all night. The face was different than the one in her dream. The eyes weren’t.

“So… is this you then?” she asked.

He ran a hand over the fine embroidery that swirled across his lapel. “More or less.”

“Which is it? More or less?”

His smile didn’t waver. “If you’re asking if I was born in this body, then no. Kalahad, well, he’s like a well-tailored suit.”

Taly frowned. “You mean you’re possessing him?”

“To use a crude term of art, yes.” He said it with the ease of someone commenting on the weather. “It’s practical, really. Sometimes a different face gets you further. Opens doors. Commands the right kind of attention. One can never be outmaneuvered if one is never outdressed.”

“Most people don’t talk about bodies like they’re outfits.”

“Most don’t have the option.”