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Her gaze tracked over him. He wasn’t here. Not really. Just like the woods—he hadn’t come himself. He’d sent Luck to pull her into a dream instead.

A conversation without risk. A confrontation without presence.

He was hiding . And wasn’t that the most telling thing of all?

“So, this?” She gestured at him. “This is just convenience?”

His smile sharpened. “This is presentation.”

“And how does Kalahad feel about that?”

“Let’s just say, we have a… long-standing working relationship at this point.”

Taly huffed. “That sounds like a pretty way of saying he didn’t have a choice.”

He chuckled, warm and rich, the kind of sound that could put you at ease if you weren’t paying attention. “Oh, he had choices. He just didn’t like any of them.”

His eyes glinted with something vast, something unfathomable—like the depths of a dark sea, hiding monsters beneath the surface. And yet, his smile was welcoming, as if he were inviting her to step closer, to lean in and ignore the danger just beneath.

“Choice is an illusion, Taly. You prefer Taly, don’t you?

” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Not because you don’t pick, but because the picking’s already been done for you.

It always astounds me, the way mortals talk about free will.

Like it’s some shining birthright. But it’s more like a menu—you choose from what’s in front of you.

And sometimes what’s in front of you is… me.”

He was a fascinating combination of riddles, narcissism, and entitlement. Taly couldn’t look away.

“You’re looking much better than the last time we met. Less likely to keel over. How are the lungs?”

“Better,” she said. “Thanks for the warning, by the way.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Though I could’ve done without the mad dash for our lives through the forest.”

“That was Luck, I’m afraid. She wasn’t happy you destroyed her dreamscape.”

“And I’m sure you did everything you could to stop her.”

“Within reason.” Taly raised a brow. “You did shoot me in the head, darling. And Luck’s dreams are very… realistic.” He grimaced.

Towering above, Lachesis’ gaze cast eternally forward, solemn and resolute.

“What do you think?” he asked of the statue.

“I saw you admiring it. It’s quite a striking likeness.

Not so much the chin, but everything else is pretty spot on.

She used to stand in the heart of the Syballine Timekeep.

Time mages from every corner of the realms would come to worship at her feet.

If you’re moved to adoration, feel free to indulge.

The pull in your blood is not for me to judge. ”

It wasn’t a pull so much as a lingering sense of awareness. The statue’s eyes—they weren’t focused on her, but she still felt their weight. As if there was a presence there, beneath the stone, and it was giving her its attention.

She knew that gods and goddesses were real—Azura had confirmed that. And she knew, somehow, with equal conviction, that there was a kind of power in that which was ancient. Objects that stood the test of time, absorbing centuries of energy, both sacred and profane.

Whether that energy was what she was feeling right now, standing in the shadow of Lachesis… she didn’t know. It could’ve been an echo of the past, could’ve been indigestion… “I’ll pass,” she said.

He looked at her. Then his face lit up with realization. “Oh, I see. Playing hard to get. Smart.”

Taly shook her head. Trying to understand the strange things he said wasn’t worth the effort—and there were more important questions.

“In the forest, how did you know I was going to be sick?” she asked. “How… did you know to serve me my family’s wine? You knew who I was before I did.”

“Why, my dear, how could I not? Just look at you! You have your mother’s face, and your father’s… lack of tact.”

“You knew my parents?” Taly asked.

“And his habit of parroting the obvious. Good thing you also inherited his capacity for aether, or you’d be of no use to me.

And that is a dangerous place to be for one so…

mouthy.” His face remained pleasant, but danger lingered beneath—like silk wrapped around a blade.

“As to your… malady? That was easy. I could hear the wheezing. Wet, unsettled, like a primordial rattle in the depths. Aether sickness is more of a… dry gasp for air in an endless void.”

Luck reappeared, balancing a tray on one hand. Aneirin plucked up both glasses and handed one to Taly, ever the gracious host.

She sipped. It was good. The vodka was smooth, the hint of sweetness from the syrup not too overpowering. Between this, the delivery of champagne, the weird blind date at the dream tavern…

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to…”

“What, darling?”

Taly looked at him. “… woo me?”

“Oh, that’s because I am.”

“But… why ? I was out cold in the forest. You could’ve just…”

“Forced you into my employ?” he supplied. Taly nodded. “Well, yes, that would’ve been easier. But I’d prefer not to jump to drastic measures until we’ve exhausted all options. It’s simple really. This works better if you’re willing.”

He finished his drink and set the empty glass at the feet of Lachesis.

Glass clinked, beads of condensation trailing down to pool on the marble, soaking into the porous stone.

“The Rite of Ascension, which is a wonderful bit of spellcraft, by the way—shadow mages used to be creatures of such fearsome elegance, and then you just neutered them with political red tape. Historical tragedies aside,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand, “ascension takes an unfortunate toll on the target’s capacity to hold aether.

I need you intact if you’re to open the Aion Gate for me.

Otherwise, it’s likely to rip you to shreds.

And while a dead time mage can be useful in certain situations, it won’t do me any good here. ”

Aneirin smiled, as if this was all perfectly reasonable. “You see my predicament.”

Taly didn’t smile back. Oh, she saw it. Even if he forced her to open the Aion Gate, he’d still need a way back. Two trips minimum, and that meant keeping her breathing.

“The answer is still no, by the way.”

That just seemed to confuse him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration, “but you do understand what I’m offering you, yes? Freedom. Power. Safety .” His head tilted, like he was waiting for her to catch up to something obvious.

Taly took a slow sip, unhurried. “Yes, I understand.”

“And I stopped the killing. Just like I said I would.”

“According to Ivain, our walls are still being attacked daily.”

He waved a hand. “Projects in progress. Necessary work. We can’t just abandon everything halfway through. But I assure you, the fervor has been toned down. They’re merely… maintaining the pressure.”

She barked a laugh. “Oh well, that makes it all better. Quick, where can I sign. Can’t wait to do my part for the mass genocide of Earth.”

“Why do you care so much about Earth?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Have you been there? Talked with its denizens? At least your own people have their reasons for wanting you dead, but the humans of Earth… They would kill you on sight for the sake of being different. Why do you think your government goes to such lengths to maintain its anonymity in their realm?”

Even so… “I won’t have their blood on my hands.”

“Well, of course not. It will be on mine .” He pressed a finger to that pesky, twitching eyelid. “You do realize that without me, you will fail.”

Taly laughed. Oh. So now they’d moved on from diplomacy to prophecy.

“You want to know what I think?” She tapped the glass once, twice, as if weighing a particularly amusing idea.

“I think your entire plan hinged on a quick, clean takeover of the island—no resistance, no complications. And ever since that failed, you’ve been scrambling.

I think you’re stuck. Desperate to avoid having to wait us out as we chip away at that army you need to get your foothold on Earth. ”

She took a step closer, voice lowering. “I think that’s why you’re so scared to face me—because I can see you. Really see you. And if I knew who you were, I’d be able to find you. Pick out your thread from all the others and follow it straight back to its origin.”

Indeed, the threads leading to him, the threads of Kalahad’s life, were twisted and frayed, pulsating erratically, as if struggling to maintain their normal flow around the disturbance of Aneirin’s presence. It was impossible to glean anything from the resulting tangle.

He huffed a breath, not quite a laugh. More like reluctant amusement. “Time mages… always were horrible know-it-alls.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice was steady, final. “I don’t need you. I will find a way to save my island, and I will do it without sacrificing an entire planet’s population. You can take your offer and choke on it.”

The air around him changed—not suddenly, not visibly, but like a storm rolling in. Suddenly the space between them felt smaller. This was not a man who heard the word “ no ” often.

“It’s been an age,” he drawled, low and lethal, “since someone had the gall to speak to me with the disrespect you so freely offer.”

Taly savored another sip of smooth vodka. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“In all my years, I’ve never wanted to snuff out someone’s existence so badly.”

“But you won’t,” she said, staring up at him defiantly. “You can’t. You need me.”

“Never say never, darling. I intended to pull this off initially without your involvement. Perhaps it’s time to go back to the original plan.”

He lifted a hand. Taly didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. Only smiled.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a male voice warned.

“Right on time,” she said, turning to find Kato at the opposite end of the hall.

Amber eyes blazed, fixed on Kalahad’s raised hand.

“Kal.” Kato didn’t raise his voice, yet it carried across the hall. “I’m not one to cast aspersions, but the optics of finding you alone with my brother’s mate, away from the company of the rest of the party, are quite... noteworthy, to say the least.

Motionless, but not at rest—Kato was the kind of still that only came before an explosion.

“Step away. For your sake.”

Kalahad dropped his hand, lifting both in the air in mock surrender. The smirk never wavered as he eased back, unhurried.

“Taly. Come here.”

Taly finished her drink, setting it on the ground instead of the marble. It felt more respectful. Then with a parting grin at Kalahad, she quickly retreated down the hall.

As soon as she was near enough, Kato grabbed her hand and pushed her behind him. She leaned in, voice low. “That’s not Kalahad.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s Bill. He’s using possession magic.”

There was a scoff from the other side of the hall as Aneirin muttered, “Truly, the disrespect knows no bounds.”

Kato’s head immediately snapped toward Aneirin, his expression going from disbelief to unrestrained fury in a heartbeat.

His steps were quick and measured, and before Kalahad could react, Kato’s fist crashed into his face.

Aneirin staggered back, holding his nose.

He spat blood on the ground as he laughed.

“Oh, Kato. You really are predictable, you know that? It’s the reason I chose you.

There you were, wallowing in your own misery.

A few digs at your brother, and you fell right into my hands.

You were always searching for a reason to see yourself as the victim, and I gave it to you. You have no room for anger.”

Something flickered in Kato’s eyes—shame, maybe. It was gone in an instant, buried.

He marched back across the hall. Grabbed her by the arm, gentle but firm, and herded her away.

“Wait. What about Bill? We can’t just—”

“No,” Kato said lowly. “One shout from him, and 20 guards will come running.”

He had a point. Here, they had nothing—no leverage, no power. Retreat was their only option.

“The offer still stands,” Aneirin called after them. “But don’t wait too long, Taly. Even my generosity has its limits.”

Taly flashed her second one-finger salute for the evening. “Shove it sideways, Bill.”

Aneirin laughed. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”