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Their gazes met and held.

“I think we’re done for today,” Taly said.

“I think we are,” Aimee replied hoarsely.

Then, with synchronized wounded dignity, Taly turned sharply one way, Aimee stiffly the other.

Leaving Aiden, still sitting on the bench. “Great talk, everyone. I’ll just be… here.” He glanced between their retreating backs. “I still need a spotter.”

The basement smelled like dust and time—old wood, dry parchment, and the faint metallic tang of forgotten trinkets.

Shelves sagged under the weight of books.

Crates overflowed with things too valuable or sentimental to throw away.

Along one wall, armoires bulged, their doors barely closing around centuries of old clothing waiting to come back into style.

Taly sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor, surrounded by open boxes and half-sorted piles of junk.

A faded stuffed gryphon, missing a button eye, sat beside an ornate glass spyglass, the lens fogged with age.

A bundle of her mother’s childhood ribbons, still tied in neat little bows, was tangled up with a string of pearls that had lost their luster.

A tarnished candelabrum leaned precariously against a stack of old schoolbooks—some hers, some Skye’s, some belonging to people long gone.

She wasn’t sulking. She was organizing. Because that was productive.

That was useful . And it wasn’t like she had much else to do.

She wasn’t needed at the healing park until later.

She couldn’t scry. Is the grimble dead, Ivain had asked the last time she’d brought it up. No? Then there was her answer.

At least down here, buried under decades of dust and discarded history, there was no one watching her. No one tilting their head just so, hesitating before asking the inevitable, Are you okay? As if the answer would be any different this time.

Of course, she was. Why wouldn’t she be?

She’d escaped the grimble. No blood, no lasting damage. The only problem was how everyone kept making such a big damn deal about it.

A sharp knock echoed through the basement, making Taly jump. She hadn’t realized how quiet it had become.

“Go away, Skye,” she called out, voice tight. He was probably just checking to make sure there was a dreamspindle within range. He’d been installing them everywhere—in every room, over every bed, closing off any chance she had of slipping around the rule.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Skye’s familiar silhouette filling the doorway.

“Uh, hi,” Aimee said, a bit hesitant, ducking to peer down into the basement gloom.

Taly turned back to the chipped teacup, turning it over in her palm before setting it in the ask Sarina pile. It looked like junk, but she wasn’t making that mistake again. “What do you want?”

Aimee stepped onto the first stair, the wood groaning beneath her striders. “You weren’t at the training hall this morning.”

Taly didn’t look up. “Observant as ever.”

“It’s not like you to miss a session.” Aimee crossed her arms, trying to appear casual, but her posture was too tense, her eyes searching.

“We’re done,” Taly said, the words flat and final.

Aimee frowned. “Done? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means ,” Taly said, holding up a painting of a woman who had her nose, “that I’m not training you anymore. No more workouts, no more water whips, no more protein shakes that taste like goblin piss. We’re done .”

She heard Aimee shift her weight, hopefully to leave. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that lucky.

“I don’t accept that.”

Taly barked out a laugh. “Well, that’s too fucking bad.” She dragged over the next crate, prying off the lid with unnecessary force. It came away with a groan and a spray of dust that made her cough. “I told you, I’m not wasting my time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

“And who said I don’t appreciate you?” Aimee demanded.

“Gee, I don’t know,” Taly drawled. “Your tone, your body language, all that crap you yelled at me.”

A scoff. “Like you even care. I thought you were glad you weren’t her.”

Taly didn’t bother answering. She was done with this conversation.

“So what then?” Aimee snapped. “You’re just going to punish me? Is that it?”

Taly sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Go. Away.”

But the steps groaned again. Before Taly could react, Aimee shoved the crate aside, knocking over a stack of books and scattering the carefully sorted piles. Then she plopped herself down, right in front of her, grabbing Taly’s hands before she could pull away.

“Hey—” Taly started to protest.

“Just shut up and do what I tell you.” Aimee’s voice was firm, brooking no argument.

Taly tried to pull back, but Aimee tightened her grip, flattening their palms together. “Just follow .”

She clapped their hands together—once, firm—then dragged Taly’s palm down her own until their fingertips brushed.

“Despite what you and Aiden seem to think, I also happen to know a thing or two about biology.” Next, she tapped their knuckles together before nudging Taly’s fingers outward with her own.

One more clap, then the final move involved catching the other’s wrist. “The brain is not the only place the body stores memory.”

She did it again.

Clap. Slide. Tap. Clap. Catch.

“Do something enough times,” Aimee said, forcing Taly’s hands into another sharp clap. “And it stops being a thought. Just becomes… movement.”

Clap. Slide. Tap. Clap. Catch.

“This is stupid,” Taly muttered.

“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble with that big brain of yours.”

Clap. Slide. Tap. Clap—Taly caught Aimee’s wrist.

She didn’t think to do it. Her hand just moved, like a ghost lived in her bones.

Aimee’s grin was smug, though there was a flicker of something else behind it—relief, maybe? “Knew you had it in there somewhere.”

Taly stared down at their joined hands. She felt… disconnected, like she was standing a step outside her own body. The basement, the boxes, Aimee… everything seemed distant, unreal.

“I…,” she began, but the words wouldn’t come.

She yanked her hands free, a sudden, desperate need for space, for air , rising within her. “I have to go.”

She wasn’t fleeing, not exactly, but she also didn’t waste any time scrambling to her feet and running up the stairs, leaving Aimee alone amidst the scattered remnants of the past.

She wasn’t Cori. She’d never wanted to be Cori. That’s what everyone kept failing to grasp. Cori was dead, and Taly was… something else. Something broken, something incomplete, something that constantly fell short.

Later that day, Taly was in the music room, sprawled across the piano, one foot dangling, staring blankly at the ceiling when the door creaked open.

“You know, most people use pianos for playing music, not sulking,” Sarina said, soft and teasing. She leaned against the doorframe, her fiery hair catching what little light the room offered.

“I’m not sulking,” Taly muttered, foot swinging back and forth. She just had an hour to go until she could leave for the healing park to get there half an hour early.

Sarina stepped into the room. A flick of her wrist had the fire leaping back to life in the mantle, casting a warm, flicker glow across the room. “I know you’re generally allergic to expressions of concern, but I can’t help but think you don’t seem quite yourself.”

Taly scowled at the ceiling, the intricate plasterwork a blur of meaningless patterns. “So, what? I’m not allowed to have a bad day?”

Sarina held up a hand, a gesture of peace. “I said nothing of the sort. I just haven’t seen you tear apart my basement since the butcher boy incident. And even then, you didn’t abandon it halfway through.”

Taly’s leg stopped swinging. She tilted her head back, eyeing Sarina upside down. “Wait, you know about Ren?”

Sarina’s smile was feline. “Did you really think I didn’t know about something that happened on my island?”

Taly huffed. Fair point . “Does Ivain know?”

Sarina shuddered and shook her head. “Oh Shards , no. If the boy’s parents hadn’t reacted the way they did, maybe. But you don’t get to choose your family. No need to heap injury on top of insult.”

Sarina looked at her, expression softening. “What’s going on? Is it Skye? Is he behaving?”

Taly rubbed her eyes tiredly, pushing herself up to sit. “No. He’s fine. Annoying and worked up, but I’m handling it.”

Mostly by pretending he didn’t exist. If she gave him nothing to react to, he couldn’t spin it into another excuse to dictate what she could or couldn’t do.

“Then why is my basement in shambles?” Sarina prodded gently.

Taly sighed. “Do I really need to say it?”

Sarina shrugged and leaned against the piano, draping her arms across the surface. “You do if you want me to help you. Otherwise, Ivain might accuse me of putting ideas in your head.”

Taly gave her a long, considering look. “I want to scry. It’s the only weapon we have against Bill. The only way to stay ahead of him, to force his hand instead of waiting for him to move first.”

Sarina tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. “Then why aren’t you?”

Taly scoffed. “Because Ivain said I couldn’t, and you agreed with him.”

“And since when have you ever obeyed every little thing we say?”

Taly just stared at her. First, she was too reckless, and now she was too obedient? Why couldn’t these people make up their damn minds?

“And you’re right,” Sarina went on. “I do agree with my brother that the danger is higher now. The grimble will come for you again if you give it a chance. But that doesn’t mean I agree with his methodology.

Men are emotional creatures. They never allow themselves to express anything, so those instincts get mistaken for logic. ”

Taly frowned. “What are you saying?”