“I was reading that Aion’s charging cycle is going to be pretty bad this time around,” she said. “On the one hand, the Gate Watchers think that they’ll be able to hold the connection to the mortal realm a little bit longer than in past cycles.”
“That’ll be good for trade,” Syn remarked.
“True,” Taly said with a sigh. “But that also means the aether is going to be fluctuating far more erratically than it usually does in the months leading up to the Aion Gate connection. The magical creatures will be even more rabid and difficult to contain than usual.”
“I guess we know why the Marquess has been so keen on repairing the wards on the roads as of late.” Syn glanced back at the nearly invisible veil of magic that shimmered just beyond the tree line. “Can’t have the mainland travelers comin’ face-to-face with any beasties, now can we? They might accidentally scuff their shoes.”
Turning back to her, he added, “By the way, I’m headed to Ryme. It’s not far, but you’re welcome to ride with me.”
Taly bobbed her head, still shivering underneath the blanket. “Thank you, Syn. I’d like that.”
Syn gave her a kind smile as he pushed back his hair, revealing the pointed tips of his ears. Even though he had too much human blood in his lineage to be considered anything more than a lowborn, he was still fey. His body could still absorb and refine aether, a trait that granted him both immortality and the ability to perform magic. From what Taly knew of him, he came from a fairly prominent family of blacksmiths back on the fey mainland, but he had never told her just how he had fallen into salvaging. And she had never asked. If he had given up a nice, stable life in favor of picking through junk and refuse on an impoverished little island on the outer edge of the Fey Imperium, then he probably wasn’t too keen on rehashing whatever had driven him to leave all that behind.
To that point, she could relate. The set of circumstances that had led her to abandon her old life for one that left her scrambling for enough coin just to buy bread on any given day weren’t pleasant.
“Boy!”
Taly jumped when Syn banged his hand against the side of the cart.
“Yes, uncle, I’m coming,” came a surly reply. A lowborn man whose age she couldn’t quite place emerged from the woods. Since most fey stopped aging after reaching 30, this “boy” could’ve been 30, 130, or even 1,030. His hair was dark and greasy, and his eyes were black, carrying only a trace of that strange, fey brightness that made the highborn nobility seem as though they were lit from within. Even though his face was impassive, his full lips turned down at the corners, giving him a permanent sneer. “What’s with the shardless?” he groused.
Taly grimaced. Shardless. The word the fey used to describe those without magic—those lower than the lowborn.
“Watch your language, Calo,” Syn snapped. His expression hardened. “Your father didn’t raise you to talk to people that way.”
Assuming that the boy had been suitably chastened, Syn stepped off the road and began weaving through the trees as he made his way back into the forest. “I just need a few more minutes, and then we can get going,” he called back. “Yoru said he dropped a crate of supplies somewhere around here—asked me to pick it up for him.”
Calo studied Taly as she leaned against the cart, his fingers worrying a small red crystal that he passed from hand to hand.
A fire mage, she thought, refusing to look away when his eyes found hers. Fantastic.
“You’re pretty… for a human.” Calo tugged at the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Taly tightened her grip, but he held fast, managing to wrench the makeshift coat away from her.
His eyes slid up and down her body, and she had to resist the urge to cover her chest. Even though she wore a white camisole beneath her stained, sleeveless tunic, she was soaked to the bone, and her clothing clung to her body, leaving very little to the imagination. She had leaned out considerably over the past year, and the lines of her ribs were as visible as the peaks of her breasts beneath the wet fabric. Nevertheless, she supposed she could still be considered beautiful. Maybe even desirable. She had often been told that her features were almost fey-like in their delicacy, despite the human roundness of her ears.
“How much?” the sullen boy demanded.
“Not for sale,” Taly bit out. Her shoulders shook as a violent shiver racked her slender frame.
Calo scoffed. “You should be honored I even offered to pay before bending you over, you little beast. How much?”
Taly met his eyes defiantly, and her hand moved to the pistol holstered at her waist. “Not. For. Sale.”
Calo sneered, but before he could reach for her, he pitched forward.
“What the hell, boy?!” Syn cuffed the shorter man on the back of the head. The blow nearly sent the fire mage face-first into the dirt. Throwing the crate he’d retrieved into the back of the wagon, he said, “Shards, you’ve become a right prick since the last time I saw you. That’s it—I’m fed up with your bullshit. You’re walking the rest of the way.”
Calo balked. “You’re going to make me walk so you can ferry some shardless back into town? Just wait until I tell my father, old man.”
A low, inhuman snarl ripped out of Syn’s throat. “My brother will probably thank me for saving your sorry ass. How you treat people aside, do you have any idea what would happen to you if you hurt Marquess Castaro’s ward? No? Well, let me tell you then. I’d give it an hour before you had two incensed shadow mages banging down your door. You’d be lucky if they left you alive and in one piece.”
Calo visibly paled, and he turned to Taly, his eyes wide and fearful. That got his attention. Even though shadow mages couldn’t cast spells in the traditional sense, their magic allowed them to control and manipulate aether. Everything in the fey world, even a mage’s health and well-being, was connected to aether in some way. As a result, there was nothing more fearsome than an angry shadow mage.
Taly snatched the blanket off the ground and stalked over to the driver’s seat. “I’m not the Marquess’ ward anymore,” she grumbled, taking Syn’s proffered hand as he boosted her up. She saw Calo’s head whip around at that, but his expression remained pale and frightened.
Syn laughed as he settled in beside her. “Keep telling yourself that.” Tapping the reins, he called back, “And Calo, don’t stray outside the wards on the road. There’s a wyvern prowling around close by. I hear they love fire mages.”
The young man was strangely silent as they began to pull away. Taly glanced back, and when she was sure they were out of earshot, she said, “That wasn’t necessary, Syn.”
“Sure it was,” Syn replied, chuckling softly. “My brother sent me that boy ‘cause he was afraid that all them highborn nobles on the mainland were rubbing off the wrong way. A walk back into town isn’t going to hurt him one bit.”
Taly shook her head but decided that she was too tired to argue. They both lapsed into silence as the mare trudged along at a pace that was barely better than walking.
Staring off into the trees, Taly let her thoughts wander as she gingerly fingered the pink quartz pendant that hung around her neck—the only evidence that she had lived a life prior to being found 15 years ago cowering in a pile of ash. She was only six years old when she lost her family, and despite the number of healers and menders that had looked at her over the years, no one knew why she couldn’t remember anything from before the fire. Usually, that wouldn’t bother her, but her birthday always had a way of making her feel strangely nostalgic.
They weren’t far outside the city now, and Taly could already see the hedges that flanked the entrance to the private drive that led to Harbor Manor. Often referred to as the crown jewel of Ryme, Harbor Manor was a palatial estate that had belonged to Lord Ivain Castaro, the Marquess of Tempris, and his family for just over seven centuries now. It sat just south of town on a sprawling piece of land that took at least half a day to fully traverse from end-to-end on foot, and as the trees began to thin, Ta
ly could just see the chimneys stretching towards the sky. By some stroke of luck, she had spent most of her life living at the manor, taken in after the Marquess’ young apprentice dug her out of the rubble of what she could only assume used to be her childhood home. The fire that claimed her family and most of her village had left a wake of devastation that spanned the entire western coast.
“Well, what do we have here?” Syn chuckled when they rounded a bend in the road. He jerked his chin, a wide grin splitting his face. “Care to say hello?”
Taly followed his gaze, and her heart leapt into her throat when she saw two familiar figures emerge from the drive. The woman wore a long blue dress that perfectly complemented her fair skin and auburn hair, and Taly could tell that the man was lanky and fit even beneath the heavy fabric of his greatcoat.
“Shit,” Taly cursed, pulling herself into the back of the cart and underneath the relative safety of the tarp. It was a tight fit between one of the crates and the outer wall, but she somehow managed. “Pretend that I’m not here, Syn!”
Syn glanced back at her, confusion evident in his expression. “Taly, that boy’s a shadow mage. He’s likely already scented you.”
“I don’t care,” she hissed in reply. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Shards,” the old salvager grumbled. “What kind of human nonsense is this?”
Taly held her breath as they passed. A thin sliver of light penetrated the darkness, and she caught a flash of a navy-and-gold sleeve as the man tapped the side of the wagon.
“Synna,” he greeted. Taly hadn’t heard his voice in such a long time, and it made her heart clench. Like hers, his accent was cool and cultured, not a trace of the relaxed islander drawl that she had become so accustomed to hearing over the past year. “What are you doing so far north?”
Syn laughed as he pulled on the reins. “Lord Emrys, Lady Castaro,” he greeted, bowing his head in deference to the two highborn nobles. “Funny you ask that. I’m transporting a load of scrap to trade at the Swap.” He glanced behind him. “And between you and me, I just picked up some very interesting cargo down at Lake Reginea.”
Taly clapped a hand over her mouth. Just what did that old salvager think he was doing?
“Of what nature?” Lady Castaro asked. Her voice was crisp and refined but somehow still laced with warmth. The Marquess’ younger sister, Sarina Castaro, was the heart and soul of Harbor Manor—and the only mother Taly had ever known.
“I’m afraid I can’t say,” Syn replied with a shrug. “Very secret. Very precious.”
“Is that so?” the man, Lord Emrys—Skye to those that knew him—replied dubiously. His hand grasped the side of the wagon, and his fingers curled underneath the tarp, blocking her view. “I must say, I’m curious now. What could you possibly have stashed away that you couldn’t show us?”
“Now, Skye,” Lady Castaro admonished, and Taly could perfectly envision the way she placed a motherly hand on his shoulder. Shards, how she missed Sarina. Even though the fey noblewoman made a point to keep tabs on Taly’s whereabouts, they hadn’t talked, really talked, since Taly left the manor. “Sorry, Synna. Skye’s in a bit of a mood right now. He and Ivain had to meet with the Sanctorum this morning.”
“I am not in a mood, Sarina. I’m being perfectly cordial.” Skye’s fingers drummed against the inside of the cart.
“I’d heard the Sanctorum was in town,” Syn said carefully. “I hope there’s not trouble. After the Marquess kicked those butchers off the island, I thought we’d finally seen the last of them. Do you think they’ve found another time mage?”
Taly tore her eyes away from the hand that was slowly creeping toward her. The Sanctorum was a special task force sanctioned by the Dawn Court. They had a single purpose: to hunt down and kill time mages and their sympathizers. If they were back, that didn’t bode well for the little island.
“No,” Sarina replied hastily. “Shards, no. They’re just here to investigate a few rumors. Apparently, there’s been talk that someone is trying to sell time crystals in the backrooms of the Swap.”
Syn shook his head. “Rumors are all they had last time, but that didn’t stop them from burning our villages. It’s a miracle your Taly managed to survive.”
“We’re keeping a very close eye on them,” Skye said. “Ivain is even redirecting some of the Gate Watchers to oversee their visit. They’ll be accompanied at all times.”
“Yes,” Sarina added. “And even if the rumors are true, there isn’t anyone left that could use time crystals. All the time mages are dead, their High Lady is dead, and the Time Shard is gone. That means all of this fuss is over nothing more than a few pretty pieces of stone.”
Skye’s fingers faltered in their rhythm. “Are you sure we can’t see inside your cart? It smells… interesting.”
Taly’s heart sank. As a shadow mage, Skye possessed the unique ability to enhance his physical form by channeling aether. While many shadow mages limited the use of this power to increasing their fighting prowess, Skye preferred to use his magic to sharpen his senses. When they were children, he was always listening for changes in her heart rate or breathing, sniffing her out when she was hiding. She could hardly ever get anything past him.
Which meant that Syn had been right. Skye already knew exactly what, or more precisely, who was hiding underneath the tarp. Depending on when he activated the aether augmentation spell, he could’ve known long before she and Syn had even rounded the bend.
“Skye, you’re being rude,” Sarina admonished.
Syn laughed. “Leave the boy be, Lady Castaro. I’d be offended if he weren’t a little curious.”
As Sarina began redirecting the conversation, Skye’s fingers continued drumming against the side of the cart, only inches away from her face. So far, all of his movements had seemed nonchalant and inadvertent, but Taly knew him well enough to see through the act. In his fidgeting, he had managed to move the edge of the tarp just enough that she had to press her back against a crate to avoid the beam of light that threatened to give her away. His head turned, and a set of eyes so green they almost seemed to glow peered into the shadows, searching. A second later, he had already turned away to nod at something Sarina had just said.
For a moment, she considered reaching out and twining her fingers with his. The temptation was so strong that before she knew what she had done, her hand was hovering next to his. She quickly pulled back.
Bad, she silently reprimanded herself. Even if she desperately missed the man that used to be her best friend, she shouldn’t do anything that might encourage him to seek her out. She had worked too hard to distance herself from her old life—from him.
Skye sighed as he pulled his hand away, smoothing out the tarp as he said, “Well, Synna—we won’t keep you. Make sure that precious cargo of yours gets to Ryme safe and sound.”
Syn tipped his head as he urged the mare forward, and Taly breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the cart begin to move. After a few moments of listening to the creak of the wheels and shying away from the edge of a crate that dug into her back as they lurched back and forth, she crawled to the back of the wagon and peeked through a hole in the tarp.
She barely managed to suppress her squeak of surprise when a pair of glowing green eyes immediately found hers. Even though they were far enough away that her human eyes could no longer pick out the details of his face, she knew that Skye could easily see her with his magically enhanced senses. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he said something to Sarina, and Taly couldn’t help but laugh when the noblewoman turned and whacked him on the back of the head. Gathering up her skirts, Sarina ran ahead, stopping to call back to him when he didn’t increase his pace.
“You can come out now,” Syn said when they passed another bend in the road. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Unless you plan to hide back there all day.”
“Uh… yeah,” she mumbled as she crawled back into the driver’s seat beside Syn. It had been almost a y
ear since she’d seen Skye in person, and it was by far the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she was six and he was ten. She had half-expected him to come running after them, but when she looked back, the road behind them was empty.
“Shards, girlie.” Syn nudged her with his shoulder. “I’ve known you and that boy since you were younglings. Why don’t you put everyone out of their misery and just talk to him? I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but surely it can’t be all that bad.”
“It’s… complicated, Syn,” Taly replied quietly. That certainly wasn’t a lie.
She slouched down in the seat and closed her eyes. On days like today, it was certainly tempting to give in to the ever-present urge to just go home—back to her old life at the manor.
But she couldn’t.
She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t allow herself to get too close to the people who had shown her kindness in a world that had so little left to give.
The girl they knew was gone, and no matter what, she could never tell them why.
Chapter 2
-An excerpt from Long May She Reign: The Rise and Fall of the Last Queen of Time
Once hailed as the greatest sovereign of the modern age, Queen Raine was a visionary and a philanthropist, a dedicated scholar. A remarkable woman whose final act nearly destroyed an empire.
No one can say why she chose to close the gates, but in the wake of the great disaster—the day many are now calling the Schism—the High Lord and Lady of Earth and Air consolidated their power under the name of the Dawn Court. They created the Sanctorum and declared war upon Queen Raine and her time mages, ushering in an era of fear and bloodshed that has never been rivaled.
With a sigh, Taly pushed open the door to the drafty little room she now called home. It wasn’t much—only a few flecks of paint still clung to the walls, the roof leaked, and stacks of old books she’d found around the gates took the place of furniture. Nevertheless, the rent was cheap, and the woman who managed the tavern downstairs generally did a pretty good job of keeping the riffraff away from the second-floor rooms.
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