“Are my parents and brother alive in this new world?” Yargen had mentioned ripples of change caused by her actions. Just because there had been a Vhalla and Aldrik when she’d left the Dark Isle didn’t mean they sill lived now.
“They are.”
Relief made her dizzy and a sound somewhere between laughter and a sob escaped her. There were changes, but the people she held dearest were still there. She could still have a life with them—the life she’d been robbed of. “Tell me one more thing: is there a new Taavin?”
“Yes.”
“Then I wish to return,” Vi said gingerly, a smile working its way onto her lips. “I would rather live one life with them than an eternity without.” Vi paused, then added hastily, “No offense, your magnificence.”
Yargen laughed in delight once more. She crossed over to the bed and leaned forward. “I didn’t expect you to choose differently.”
Vi stared at the watch around the goddess’s neck, realizing where it had come from. It was the timepiece Yargen had traded with Vhalla during that long, dark night. That meant the watch with Taavin’s essence was still out there.
“Time for time,” Vi whispered.
Yargen lifted her hand, touching the watch with a smile. “When Aldrik gave this to Vhalla, he bestowed on her his minutes, his hours, his days. I think he would be very pleased to know he was really giving them to you.”
A thousand questions danced on her tongue but she remained in stunned silence as Yargen leaned forward. The visage of Fiera melted away to pure light. The goddess placed a single, tender kiss on Vi’s forehead.
The air was sucked from Vi’s lungs as she fell backward and descended from the realm of the divine one final time.
The room vanished into a misty light. Wind sped around her. Her eyes dipped closed and—
Vi woke with a gasp. She jolted forward, covers thrown from her shoulders and pooling around her waist. The smell of fresh wood, sap, and the damp tang of morning filled her nose. It was a familiar, nostalgic scent—one she hadn’t smelled in a long time.
She looked around in the darkness. The walls were smoothed and polished. Overhead was a gnarled ceiling of decorative roots and branches that spilled down, weaving into the four corners of her bed. Across from the foot of the bed was a dresser, adorned with carefully painted portraits in gilded frames.
Turning, Vi peered at the candle on her bedside table. Her breath hitched as she lifted a hand.
The candle lit on command.
Vi threw off the familiar covers, standing. She grabbed at the sleeping gown she wore, feeling the cotton. She rushed over to the corner of the room. There, a pile of supplies was neatly stacked in the corner between the dresser and the window. A quiver she knew so very well hung on its peg, bow attached. She ran her fingertips over the fletchings of the arrows and the Solaris sigil emblazoned in the quiver’s leather.
This was her room. Everything was just as she remembered it: the clothes she’d laid out for her birthday hunt, the candle she’d struggled to light. That meant she had woken at the dawn of her seventeenth birthday once more.
That also meant—
Vi sprinted from the bedroom. Her heart was racing faster than her feet. Every emotion was competing for dominance within her. Yargen’s hold over her body and mind had been so slow that Vi hadn’t realized for how long her emotions had been muted. It seemed like it’d been forever since she’d truly felt anything.
A strangled noise of hope and fear escaped her mouth as she rushed into the main living space of the quarters. The couches were in a slightly different spot than she remembered. Or… were they?
Yargen said time had continued along while her consciousness had been in stasis. There were changes and variations from the world she’d come from. Vi shook her head, turning to the door that led to her personal study. Only one thing mattered right now.
She yanked on it so hard that it slammed into the wall as Vi rushed into the room. Every map was where she remembered. The table where she’d drawn them was as much of a mess as she’d last left it.
Five presents were stacked atop the drafting table, neatly piled and out of place in the room.
“Don’t let this have changed,” she pleaded.Let Fritz’s gift be a stone in the river.
Vi pushed aside four of the gifts and reached for a small parcel wrapped in black silk. It was feather-light and a had a black envelope slid under a black ribbon. Vi’s fingers trembled as she ripped open the seal on the letter—the Broken Moon of the Tower of Sorcerers. The symbol of the Tower was something she needed to change the instant she got back to the palace. She couldn’t look at it now without seeing Raspian’s followers.
But Sorcerers and the sorting of symbols could wait. Vi hurriedly skimmed the letter that began with, “Dear Vi” and ended with, “Your friend who cannot wait to meet and teach you, Fritznangle Chareem, Minister of Sorcery.” She didn’t need to read every word. She knew what it said.
Unwrapping the silken scarf, Vi found a silver pocket watch. She smoothed her fingers over its tarnished face. Her hands clutched it so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms and her knuckles were white.
Vi dropped to her knees, tears flowing down her cheeks. Every emotion rushed through her at once. It made her tongue thick and her words awkward.
“Narro haath,” she dared to whisper.
