An unmaking, a before. As if the moment had never happened.
My finger trailed along the new rip, the parchment’s torn edge tickling my skin.
I closed my eyes once more, willing the parchment to mend beneath my fingertips. When I opened my eyes, the rip was gone, as if the last few moments had never happened.
To test my theory one more time, I focused, fingers dancing in the air above a page that smelled of heartbreak.
And for the first time, I saw the fullness of my magic in its truest form: the golden thread. I searched until my very soul released a shimmering yarn through the spool of my mind. My fingers tugged, ever so gently, willing my pull to change time itself.
The yarn yanked itself from my hands. When I flicked my eyes open, the parchment was ripped down the middle, just as before.
I’d always been a talented mender. I’d always thought it was due to textile magic, but perhaps Thomas had been right to question me.
I couldn’t just mend. I could destroy.
And it wasn’t simply destruction… it was a rebirth. My gaze lingered on the piece of paper.
I could undo, but I could also make new. Within the span ofseconds, maybe even hours, I could alter a small aspect of fate.
My stomach dropped.The premonitions. Another thread, another note passed from the universe to me. Another permission granted to alter time, to rebirth destiny, to make a new ending and change what had been planned.
I was most certainly a time mage.
And I’d finally found my why.
Thom would be overjoyed. If he were here, I’d probably boast. Maybe even kiss him.
But the notion was pure foolishness. The prince would be here in a few weeks for the convention. Although I would be presenting, I had already determined to avoid him at all costs; the wounds were still too fresh to be reopened.
I’d bleed from the inside out again.
But I could tell him what I’d discovered. I could prove to him that I ripped the parchment, that I had confirmed what he’d suspected all along. That I’d changed…
I opened a drawer, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment. My gaze caught on a cut, faded violet ribbon that sucked the air from my lungs. I lifted it, letting the fabric tickle my palm as it had so long ago.
I put pen to paper, writing about what I’d discovered about my magic and why I felt he ought to know. I slipped the ripped parchment inside the folded letter as proof. Before sealing it with wax, against my better judgement, I slid the torn ribbon inside as well.
I stood and made my way outside, avoiding Kelara’s curious glances.
On my way to the palace, my mind reeled with memories from over a year ago, memories I had hoped were long locked away.
Of late nights and goosebumps and damp linen and a thousand nerve endings on fire, my lips pressed to his.
And perhaps because it had been so long…
Perhaps because it was my first thought of him, truly, in ages…
Dread filled my stomach. Nausea rose, and bile climbed up my throat.
And I knew that within weeks, Thom would soon be bound and gagged, a knife to his throat, facing death.
And for some reason, I knew it would be my fault.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
How could the prince be put into such a position? And why should I be involved?
More than anything, I had planned on avoiding him when he returned to the Capitol. My biggest fear had been of seeing his self-importance from time abroad, gloating about his new skills, possibly with a new lady on his arm.
