Chapter 26

I regretted not following Ziola into the bedroom the night before, but I knew we had both needed sleep. And that would not have been possible if we'd shared the bed. I scowled at the cobblestones in consternation as we headed to the posh Azure District. Ziola had a hold on me unlike anyone else, and I wasn't sure what to do about it. This was more than simple lust. I couldn't seem to shut my mouth around her, even though revealing so much about myself was a terrible mistake. Some traitorous part of me wanted her to know everything, damn the consequences.

The neighborhood gradually transitioned from rough working-class homes and shops to the finest establishments in Sageport. Elegant carriages drawn by exquisitely groomed horses rumbled down the wide boulevards, their drivers natty in extravagant livery. A confectioner's shop window displayed divine-looking pastries and candy arranged with artistic precision, and I noticed Ziola's head turn toward it. I grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

Polished oak counters gleamed beneath glass display cases filled with mouth-watering treats. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the tempting desserts. The heady perfume of chocolate, caramel, and vanilla threatened to overwhelm my sensitive nose.

"What do you want?" I asked her.

After a beat, her back stiffened and she said, "I'm not hungry."

I rolled my eyes. "I thought we were past this. You can either pick something out or be stuck with whatever I select."

"The gods only know what that might be." She shuddered.

"Exactly."

Eyes round like a child, Ziola walked around the shop examining each case before selecting some bonbons. I paid for her candy and a slice of fruitcake, and we walked down the street chewing contentedly.

Ziola licked chocolate from her finger before wrinkling her nose at my fruitcake. "I don't know how you can eat that stuff."

"It's made with brandy."

"That's why you bought it? I should have known."

"Nah. I just like it." I grinned at her and shoved the rest into my mouth.

She gave an exaggerated shudder and returned to her confection.

We turned down a side street, and I led her to a door with an old iron sign that read "The Time-Turned Tome" in elegant, worn gold leaf. The windows were smudged, but the rows of haphazardly stacked books could be readily seen, and the heavy door had a brass doorknob shaped like an owl.

"How do you know this place?"

"Petra sells her sculptures in the Arcane Atelier," I replied, pointing to an art gallery next door.

The bookshop's door creaked as I pushed it open, and an elderly gentleman looked up from the fragile scroll he was examining. He peered at us over a pair of wire-framed glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose and his white hair fell in unruly curls around his ears. Putting down the scroll, he folded his hands on the desk.

"Can I help you?"

"Do you have anything on ancient magical artifacts?"

The proprietor's gaze sharpened on me. We were obviously not fae and there were few human magic wielders in the city. "Artifacts in general, or did you have something particular in mind?"

I hesitated, unwilling to admit our interest in the Eye of Oris so openly. If the auction house had told the Enforcers exactly what had been stolen, they might try to gather more information on the Eye. I'd planned on just browsing through the shop's section on magic, but given the general chaos, I suspected only the owner could find anything.

"We're with the Stardust Carnival," Ziola smoothly interjected. "They want to add something mystical and asked us to research real arcane objects so that our performance can be as convincing as possible. We were thinking of crystal balls or something like that."

The old man snorted. "There's no such thing as crystal balls."

"I thought there were stories about a mage who created a crystal ball to see the future and change the past," I said.

He looked down his long nose at me and frowned. "The Eye of Oris? That's just a legend. No scholar of the antiquities would take it seriously."

"But a legend sounds perfect for a circus performance," Ziola gushed and clasped her hands together.

I refrained from rolling my eyes and hoped the old man didn't think she sounded as ridiculous as I did. He must have had a soft spot for pretty women because he smiled at her indulgently and climbed off his stool.

"Well then, my dear, let's see what we can find."

Ziola and I dutifully trailed after him as he brushed dust off long-undisturbed piles of books and shifted boxes of scrolls, muttering to himself the entire time. Finally, he piled three large tomes in my arms for me to carry and handed a slender journal to Ziola. Leading us back to the front desk, he directed us to deposit the books so he could explain each one to us.

The first was a collection of children's stories about magic use over the ages, and it included a tale about the Eye. The second was a history of famous mages, with a brief section on Oris. And the third was a treatise on legends and their origins. He tapped the thinnest book with an ink-stained forefinger and said, "This is a copy of a journal supposedly written by one of Oris's students."

I peered around his hand to read the title. The archaic writing was difficult to decipher, but I thought it said Shadows of Futures Past. Ignoring that one for the moment, I opened the first book and flipped to the story concerning the Eye. I quickly scanned the story, closed the book, and pushed it across the desk to the proprietor. The other two followed suit.

Gesturing to Shadows of Futures Past, I asked, "Do you have any insight into this one?"

The owner rubbed his chin and studied the slender volume. "As I mentioned, it's not an original. I do not know how many times it's been copied or how many errors may have been introduced. So, even if you believe the author studied under Oris, it may be wildly inaccurate." He shrugged frail shoulders. "But for your purposes, that doesn't matter."

It did matter, but he was unaware of our purposes. I'd already committed the relevant passages from the other books to memory, so this one seemed the only source of additional information.

"We'll take it," I said.

The bookseller wrapped it up and handed it to me. "I hope your new act is successful."

So did I.

Back at the safe house, I tore the paper off the Shadows of Futures Past and squinted at the spidery handwriting with a groan. Between the penmanship and archaic language, this was going to take some effort to puzzle out. Ziola sat in the second armchair with one of the meat pies we had purchased on our way back and propped her feet up on the hearth.

"What does it say?"

I took a swallow of ale and slowly read:

In the thirty-fourth year of the Great Pact, I, Jeremiah, did find myself under the tutelage of the venerable sorcerer Oris. ‘Twas a time of great upheaval and uncertainty, with kingdoms at odds and magic's pull strong and undeniable. In such tumultuous days, the allure of the Eye, a relic of unparalleled might, was known but to a select few.

The Eye, as I came to understand, held dominion over Time itself. Not as a mere observer, nay, but as a masterful conductor, orchestrating the dance of moments past, present, and yet to come. Under Oris's guidance, I beheld its power, a spectacle both wondrous and terrifying, as the very fabric of reality could be woven and unwoven at its command.

Yet, as with all things of great power, temptation did beckon. Many a soul would covet the Eye's abilities, dreaming of rewriting their own histories, of undoing follies or securing victories that fate had denied them. I pen these words as a testament, a warning of the perils that accompany such desires, for the Eye, in the wrong hands, could reshape the world in ways unimaginable.

"That's certainly ominous. Wasn't the Great Pact signed during the Celestial Confluence? I'm a little shaky on my history, but I thought that brought peace."

I looked up from the page and repeated information I'd read years before in a book Halder had given me. "During the Celestial Confluence, the stars and planets aligned in a way that amplified magical power. The high fae planned to use it to subjugate everyone to their will, but a coalition of races, led by a human prophetess, forced them to sign the Great Pact. It was a magical contract that compelled interracial cooperation, which meant the high fae wouldn't enslave the rest of us, but it did nothing to end war. Just ask Ralph. He was a mercenary for ten years and saw plenty of action."

Absently reaching for my mug, I returned to the journal and became lost in the pages.

Bleary-eyed from straining to interpret the handwriting and ponderous linguistic style, I stood and stretched. It was later than I'd realized and Ziola was curled up in the armchair, breathing deep and even. She looked small and fragile, sparking an unexpected need in me to protect her, even though I knew she could defend herself. I scooped up her slender frame and carried her into the bedroom. Burying my nose in her spill of auburn hair, I inhaled her sweet vanilla and lavender scent before depositing her on the bed.

As I turned away, she made a soft mew of protest and caught my sleeve. She scooted across the bed and tugged me down beside her. I hesitated for a moment before pulling off my boots and sliding onto the bed. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her close and kissed her temple. She burrowed deeper into my embrace, mumbled something indistinct, and was asleep again.

With a grunt, I pushed down my growing desire and tried to follow her into sleep.