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The guard’s grip was unexpectedly gentle on Emara’s elbow as he guided her through the cramped passage. By her side, the other guard, Durad, was decidedly rougher as he pulled Jai through the unadorned servant corridors. Servants in fresh white shirts and dresses pressed themselves against the wall, their gazes focused on the ground, before scurrying on their way as soon as the guards shouldered past.

“No need to shove, my good man. Save your strength for the bigger battles,” Jai said with one of his flashy grins. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to get these nits that’ve been plaguing me for weeks.” Jai gave his dark waves a scratch for good measure, and the guards grimaced before releasing their grip on both of them, repositioning themselves to pin them in instead—one in front, one behind.

Jai seized the opportunity to lean a little closer to Emara, his mouth frozen in a smile as he spoke without moving his lips. “When I throw the coin, we’re making a run for it.”

With Emara’s mind still seething over the magi, she barely had time to process what this meant before he turned his smile on the guard behind him. “Here, good fellow, a coin for your efforts.” Jai flipped the gold piece behind him, and Durad watched it sail over his head, turning as he reflexively tried to catch it.

In a blink, Jai slid out through a side door. So quick and soundless were his movements that Emara would’ve missed her moment to slip out after him if he hadn’t seized her hand. In a brief backward glance, she thought she saw the ghost of a smile cross the kind one’s face before Jai yanked her away. Her heart racing, they burst into an ornate, empty hallway, and Jai turned, sprinting full tilt down the corridor.

They’d nearly rounded the corner before Durad’s furious bellow echoed off the wide windows and marble floor. “Stop them!”

They turned down another hall, only to see two more armed guards coming from the opposite direction, and Jai lunged into a different room.

“I get the feeling,” Emara huffed as they raced through room after room of strange, stiff looking furniture and huge portraits. “That you do a lot of running.”

Jai barked out a breathless laugh. “Of course. How do you think I maintain my immaculate figure?” He smirked at her just as they took another tight corner, and he slammed into a body.

A tow-headed young boy went sprawling to the floor, a crown clattering across the marble of a regal ballroom. A pudgy, bespectacled fellow looked on in surprise, and what Emara thought was a flicker of a smile. On the far side, a guard sat slumped in a chair, snoring.

“Prince Merault, are you all right?” the bespectacled one asked, sounding not at all concerned.

“Of course I am,” the boy spat. “Can’t you see that, you blind idiot?”

The man calmly adjusted his glasses. “Of course, sir. How stupid of me to inquire after your well-being.”

Emara paused, her chest heaving as she looked from the boy’s murderous expression to Jai’s bemused one. Just great. They’d provoked the high magus, were fleeing the guards, and had just managed to trample what looked to be a horrendous prince. Wonderful.

Prince Merault turned on Jai. “How dare you.” He rose to his full height, not quite reaching Emara’s chin. “I’ll have you whipped for this, you dirty servant.”

“Worth it,” Jai snorted, his smile widening. “But you’ll have to catch me first, you royal ass pain.”

The boy lunged toward Jai, but he dodged, tripping him up and sending him tumbling once again before running off with Emara close on his heels.

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, sweat now sliding down her face.

Jai shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? We are free and fast and—”

A shout echoed from the room in front of them, and Jai pulled up short.

“And about to get caught,” Emara finished for him, her chest pumping.

Jai’s gaze flashed through the room. Deep voices shouted from both exits now, and Emara could find none of the servants’ doors leading into the inner catacombs.

Emara sucked in a deep breath, trying to puzzle her way out of this. If she and Jai were captured, they would certainly end up in the dungeon, the stocks, or the whipping post. And she didn’t have time for that.

Who knew how long she had in this strange world or what was happening in her own. She had to get back as soon as possible, but she had no weapon, and she had no idea where Bellaphia was. Anger started coiling in her. Anger at Everard for sending her here, for being a rotten ass, at Jai for coming up with this stupid plan, and at herself for not coming up with a better one. Her hands curled into fists, ready to lash out at whoever came at her.

But she was not expecting a light, almost musical whisper to reach her first. “This way!”

Emara turned toward the floor-length curtains, and it was then she noticed there was a balcony beyond the glass. Behind the thick cloth, a short, curvy girl opened a window-like door into the sunshine outside. She turned to them with a mischievous smile, her eyes glinting as she beckoned.

Emara grabbed Jai and yanked him toward the balcony. “C’mon.”

Jai pulled the curtain closed behind them, but when they raced into the warm sunlight, there was nowhere to go but the small empty courtyard below. They were on the third story, and the girl was gone.

“Hello?” Emara called.

Emara turned to see the girl had managed to climb one of the ridged columns to the balcony above. “We have to go up,” Emara said, already vaulting over the stone rail.

Jai grabbed her wrists, skin hot against hers and eyes wide. “And you thought my plan was crazy. You’re going to fall!”

“I won’t, and I won’t let you fall either. Now come on before they find us out here.” Emara tugged her wrists away with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. With the ornamental swirl of the column, climbing was easier than it looked, and there even seemed to be worn handholds where someone had done this many times before. One hand over the other, she pulled herself onto the railing of the next balcony before looking down at Jai who was staring nervously at the ground.

“I’m not great with heights.”

“No help for it now, Lightfingers. Let’s go,” Emara said.

A shout from inside finally urged him into action, and he scrambled up the column with none of his usual graceful ease. He made it almost to the top before his gaze strayed downward, and he missed the lip of the railing.

Emara’s hand flashed out. In one breath, she seized his wrist and nearly hauled him over the balcony. Floundering, he vaulted the railing to land in a heap with his chest heaving.

“Thanks,” he gasped, sweat streaking down his face as he looked up at her. “You’re really strong.”

Emara didn’t have time to respond before the girl beckoned them inside the glass-paneled doors. “C’mon, in here.”

Emara offered her hand to Jai, pulling him up before they walked into a large bed chamber with rich, emerald walls. The girl closed the balcony door behind them and snapped the long drapes shut. She turned toward them with an almost manic smile, her brown eyes practically gleaming under dark lashes. She wore a long tunic that fluttered down to her knees, its rich cobalt bright against her dark brown skin.

“I’m so glad I managed to catch you,” she said, a giggle bursting forth with the words. “Watching you lay Merty flat was the best thing I’ve seen in ages. I wasn’t sure how long I could pretend to be in the washroom before they came after me. He is the worst dance partner for lessons.”

For a moment, Emara hesitated. Catch? Was this girl trying to apprehend them as well? Her gaze swiveled, taking in the room. An elegant four poster bed dominated the center of the quarters, with a huge open wardrobe to one side next to the largest mirror Emara had ever seen and a spotless oaken desk in another. It didn’t exactly look like a prison.

“Um… thank you, for saving us from the guards.” Emara swallowed, hoping desperately she hadn’t misinterpreted this rescue. “This is Jai, and I’m Emara.”

The girl cocked her head, a black plait uncoiling from her elaborate crown of braids and falling across her cheek. “But I thought you said your name was Ioni?”

Emara’s brows rose. So she’d heard her conversation with Everard too? She got the sudden feeling that this impish girl who climbed balconies and eavesdropped on magi didn’t miss much.

Emara sat on the chaise lounge with a sigh, propping her elbows on her knees as she searched for the most simplistic explanation she could muster. “I was born Ioni Rao, but then someone killed my father and came after us. So my mother changed our names and hid us away.” Emara raised her face to meet the girl’s intent gaze. “And you are?”

“You don’t know? You really aren’t from here.” The girl hid a giggle with a hand, which made her seem younger than the sixteen or seventeen years she probably was. “My name is Chipo Abisa.” She twirled and tipped into a mock bow. “The second-in-waiting Time Heir of Okarria at your service.”

Emara sat up at this, her wide eyes flashing to Jai, who leaned against the window.

He nodded, but his expression was thoughtful, almost wary. “She certainly isn’t from here. But why did you help us?”

Chipo turned to Emara. “You said you were a Time Heir, didn’t you?”

Emara’s lips tightened, trying to gauge this girl’s reaction. Would she call her a liar too? “It’s hard to explain, but yes, I am.”

Chipo slid next to her, her hands hesitating as they hovered over Emara’s, her opal eyes glittering as she held Emara’s gaze. “May I?”

Emara managed a nod. If this girl was a Time Heir, it meant she was one of Emara’s ancestors. She wondered just how alike they were. How different. Raised in two very different worlds with the same gift. One celebrated in a palace, while the other ran from one doomed town to another.

The girl’s dark hands settled over Emara’s tawny brown ones. Her body soft and curvy where Emara’s was all hard angles. Her cold, regal undertones against Emara’s ruddy, warm ones—her round face radiating joy and curiosity where Emara only felt tired and empty. The girl closed her eyes, her expression smoothing into serenity.

Emara flinched as the yanaa trickled into her, slowly at first and then in a curious stream. Her eyes widened as she let it in, the cool tendrils coursing through her, the strength reaching out with tentative probing fingers, meeting and then melding with hers. Emara gasped, blinking away a strange dampness. They may have been of different worlds, but the yanaa was exactly the same.

The yanaa curled up to her face, caressing it as a mother might, or a curious child. The girl’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then she opened her eyes with a smile, the yanaa retreating as quickly as it had come.

“I cannot heal your cheek,” she whispered. “Not a mother, not a daughter, but indeed a Time Heir. We can heal everyone else but not each other.” A tear slid down Chipo’s beaming face as she squeezed Emara’s hand. The girl reached up and swiped it away, and suddenly she seemed so much older. “I don’t know how that’s possible or where you come from, but you and I are family. And I will do anything I can to help you.” She opened her arms and folded them around Emara.

For a moment, Emara stilled in the embrace. Though by all rights, this girl was a stranger, there was something so achingly familiar about her. The mother she’d lost, the sister she’d always wanted, the friend she needed. Someone who could see inside her and smile. Someone the same.

And it was that thought that finally broke her. She wrapped her arms around Chipo, strange desperate sobs racking her body, full of the feelings she hadn’t let herself feel for too many years to count. No matter what had brought her here, Emara thanked Odriel for the gift of this moment. Thanked that miserable, crotchety magus for bringing her here.

The thought of the dying magus brought her back to herself, and she straightened, wiping at her eyes and face. “Sorry,” she sniffed. “It’s just…” Her words failed her, and a hand held out a white handkerchief.

Emara blinked up at Jai, his face tense with concern. She’d almost forgotten he was there. She took the handkerchief with a grateful nod, and then noticed the swirling embroidery identical to the one Everard had given her. She raised a brow. “Tell me you did not steal this from the magus.”

Jai’s mouth curved in a half smile, eyes hooded. “A magus never reveals his secrets.”

Emara wiped her face, starting to chuckle when a flash of alarm sang through her. Shad was cursed for stealing from a magus. Had he…? “You know what he could do to you for that? Did you steal anything else?”

Ignoring her question, Jai turned to Chipo. “So happy that you’re willing to help, but do you have any idea where to find Bellaphia? Ivanora said something about the desert and getting killed.”

Chipo sat back on the chaise, her expression melting into a satisfied smirk. “Why, yes, I do.” She leaned toward him conspiratorially. “I’ve even been there myself.” Her face fell, a frown digging into her full cheek. “Though, I’m not quite certain why you want to see her of all people. Ev wasn’t lying when he said her mind is… different. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Just like the others.” She drew her legs under her and turned to Emara. “But maybe you can. Maybe that’s why Ev…” Her nose wrinkled. “Did he really tell you to find Bellaphia and then forget about it?”

For a moment, the air seemed to thicken as Jai and Chipo both looked at her expectantly. Emara swiped the handkerchief across her face again, slowly this time. By now, she was fairly certain that somehow Everard had sent her back in time, which perhaps gave a whole new, literal meaning to the word Time Heir.

Be that as it may, the very notion seemed too ridiculous to speak aloud. Although Jai and Chipo both seemed to believe most of her tale, she had very little idea of what would happen in the years to come, except for possibly Jai’s future. Which she seriously doubted he would believe.

And what if he did…? What if he took steps to avoid it or what if her presence here had already changed his future? What if he wasn’t turned into a cat and wasn’t around to save her from the Rastgol? If she was meddling in the past, was there a possibility she might somehow cause a series of events to erase her own existence? What would happen to her then?

And what about Idriel’s return? Was there anything they could do to prevent it now? Provided the others believed her in the first place. They could try to kill Ivanora, of course, but even in this time, she was obviously a powerful, reclusive magus. And technically, she was still innocent.

Emara took a deep breath, the thorny loops of logic making her head spin. The full truth was too complicated… if it was the truth at all. Everything she knew was still a half-guess.

Still, Jai and Chipo were waiting for her to speak, and she didn’t want to lie to them. “It’s… a little hard to explain, and to be honest, the details are… fuzzy. Yes, Everard told me to find Bellaphia… but it doesn’t surprise me that he doesn’t remember. Something happened, and there was this huge surge of yanaa, and then I ended up on the docks.”

Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes to meet Jai and Chipo’s gazes. Both of them looked unconvinced.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but that’s the only thing I’m really sure of.” Emara squeezed her hands together. “That, and I need to get back to my people as soon as I can. They were…” She sucked in another breath. “They are dying, and I need to figure out how to save them.”

Chipo reached out, lacing her fingers in Emara’s. “We’ll leave at first light.”

“Leaving for where exactly?” Jai asked, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Bellaphia lives in the heart of the Deadlands,” Chipo said.

Jai flinched, his arms flinging out. “Are you insane? That’s the one place the Lost still crawl. There are patrols of soldiers to keep people from wandering in and the dead from wandering out.”

“And they’ll be attracted to our yanaa,” Emara murmured.

Even where she came from, the Deadlands were a death wish. It was the place the Lost had first spilled from Idriel’s hand into Okarria, and they seemed forever attracted to their birthplace, pooling there like water in the crevice of the world.

She turned to Chipo. “But you were able to get there once.”

Chipo nodded. “There aren’t as many as the rumors would have you think, and the Lost are slow, stupid things. If we’re quick, we’ll be just fine, and Bellaphia has a yanai shield that protects her. You’ll see.”

Emara thought back to what Shad had told her of the magi’s yanai shields. It was what had kept Idriel at bay for all those centuries, and what had kept the man-killers imprisoned in Carceroc forest. But eventually, Idriel and his commanders had broken both of them. Still, in this world, both of those yanai barriers were still intact and would be for decades to come. How wonderfully strange to be in an unbroken world.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Jai planted his hands on his knees, bending to look her in the face. “You can’t be serious. I’d bet you a full purse when they went last time, they had a whole troop of soldiers to protect them.”

Chipo’s full lips twisted. “Of course we did, but we didn’t need them.” Her smile returned. “Besides, we are Time Heirs. Fast and strong and trained for battle. We’ll be fine.”

“This is madness,” Jai grumbled.

Emara stood and wiped her sweaty palms on her white tunic, a wash of fatigue coming over her. “This is necessary.” She offered him a wan smile. “But lucky for you, you don’t have to go. I’m sure now that the search has died down, you’ll be able to slip out of the palace as easily as you slipped in, with whatever treasures you stole from the magus.”

He crossed his arms. “Of course I’m going.”

Emara stilled. “No, you’re not. You said yourself it’s madness.”

“Yes, but I’m responsible for you.”

Emara barked out a laugh. “And how do you figure that?”

“I’m the one who found you on the dock. I’m the one who got you in here. If you die, it will be because of me.” His fingers drummed against his bicep. “And I really don’t need that keeping me up at night.”

Emara narrowed her eyes at him. “Look, I really appreciate your help but—” She stopped, Everard’s stolen handkerchief twisting in her hands and realization dawning on her. “Don’t tell me you’re just looking for another fancy pocket to pick?”

A smile curved his lips. “Well, when you put it that way, it’s almost irresistible.”

Emara propped a hand on her hip. If this really was as perilous as he was saying, she didn’t want to endanger more people than she had to. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Truly, why? What’s in this for you?”

“Running from even more things trying to kill me?” He leaned his head close to hers, his spicy cologne tickling her nose as his lips brushed her ear. “Sounds like fun.”

“Can you fight?” Chipo butted in.

He flashed his smile at her. “My dear future guardian, I’ve been fighting over scraps on the street for the last decade.” He shrugged. “And the crowds love some flashy swordplay.”

“That’s not even close to the same thing,” Emara muttered.

“Close enough for me.” Chipo stood and opened a door, still smiling. “You can stay in my lady’s maid’s quarters while she and I make the arrangements for our journey. We’ll need to be at the stables before dawn.”

Emara shot Jai one last glare before turning to Chipo. “This is too much. I can’t thank you enough for your kindness.”