book title

In the end, with the captives and Carceroc monsters released, the Heirs didn’t have to wait for reinforcements. As Emara refueled their yanaa, Zephyr and Aza cleansed the city of the Lost and Rastgol before the next sunset. When the elder Heirs arrived with the rest of their army, it was under a full sun, with Zephyr, Aza, and Emara waiting for them at the gates of a reclaimed Austerden.

Both Kaia and Klaus Thane’s ages showed plainly in their weathered faces. Klaus’s hair was more gray than black now and a scar lined his jaw, but his back was still rigid and straight. Wrinkles gathered around Kaia’s eyes, and her coppery braid had faded to auburn. A red ragehound trailed her golden Dalteek, and her face lit into a bright smile of relief at the sight of her children.

And though Emara only remembered them faintly, Klaus and Kaia Thane embraced her as a lost daughter. They cried tears of joy, and then of sorrow as they learned of Rendaro, Everard, and Shad’s deaths. The survivors cobbled together the remains of an ancient city, of a people that had too long been held captive, and started to rebuild.

It wasn’t until the next new moon that they gathered to finally celebrate in the palace courtyard scrubbed of death with the gates thrown open to a star-filled night. The Maldibor, free of the curse, looked at each other with their still-green eyes, wondering at this new freedom where they didn’t count every 21 days for a night of restored humanity, and their beastly forms were now a choice instead of a sentence.

Still, in a force of habit, they readied for the traditional Maldibor celebration of the dark moon. Tables lined the city square with what precious supplies they could muster, and the people of Austerden cautiously unbarred their doors and windows, breaking out long unused instruments and colorful lanterns to hang across the streets. The smell of death was replaced with the aromas of roasting meat, rising bread, and the tart sweetness of periapple tea.

And although it was a celebration, a lightness like Okarria had not seen in decades, Emara could only think of how Jai would’ve loved to perform on the corner of the great square, with lanterns of every color lining the streets and a great bonfire crackling in the center of it.

But the celebration still held an edge of caution as the Heirs' army mixed with the Austerden survivors, bringing them hesitant hope for a future they hadn’t dared dream of in years. Zephyr’s green-eyed four-year-old, Heelo, raced through the crowd with two massive red ragehounds flanking his either side, teaching the other grief-stained children how to play once again.

That this was a world where they could play.

Aza sat next to the fire, leaning into Makeo’s chest as he whispered into her ear, and they smiled together. Then Kaia took Klaus’s hand, and they climbed atop the hastily erected wooden stage in the cobblestone square. Exchanging one more glance, Klaus tucked Kaia’s braid behind her ear, and with a nod, she threw a bright flame into the sky.

“People of Austerden. Warriors of Okarria,” Kaia began. “We bring you here tonight to celebrate the end of a dark age. To celebrate our freedom from Idriel, the Dead King, and his commanders.” The crowd cheered. “But we also come together to mourn,” Kaia continued. “Not just those lost in the battle for the city, but every day since his dark reign began so many years ago. Here I commend their souls to Odriel’s embrace.” She stopped, taking a breath.

For a moment, the words lingered in the cool night air to the soft chorus of “Odriel’s Wings.”

Kaia glanced at Klaus, and he held her gaze for a moment, their eyes glinting in the firelight, before she continued. “As with the heroes of old, we will keep their stories with us, telling them by our fires, adding them to our histories. With their strength becoming ours, we can move forward. Together, we won’t rest until we have cleansed Okarria of the Lost, until we have caged the man-killers of old, and until Okarria is safe for our children once more.”

Another cheer rose up, this one even louder than the last.

Then Klaus lifted his fist. “But tonight, we will sing and dance and laugh, because we have survived the darkness, and tomorrow the sun will dawn whole on a new day. Our day.”

With one last deafening cheer, the Heirs stepped down from the stage, and a fiddle struck up a lively tune. A chorus of merry voices took up the song as the people of Austerden clambered into the square—talking, laughing, and dancing. Just as the Shadow Heir said.

This was their new world.

And here they would not just survive.

Kaia and Klaus found Emara in the crowd, introducing her to the warriors of their army, including their scaly Dracourian friends with the torsos of humans and the bodies of dragons. Together they greeted the Maldibor that were no longer beasts, Zephyr’s wife, Hoku, and of course, their round-cheeked grandson, Heelo. They stuffed Emara with sweet bread, plied her with ciders and stories, and pulled her onto the dance floor in a wild jig.

And even though the arms of her new family closed around her, they could not silence the ache in Emara’s chest. The ache where Chipo and Jai should’ve been. At least when they’d found the royal records, she learned that Chipo had died in her sleep at the ripe age of seventy-one, five years before the treacherous Prince Candon poisoned his father, and his bounty hunter hung a generation of Heirs from the palace gates.

If Emara had known the specifics before, could she have warned Chipo? Would she have been able to change it? She let out a shaky breath and shook her head, Bellaphia’s words ringing through her thoughts. Once you make your path, it cannot be unmade.

Making her excuses, Emara finally slipped away from the smiling crowd and into the shadowy outskirts of the square to find a moment to herself. The thought brought her a bitter smile. For years, she wandered dark streets like these alone, wishing for someone to walk beside her. Anyone that could ease the ache of her loneliness. Now, for the last few weeks, she’d been surrounded by helping hands, caring words, and concerned smiles—and she chose to spend a night of celebration alone.

She looked down at her boots, surprised to find herself at the very corner Jai had given his last performance. Or, well, the last performance that she knew of. Though she’d searched the records thoroughly, she could find no account of what had really happened that day after she’d disappeared from the past.

Obviously Jai and Chipo had survived, and Everard had indeed changed Jai into the cat, Shadmundar. But she thirsted for details. Had Ivanora captured them in the aftermath or had they gotten away? Had Everard really turned Shad into a cat for stealing Bellaphia’s glasses?

Perhaps when things settled down, she could travel to see Dorinar, the historian magus, and—

A dark figure on the rooftop caught her eye, cutting her off mid-thought.

Instinctively, Emara drew deeper into the shadows. Who was stalking the party from above? Did he have a bow? She smothered a gasp. What if he was trying to assassinate the Heirs? For although they’d tried to rid the city of the Rastgol and the Lost, it was entirely possible they missed someone—a zealous supporter of the Dead King still trying to carry out his will. Refusing to accept defeat.

Emara stole toward the side of the building and scaled the crumbling bricks and windowsills, just as Chipo had shown her once before. She had to move quickly. Although she could heal a wound, an arrow could kill instantly with precise aim.

She curled her foot from heel to toe, trying to imitate Aza’s silent steps as she half crawled across the roof, heart hammering even as she tried to quiet her breathing. At least now she finally had a sizable dagger in her belt if she needed to forcibly stop him. She slowed as she approached from behind where he sat on the peak of the roof.

But the closer she got, the more she could see that whatever his intention, it was not murder. At least, not yet. He sat relaxed, with one elbow propped on a bent knee while he leaned back on his other hand. Actually he looked… extremely relaxed.

Was he really just watching?

Emara’s lips twisted, and then she straightened, giving him a wider berth as she sidled up to the ridge next to him. “Don’t care to join the celebration?”

But when he turned his bright sapphire eyes toward her, Emara’s heart dropped into her gut, and a sudden dizziness rocked her vision. Her foot slipped, and his hand flew out, grabbing her by the wrist.

Their gazes locked as he held her there, suspended.

Jai stared, his grip firm on her arm, as if frozen by her touch… or was it Shad?

Gone were Jai’s deep amber eyes, replaced instead by the smoky cornflower of Shad’s yanaa-flooded irises, though not nearly luminous as they had once been. His dark hair was a little longer than when she’d last seen him—falling over his arched brows and around his ears, but it was unmistakably Jai Shadmund. The century-old servant cat who’d risked his life to save her from the Rastgol, the snarky street performer that had literally picked her up off the street.

And yet… he looked at her with a blank expression.

Tears pricked Emara’s eyes, hot and stinging, both happy and sad at the same time. He was here, free of the curse and restored to his human self as promised, but he’d forgotten. The cleanse of the yanaa must have taken his memories with it once again, just as it had the first time.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice smooth and dark as the night.

Regaining her balance, Emara turned her face away as he released her wrist. “Um… yes, thank you. I just…” She shook her head, the thickening words catching in her throat.

His brow furrowed. “Do we… know each other? Not to make excuses, but I've had a bit of an amnesia problem since I came to in the palace. Apparently, it’s common for those who were controlled.” He turned his face to the bonfire below once more. “Everything seems so familiar and yet I can’t place any of it.”

“We definitely know each other.” His eyes widened, and Emara let out a chuckle even as her heart ached for him. He must’ve felt so lost. How had she not found him that day in the palace? “But you might want to sit down first.”

“I knew it.” He sat, but his crinkled gaze stayed glued to hers. “I feel like if I just look a little longer, it’ll come back to me. It’s so close.”

Emara cocked her head, wondering for a moment. The memories had to be in there somewhere—things didn’t just disappear. And hadn’t she been able to find someone lost in their own mind before?

She leaned forward, earnest now, the hope almost too much to bear. “My name is Emara Ioni Rao, the Time Heir.” She searched his eyes for any sign of recognition—nothing. “And if you’ll let me, I think I may be able to help you find your memories.”

He arched a brow. “But I thought the Time Heir was a healer?”

Emara smiled. Still as skeptical as ever. “Yes, and if I heal your mind, I think it’ll bring your memories back.” She held out her hands, palms up, and wiggled her fingers with a grin. “Can I try?”

Still, he hesitated. “Will it hurt?”

She rolled her eyes, her smile widening. “You’re such a baby.”

But the nerves fluttered up her throat. Jai was in there; she could hear it with every word. But would his mind be able to hold the century he’d endured as a cat? Once he remembered, would he regret taking those memories back? “It might not work, but either way it won’t hurt.” She was… fairly sure.

He studied her for a moment, a familiar smirk spreading across his face. “I think I must’ve liked you in my previous life.”

Emara fought to keep her expression neutral. “Well, would you like to find out?”

His smirk broadened into a smile, and he rolled his sleeves up, his forearms flexing. “I suppose anything is better than wandering around clueless.” He put his hands into hers, his cocksure gaze laced with a dare. “Do your worst, Time Heir.”

“Can’t remember anything, and you’re still insufferable.” She tossed him a half-hearted glare before closing her eyes. Then, taking a deep breath, she let her yanaa trickle into him, and his yanaa, the traces remaining from Everard, responded in kind—so familiar, Emara ached. She moved to his mind slowly, cautiously. If she made a mistake here, who knew if she’d be able to undo the damage.

But she found what she was looking for almost immediately, a sheet of opaque sapphire shimmering in his mind. Behind it, she could see a silent memory. It was Everard, bloody and urgent, looking at Chipo and Jai, shouting as they rode through the desert. Chipo nodding to Jai, hugging him with reassurances as they parted ways. Chipo and Elika down one path, and Jai and Everard down another. They passed through vineyards and into marshland before arriving at a cluttered cottage with a mussed-haired magus, his face tear-stained and grieving.

Words passed, the days stretched, and they gathered before a fire burning blue.

Everard’s lips moved, the words clear. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

Jai nodded, and then, in a burst of cerulean light, the memory began again.

Emara considered it for a moment. This barrier was why he hadn’t been able to remember his life before becoming a cat, but what had happened to those memories from after? Had they somehow gotten stuck here too? Either way, she wouldn’t be able to do anything else until she took care of this.

“I see you, Jai,” Emara whispered, steeling herself against the sickening hope that threatened to choke her. Then she reached out with her yanaa and touched the wall. The yanaa rippled before her, and she held her breath. Please, please, please. For a beat, nothing happened, and Emara thought she could hear her heart cracking.

She touched the wall once more with another ripple. “Please.” Her head sank. So close, and yet untouchable.

Then Jai squeezed her hands. “Emara.”

With that one word, the curtain fell before her in a wash of yanaa, and her face flickered through her mind in a hundred flashes: through his eyes, she saw herself bloody and ragged on the docks, her sleeping form curled next to Manju, her smile in the crowd of spectators, shouting at Everard, pulling Jai up the palace walls, sleeping in the palace bed, riding through vineyards, battling hired thugs, her face tilted for a kiss and then dissolving into a mist of blue.

Emara gasped, releasing him as her eyes flew open to find Jai staring at her with a mix of shock and wonderment. He looked down at the party again, then at the palace, taking in everything with new eyes before staring at his shaking hands.

Emara’s heart pounded in her chest. She had scarcely considered the shock of Jai regaining all his memories at once. What if his mind couldn’t take it? What if it hadn’t worked after all? Still, she forced the question out. “What… do you remember?”

He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes still blue, but lacking the residual glow that had been there a moment before. Then he raised a hand and ran it down her cheek, a shaky smile creasing his face. “You know, mystery-girl, next time you go traveling through time, do you think you might warn me?”

“Jai!” Emara threw her arms around him with a choked gasp, relief flooding through her in an incredulous wave of joy. “I thought you were dead.”

He chuckled into her hair. “Well, it was closer than I would’ve liked… more than once.”

She pulled back, her hands trembling with uncertainty and hope. “So, you remember your time as… as a cat?”

Jai squinted at the sky, as if he was still trying to scrape up the memories. “Some… but it feels like a dream. Almost like it wasn’t really me.”

“Why did Everard change you into a cat in the first place?” Emara leaned closer, wanting to touch him, to hold him and not let go. But she forced herself to give him space. “Was it because you stole the glasses?”

“I didn’t steal those glasses! I didn't want them to break after... you know, and I thought Everard might want them—which he did.” He feigned a pout. “Always so quick to blame me.”

“You’re the one that told me you stole something, Lightfingers!”

“Well, you’re the one who left us with a mess to clean up,” Jai said with a laugh. “After Ivanora thought you killed her sister, she was on a warpath. As the Time Heir, Chipo was practically untouchable, but I was… well, a street performer with no power or protection… I was in a bad spot. Everard offered me a way to hide. To save my life. I would serve as his spy, and then one day I would get to see you again.”

Emara listened with rapt attention, thinking back to when she’d first asked Shad about his curse. Everard once said if I served well, he would restore me to who I was before the curse. The magus had been true to his word after all.

Jai shrugged. “It sounded too good to be true, but honestly, I didn’t have much of a choice. With Ivanora on my tail, I couldn’t go back to Austerden, and I had nowhere else to go. After he and Dorinar changed me, they told everyone I was being punished for stealing and called me Shadmundar.” He ran his hands in circles along her back as he spoke. “The ruse worked, but since I forgot everything with the change, I also believed it.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “How’s that for a story? Think it’d bring a pretty penny from the square?”

Emara closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, thanking Everard and Odriel and Time itself for conspiring to bring him here before her. “I think that’s the most incredible story I’ve ever heard.” She swiped at her cheeks and pretended to pat her pockets. “But I’m fresh out of coin.”

He gave her a sly grin, his blue eyes glinting as he leaned in, his voice low. “What about a kiss instead?”

And something in Emara melted, her breath catching in her throat as her heart squeezed, and another joyful tear slipped down her cheek. Still, she couldn’t help but mirror his cocky smirk. “Finally! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?”

He pulled her in, brushing the tears away with his thumb as his head bent toward her. “Not nearly as long as I have.”

As their lips met, the yanaa between them sparked through Emara. They kissed as if they’d done it a thousand times, his warmth pressing against hers, their mouths moving together in a heated dance that warmed her from her toes to her fingertips. Every inch of her buzzing with the rightness of it.

After years of wandering, years of death and terror, of hiding away from a dark world, she’d finally found a future she could look forward to and people she wanted to share it with.