The look of disappointment on Anita’s face was crushing. Akna had seen Anita disappointed at other people, but she couldn’t think of another time it was directed at her—certainly not any time it was so intense. It made Akna want to curl up in a ball and hide away from the world.

“I just wish you’d come to me first,” Anita said, “before going after Godran like that.”

Akna forced herself not to look away. “You would have told me not to.”

A flash of anger passed over Anita’s face. Shit. That was worse than disappointment.

“You’re right,” Anita said. “I would have. And the fact you knew that, and so decided not to tell me and just do it anyway makes me…” Her jaw quivered and she looked away.

“I’m sorry. I just—”

Anita held up a trembling hand, but said nothing.

Akna waited. It was the best response right now.

After a few moments, Anita lowered her arm and bent over, touching her head to the table. After a moment, she groaned loudly and sat up again. “What am I supposed to do about Lucas? He’s accusing you of murdering his father.”

“He knows I didn’t. It was magic and he knows it.”

“But others don’t. They might believe him.”

“If I may, your Ladyship…” Zandrue had been leaning against the corner in the library, mostly silent since this discussion had begun.

Anita nodded.

“Most of the servants were afraid of Godran. I don’t think they’ll be upset he’s gone. Even if they believe Lucas, they’ll secretly be grateful to Nin-Akna.”

“And what about my uncle? He was already enraged at Sinitïa’s attempt on Godran’s life yesterday. Now he’s demanding I dismiss Akna and expel her from the palace.”

Zandrue shrugged. “Let me talk to him. I’m sure I can convince him he’s mistaken about the identity of Godran’s killer.”

“He believes Lucas. How will you—”

“I just have to convince him it was dark and Lucas couldn’t see the killer clearly. If it doesn’t work, we can think of something else. At least let me try.”

Anita took a moment before replying. “Very well. Do what you can.”

Akna had been surprised at Zandrue’s lack of anger. After all, her carefully laid plan to watch Godran had been ruined. Though, as Zandrue herself had already pointed out, Sinitïa had already ruined it, and given the lack of success the plan had had so far, it was likely Godran had already been suspicious even before Sinitïa’s attempt on his life.

Anita turned to Felitïa who was seated beside her. “What of Sinitïa?”

“She’s agreed to remain in her rooms for now. She’s keeping herself busy looking after Meleng, so I don’t think she’s too bothered that she can’t leave. She’s also agreed to make a public apology to Horaz.”

“That should do once he’s calmed down,” Anita said. “How’s the boy doing anyway?”

“Still in shock, I think, but he’s strong. I think he’ll get through it.” Felitïa looked to Akna. “Nin-Akna, I’d like to know more about this Isyar. If that’s all right with you, Anita.”

Anita nodded.

Akna had been hoping they’d get to this. Anything to get the focus off her own actions. “She said she was a...I forget the exact word. A time wizard.”

“A time wizard?” Felitïa said.

“Yes, she said she could travel in time. She said she’d come to thank me for saving her life, but she’d come back too early, so I haven’t done it yet. Something like that.”

“But time is a lost discipline.” Felitïa looked to Mikranasta, who was standing off to the side. “Isn’t it?”

“It is,” Mikranasta replied. “However, one time travelling from the past could conceivably come to our time. Such a traveller would be either very foolish or incompetent to reveal themself so, however.”

“She was very young,” Akna said. “She was very worried her diare would catch her.”

“As she should be,” Mikranasta snapped.

“Or the organisation she said she was part of. The Hgirh? The same one Feviona is part of. She wore a uniform like Feviona’s, only darker.”

“Hgirrh, not Hgirh.”

Akna stared at Mikranasta. “Sorry?” Meleng had talked a bit about the confusing aspects of Isyarian. Had there been a slight difference in how Mikranasta had pronounced the words?

“She must have said she was part of the Hgirrh, not Hgirh.” Yes, there was a slight extra emphasis on the r sound in one version. “Nevertheless, that makes her even more foolish. To defy her own order’s rules.”

“I tried to get her to stay. I thought she could help us. But she was too afraid the Hgirh would catch—”

“Hgirrh,” Mikranasta said.

“Sorry, Hgirr.”

With a sigh, Mikranasta rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

“She was too afraid she’d be caught. I tried to tell her we’d help, that Mikranasta was really powerful, but she said even Mikranasta wouldn’t be powerful enough.”

“It is irrelevant whether I would be powerful enough,” Mikranasta said. “I wouldn’t help in such a case. The Hgirrh would be right to hunt her, and I would not stop them.”

Akna sighed. “Right. Whatever. I mentioned you, Felitïa. Told her you were the Will-Breaker.”

Felitïa leaned forward. “Oh?”

“I thought maybe she might recognise the name.”

“Did she?”

“Yes, and it made her even more afraid to stay.”

“It is for the best,” Mikranasta said. “Amongst my people, we often mourn the lost disciplines, but I must say, I think it is for the best that time is lost. It was by far the most dangerous discipline, capable of creating terrible chaos. The Hgirrh is an organisation long gone, though I have no doubt they monitored the future carefully. They did their job. We should not interfere with it now.”

“Nin-Akna,” Felitïa said, “did she give her name?”

“Yes, she said it was Lisanacora.”

Felitïa lowered her head into her hands and sighed. “I had a feeling as much.”

“You know the name?”

Felitïa looked up again and nodded. “Yes, I do.” She turned to Mikranasta. “And I’m sorry, Mikranasta. I understand your reasoning, but we have to find her.”

Mikranasta’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“I recently had another person in the line revealed.”

“You did not tell me this,” Mikranasta said.

“I haven’t told anyone.”

“Except me,” Zandrue said. When Felitïa looked at her quizzically, she shrugged. “Actually, I don’t think you told me. I just kind of knew. Must have been when you were in my head.”

“That makes sense,” Felitïa said. “Anyway, it was weird and I didn’t know how to interpret it. When I was waiting under the cathedral, I briefly made contact with the voice in my head. It told me to look for Lisanacora, and then she was revealed. Sort of. I see her simultaneously at every age from birth to extreme old age. Based on what you’ve said today, Nin-Akna, I think that’s because she’s travelling in time and could appear at any moment in her life.”

“This is disturbing news,” Mikranasta said. “I don’t like it. You should have told me of this previously.”

“Maybe, but I made the decision I did, and we’re here now. There’s something else as well.” Felitïa pushed back her chair and stood up. “Give me a few minutes. I need to collect something.” She headed out of the room.

Mikranasta waited momentarily, but then followed her out.

Zandrue sat down at the table and grinned. “I do love it when Mikranasta gets all flustered.”

“You don’t like her much, do you?” Anita said.

Zandrue shrugged and hooked her hands behind her head. “That would be an understatement, but we also need her, so I try to keep it in check.”

Anita smiled. “I understand. I find her a bit off-putting as well.” She motioned to Akna. “Akna, come sit with us while we wait.”

Akna approached the table, though she hesitated sitting.

Anita widened her smile. “It’s all right, You know I don’t bite in public.”

Zandrue barked a laugh.

With a sigh, Akna sat across from Anita, who held her hands out across the table. Akna took them, and they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“See?” Anita said.

“You’re not angry?”

Anita snorted softly. “I was, and maybe I still am a bit. I did have to postpone my trip to the docks, and Uncle Horaz...well, it doesn’t matter. You made a mistake—a doozy of one, but still a mistake.”

“I just hate disappointing you.”

Anita gave Akna’s hands a squeeze. “It’s going to happen sometimes, and I’ll probably disappoint you from time to time. I still love you. One mistake, even a doozy, isn’t going to change that.”

Akna lowered her head to hide her embarrassment. “I know.”

Zandrue’s chair made a loud scraping noise as she pushed it back, and Akna looked up at her, letting go of Anita’s hands. “Maybe I should give you two a little…” Zandrue waved her hands about as she stood up.

“Privacy?” Anita said.

Zandrue nodded. “Yeah, I’ll wait outside until Felitïa gets back.”

Anita shook her head. “No, please don’t. Akna and I will do further making up later, won’t we, Akna?”

Akna smiled sheepishly.

With a shrug, Zandrue pulled the chair back up to the table and sat back down. “In that case, let’s change the subject. Nin-Akna, how about you provide me with a detailed description of this Isyar. If we have to keep an eye out for her, it will be good to know.”

“Of course,” Akna said, “but if she’s appearing at different points in her life like Felitïa said, I don’t know how helpful it will be.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Zandrue said. “Whatever you can tell me will be helpful in some way.”

Akna nodded and proceeded to tell Zandrue as much as she could remember about Lisanacora’s appearance. Zandrue asked a few guiding questions, and they were just finishing up when Felitïa and Mikranasta returned.

Felitïa was carrying The Foretellings of Eleuia, which she placed on the table in front of Nin-Akna. She flipped through several pages and then pointed to one of the verses on the page that was now open. “Nin-Akna, can you read this one out, please?”

Akna looked at the writing and read it out. Dear gods. Had Eleuia been speaking directly to her?

“Translation please,” Anita said.

Akna grimaced. “Sorry.” It was written in Ninifin, so she had read it out loud in Ninifin without thinking. “‘Be on constant vigilant look-out for the Isyar who will bring the weight of time upon you. The intended of this message will know who she is when she reads it.’”

“Is that you?” Felitïa asked. “I half-assumed it was me when I first read it, but I didn’t understand the message, so I always wondered if it was someone else.”

With a sigh, Akna leaned back. “When she left, she put her hand on her chest like Isyar often do, but what she said was different than I’ve heard the other Isyar use.” She looked to Mikranasta. “She said she hoped the weight of time would be light, but then she added that she feared it wouldn’t.”

“‘May the weight of time be light,’ is an archaic saying,” Mikranasta said. “I have only ever heard it used by the oldest Isyar, and even then rarely.”

Felitïa closed the book and turned to Mikranasta. “We have to find her.”

Mikranasta bowed her head. “It would seem so, though I do not know how you plan to do that.”

“Neither do I,” Felitïa said, picking up the book. “We’ll just add it to all the other things we need to do, but don’t know how to. For now, I suppose we wait for this moment when Nin-Akna saves her.”

“It would not be wise to change that moment,” Mikranasta said.

“I agree,” Felitïa said, “but it might give us more information.”

Mikranasta bowed her head again.

Akna sighed. There went Felitïa again.

Felitïa looked back at her. “Is everything okay, Nin-Akna?”

“Yes, fine. I’m just...tired. Sorry.” Akna forced a smile. Felitïa was planning things for her without consulting her first again, but it wasn’t worth making a fuss about right now, especially since she would probably agree with everything Felitïa suggested anyway.

Felitïa didn’t look convinced, but nodded. She glanced at Mikranasta, then turned to Anita. “If you’ll excuse me, your Ladyship, I need to go do my meditation exercises and ponder what we’ve learned.”

Anita rose from her seat and curtsied. “Of course, your Highness. Thank you for being here today.”

Felitïa curtsied in return. “My pleasure, your Ladyship.” She smiled at Akna. “Don’t worry. I’m sure things will blow over with Horaz.”

Akna smiled back.

“Zandrue, could we talk?” Felitïa said.

Zandrue jumped to her feet. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Hedromornasta was standing on the other side of the door, when Felitïa and Zandrue went through it. He followed them.

Mikranasta placed her hand over her chest. “Pleasant thoughts, your Ladyship. Nin-Akna.”

Anita returned the gesture. “Pleasant thoughts, Mikranasta.”

“Pleasant thoughts,” Akna said.

Mikranasta bowed her head, then left through the other door that Felitïa and Zandrue hadn’t used.

Anita came over to Akna and held out a hand to her. Akna took it and stood up. They kissed.

“You didn’t seem pleased with Felitïa.”

Akna groaned. “You noticed?”

“It was hard not to, and she clearly noticed too.”

“I just hate when she makes plans that involve me but doesn’t consult me.”

“You should say something.”

“I’ve tried. She always promises to do better, and she makes an effort for a while, but then she forgets again.”

Anita put her arms around Akna’s neck. “She’s a take-charge person. I think she means well.”

“Oh, I know she does. That’s why I put up with it.”

Anita chuckled, and they kissed again. “I should go try to smooth things over with Uncle Horaz.”

“Wasn’t Zandrue going to do that?”

“Yes, but he’s my uncle. I should try too.”

“You forgive me then?”

“Always, though I suppose I should punish you appropriately this evening.”

“Really?”

Anita chuckled. “I suppose you’re the one who will punish me.” She grinned. “I will bravely take your punishment for you.”

They kissed again, and then Anita turned for the door. When she reached it, she paused and looked back. “Though I suppose I should be seen to give a real punishment. For Uncle Horaz’s sake. Take the day off your duties. I shall say I have temporarily suspended you. Hopefully, I can calm him quickly enough that I can lift the suspension tomorrow.”

Akna sighed and nodded. “I understand.”

Anita blew her a kiss and then went through the door, where a group of guards fell in step with her, and she was gone.