Adepts are the next step down from mages on the power scale; they can use magic but only in one very specific way. A time mage like Sonder can speed time up, slow it down, look into the past, and even do really weird stuff like kicking something out of the timeline entirely, at least in theory. A time adept can only do one of those things—they have one spell they can use, and that’s it. They don’t get the best treatment from mages and a lot of them carry a fair bit of resentment as a result. “They’re supposed to be some kind of vigilantes?” Sonder said. “Or they’ve been getting into fights, anyway. I don’t know if they’re the same people, though—the ones I heard about are supposed to only have a problem with Dark mages.”

“What makes you think they’re not the same ones?” I said dryly.

“But you’re not . . .” Sonder began, then trailed off. “Oh.”

“What sort of fights?” Luna asked.

“I think they’re supposed to be pro-adept?” Sonder said. “They attacked some Dark mage in Bristol a while back.”

Variam shot Luna a glance, frowning. “If they’re so pro-adept, how come they were after you?”

Luna shrugged. “They weren’t, they were after Alex. I just got in the way.”

“Okay . . .” Variam said doubtfully, looking at me.

I hesitated, on the edge of speaking. It would be so easy to change the subject, and for a moment I grabbed at the idea. Tell them an edited version, skate over the worst bits, and move on. For all the time that I’d spent with Anne and Variam and Sonder and Luna over the past year I’d never told them much about myself, not even Luna. And they trusted me—if I told them I didn’t want to talk about it, they’d accept it.

Except . . .

Except that they did trust me. When I’d been hurt, they’d come without hesitation. Sonder and Luna had been at my side all the way through the search for the fateweaver and the attack on Arachne last year, and Anne and Variam had joined them after the events of last winter. Hadn’t they earned the right to know what was really going on? And if they were willing to put themselves at risk, shouldn’t I at least tell them why?

The silence stretched out, the four of them glancing at me and waiting for me to speak. From the other side of the room, I could hear the soft whisk-whisk of Arachne’s needle. “The adept who stabbed me is called Will Traviss,” I said at last. It was an effort to get the words out. “He thinks I killed his sister.”

The four of them looked at each other. “Why does he think that?” Variam said.