She makes a sudden staggering motion, flinging out her hand to catch herself on the nearest bookshelf. The wobbly one. It groans and creaks, and in one horrifying moment I realize exactly what’s going to happen.

if you touch her, there will be pain—

The hunger’s voice is too late—the bookshelf tips backward and then comes hurtling forward, a frozen Fione poised with deer-wide eyes between it and the ground. My hand catches her shoulder first, and I shove her as hard as I can in the other direction.

The shelf looms, inches away, and I brace myself against the impact, against the command’s rising demand that wrenches control from my body, leaving me numb.

You will find a secluded place and stab yourself three times in the stomach with something sharp—

The heavy pain of the shelf never comes. Something else hits me, something much less dense, something warm and that moves on its own. A person. They throw me to the floor, my head hitting the wood and my ears ringing, drowning out the sound of the bookshelf crashing to the ground.

Dark, disheveled hair, dark eyes peering down at me fiercely. Lucien.

Dust swirls between us in the aftermath, his face close to mine. A shaft of sun enamels him in white-gold light, one dark eye molten gold, red strands illuminating his otherwise midnight hair. Vaguely, through the command’s numbness, I feel his arm around my shoulders, as if he’d tried to cushion my fall.

lovestruck fool.

If I could stay in this moment, looking up at his stern expression, his arms around me, I would. The girl in the other timeline has, many times already, savored his presence in ways I’ll never be able to.

I smile to myself and up at him. She’s so very lucky, I think.

“That’s the second time you’ve pushed me out of the way of imminent danger,” I chirp, and I’m sure my eyes are sparkling deviously. “But at least this time I don’t have to pretend to be impressed by it.”

Faintly, behind him, I see the outline of someone else—someone with milk-blond hair and a hand over her delicate mouth. Lady Tarroux. Were they walking in the library? Gods, I ruined their time together, didn’t I? She’s frozen, and before Lucien can speak, the real world pierces the moment. The command demands, and I push him off and rise to my feet. I can hear Fione scrabbling to stand up, Lucien, too, and Lady Tarroux calling out after me, but my command-rigid gait is already halfway out of the library. By the time they’ve gotten their bearings, I’m down the hall, passing the guards who run toward the commotion of the shelf falling.