“Oh, so you want me to tell a certain vengeful librarian you have a book from the secret archives out on loan?”

I’m not amused.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He just shrugs, giving me that adorably innocent puppy-dog look that always seems to get him out of tight spaces. “Or maybe Headmaster Petrolas. I’m sure he’d like to know what you have planned.”

“I could curse your mouth,” I threaten. “Make it so you can’t say anything.”

“Tongue’s already cursed, remember?”

Right. He finally confessed his dream of becoming a musician to his parents, and they cursed his taste buds to ensure a constant reminder of their disapproval. Troy descends from Asklepios, the god of medicine. You don’t deviate from an ancient line of doctors without a little parental fury. He hasn’t been able to eat sweets for weeks.

He’s trying to make a joke out of the situation, but that doesn’t change my mind. Griffin is the only other person with a stake in the outcome, and I’m not asking him—or anyone else—to take this risk on my behalf. Enough people have already paid for my actions. I’m not adding to the list.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” I explain. He’s already in enough hot water about the whole musician thing. “I won’t risk you getting hurt.”

Or worse. When dealing with the gods, there’s always something worse.

“Nicole,” he says, in a tone way more steely and serious than I’m used to from Troy, “you’re my best friend. You need my help. There is no way I am letting you go through this alone. End of discussion.”

My mouth drops opens to argue, but I snap it back shut just as quickly. Troy doesn’t usually make stands like this. I love him, but he’s about ninety percent coward. It took him almost eighteen years to come clean to his parents about his music. The fact that he’s standing up to me, of all people, is shocking and impressive.

Besides, he’s right that I will probably need help. Who knows what the requirements for time travel are going to be? Not me, clearly, since I’ve been too chicken to even open the book. And he’s also right that he’s my best friend. What he might not know, though, is that I trust him more than anybody else in this world—or any other world.

If I’m going to have a partner in crime in this enterprise, it’s going to be Troy or no one.

I finally say, “Okay.”

“Listen, Nicole, I know you don’t like relying on—” He jerks back and blinks a few times. “Did you just say okay?”

I stare at him.

“Wow.” His green-gold eyes widen in shock. “This must really be serious.”

“It is.”