Revenge is a jealous master, Gran used to say. She meant it as a warning—a plea to always seek forgiveness instead of vengeance. But that was before Latham killed her. Before he killed my mother.

Now I’ve given my entire body—heart and soul—to my plan for revenge. I’m the handmaiden of vengeance.

There’s no time for love.

The spell book changes everything.

I had planned to be cautious in my training with Master Kyra. To hold back at least a little and find a delicate balance, making steady progress without improving so quickly that it becomes obvious I’ve trained before.

But Latham is coming at me with everything he has. I can’t afford to move slowly.

During our next session, Master Kyra presents me with a set of bones from the vertebral column of a jackal. “I’d like to test your range today.”

“My range?” I can’t quite keep the disappointment from seeping into my voice. I reached all the way to Midwood during our last session. Does she really think I need to work on my range?

“Not distance,” she clarifies, as if hearing my thoughts. “Time. I’d like to know how far into the past and the future you can reach.” A little thrill of anticipation goes through me, followed almost immediately by panic. I have all three Sights. How can I possibly allow her to test my range without giving myself away?

My mind scrambles for a way to avoid the task. So far, I’ve never been able to tell which Sight I was using—I’ve thought I was seeing the present when I was actually reading the past, or the future when I was attempting to see the present. What if I try to see later today and end up reading next week instead? Is that too far in the future to be believable?

If I get expelled from Ivory Hall, I’ll never hone my skills enough to stop Latham. I’ll never find my mother’s and Gran’s missing bones. Blood roars in my ears. The room feels far too warm, and I shrug the heavy training cloak from my shoulders.

“How far can new apprentices typically reach?” I ask.

Master Kyra studies me, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and I have the sensation of being turned inside out and inspected. She always seems to see more than I’d like her to.

“Everyone is different.”

“How far can you reach?”

The question is impertinent, and for a moment I think she’ll refuse to answer, but then she gives me a measuring look. “A few hours. A day at most.”

The pressure in my chest lightens just a fraction. At least it gives me a reference point.

Master Kyra lights the incense—lavender—and sits across from me. “I’d like you to attempt to see what will be served for the evening meal tonight.”