I notice it three blocks from the docks. A presence behind us. Not close, maybe forty feet back, but consistent. Matching my pace, pausing when I pause, turning when I turn. I've been alive long enough to know when I'm being followed. The sensation is unmistakable: an itch between my shoulder blades that has nothing to do with Peeble's legs.
I take the next corner and press myself flat against the wall, drawing the short knife from my belt. I wait. Count to four.
A cloaked figure rounds the corner.
I have them against the wall. Blade at their throat before they can react. One hand fisted in the front of their cloak, the otherpressing steel against skin. The figure goes rigid but doesn't scream. That tells me something. People who aren't trained scream.
"What do you want?" I keep my voice low. "You've been following me since the market square. Give me a reason not to open your throat."
I yank back the hood and pause.
It's a young woman. Barely out of her teens, if I had to guess. Dark hair cut to her jaw, sharp features, and a pair of brilliant green eyes that are staring at me with an expression I can only describe as deeply unimpressed. She looks at me as if I'm a mildly inconvenient puzzle she's already solved.
Something about her face tugs at a thread in my memory. I've seen her before. I know I have. But when you've lived as long as I have, faces blur. People overlap. The past becomes a crowded room where everyone looks vaguely familiar and no one has a name.
"Do I know you?"
She laughs. A short, private sound, like a joke only she's in on. "No," she says. "But I should tell you that the Sage sent me."
I take a step back. The knife stays up, but my grip loosens.
That damn Sage. Always knowing more than they let on. Always moving pieces across a board I can't see, operating on information that shouldn't exist yet. I've stopped being surprised by it and started being irritated.
"What's your name?"
She gives me a smirk that I swear I've seen on someone else's face, but the memory won't solidify. "Thalia. I'm here to help you get back to your Elle."
Everything in me sharpens. "Where is she?"
"Not here."
"Take me to her. Now."
"You may be the prince, but I'm afraid even you can't make demands in this instance." She says it without malice, almost gently, like she's delivering bad news she's had time to make peace with. "She's not in this iteration. But it's crucial that you get to her. Time is running out."
Peeble emerges from my collar, apparently deciding that hiding is no longer necessary. "Thalia! Oh, aren't you a beauty! I love the whole look you've got going. Very mysterious, very cloak-and-dagger. Could you be a doll and tell us how to find our precious, sassy Elle? We miss her dearly."
"That is an understatement," I say.
Thalia glances both ways down the alley and nods to herself, her expression shifting from calm to urgent. "We must hurry. We only have moments. You need to get aboard a ship called the Crimson Emerald. The current Elle and Kaelren of this iteration are aboard. You must not engage with them. Do not approach. Do not interact. They're headed out to the Starblush Sea. When the right moment comes, you must make a leap of faith."
"What does that mean?" The words come out closer to a growl than I intend.
"Wait, wait, hold up." Peeble lands on my shoulder and raises a claw. "Not to state the obvious, but Mr. Broody here isn't exactly camouflage. Six-foot-something, silver eyes, corruption marks, a general aura of menace. Don't you think two Kaelrens in such a small space will cause issues?"
Thalia nods. "Yes. The Sage knew this would be a problem, so they gave me this." She reaches into her cloak and produces a vial. Violet glass, no bigger than my thumb, filled with a liquid that bubbles and shifts even though no one is shaking it. The contents glow faintly.
I stare at it. Then at her. "I'm supposed to trust a stranger and drink that. What if it knocks me out and you murder me?"
She chuckles. The sound is too warm for someone who just met me at knifepoint. "I guess you'll have to take a chance and find out. It depends on how much you want to get back to her."
Peeble leans in and sniffs the vial. Their antennae twitch. "Ohhh, it smells like grape. Bottoms up, pretty boy. I'm ready to go home."
I sigh and look at the vial. I look at Thalia, who watches me with those green eyes that know too much. I think about Elle, scattered across time, waiting for me in some iteration I haven't reached yet, trusting that I'll find her because I promised I would.
I take the vial and throw it back in one gulp.
The regret is instant.
