“Clocks stop.”
Brianna’s face heated.
“People repeat conversations they don’t remember having.”
She looked up sharply. “How do you know that?”
“Because uncontrolled temporal magic leaves fingerprints. Small loops. Missing seconds. Repeated moments.” Bas studied her carefully. “You’ve been afraid of yourself for a long time.”
The words hit with uncomfortable precision.
Brianna looked away. “I thought maybe I was losing my mind,” she admitted softly.
“You are not losing it. You simply never had the right training.”
Silence settled between them for a moment.
“Are you saying you can train me to control this supposed gift?”
“Yes.” Then Bas reached into her coat pocket and withdrew an old-fashioned brass key attached to a silver moon charm.
“The mansion wards will recognize this if you choose to come.”
Brianna stared at it but didn’t touch it.
“If?”
“I don’t recruit prisoners,” Bas said. “You may refuse.”
“You’d just leave and not come back?”
“Yes.”
That surprised her more than anything else.
“No dramatic prophecy? No ‘the fate of the universe depends on you’ speech?”
Bas rose smoothly from the table. “The universe always depends on someone. Currently it appears to be held together by fools.”
“…Fair point.”
Bas moved toward the kitchen doorway, then paused. “One more thing.”
Brianna braced herself.
“When you arrive at the mansion, do not sit in the blue chair near the living room fireplace.”
“Why not?”
“It exposes liars. If I’m not there to vouch for you, the other witches might seat you in it and start asking questions.”
Brianna stared. “I’m not a liar!”
Bas stared back with complete composure. “A half truth is enough to trigger the chair.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I never joke about the chair.”
