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I still can’t feel a tap. It’s more like a locked door separating me from my source. But magic’s seething and surging behind that door, rattling the hinges. With the little that leaks through, I channel light, the first spell I learned, into the stone.
A soft glow builds around my fingers.
“That’s right, Teddy. Let it build. Channel the glow. Who’s the master?”
With a violent pop, the light goes out. I shake my palmful of stone fragments and dust onto the table before wiping my hand off on my jeans. Well, future-Teddy’s jeans, since I showed up naked. Fortunately, future-me was as much a fan of kickboxing as I am, and the jeans are only one size too big.
Callan shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Next time you say, ‘I am.’ It’ll never work if you don’t say the magic words.”
In the past week, I’ve learned that Darwin’s three-hundred-year-old, fae prince father is obsessed with Eighties movies. He’s thrown quotes from everything fromSay AnythingtoThe Adventures of Buckaroo Banzaiat me. This one’s fromThe Last Dragon, which I watched obsessively for a year when I was eight and wanted nothing more than to use “the glow” on my arsehole older brother. Callan’s also taken great delight in telling me all the actors who were actually fae, including the Goblin King himself. I think he’s trying to lighten the mood but really, he’s ruining my childhood.
I shake my head at him. “My name’s not Leroy.”
He flicks a few fragments of stone off his page and goes back to reading.
I pull my Arcana in front of me, rub my eyes, and do the same.
* * *
When Gabe returnsa few hours later, my other husband is with him.
Darwin sits down on the bench next to me and pulls me into his arms for a kiss. His mouth leaves my lips scorched, my skin tingling, my mind blank. It’s hard to bear the force of his magic when I don’t have any of my own. That’s one of many reasons mages tend to stick to their own. A magi’s aura doesn’t interact well with anything non-magickal. Darwin’s not even doing it on purpose, and he’d be horrified if I told him his aura was injuring me.
I pull lip balm out of the pocket of my jeans and rub it on my swollen lips.
“Find anything?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Well, I have some news. Doctor Prince will be here tomorrow.”
I lift both eyebrows. He and Gabe concocted this scheme between them—to assemble a “dream team” to get me back to my own Time—and they contacted several of our old Bevington professors. I staged a token resistance, embarrassed by the idea of calling in favors from people I already owe a great deal to. But I caved after a few days of reading got us nowhere. Doctor Prince and Madame Serpa both promised to come, but I thought it would take them more time to extricate themselves from their teaching responsibilities.
“Does that get me a smile?” he asks.
I smile and pull him in for another searing kiss. I’m sure he can taste my sadness, but I pour as much gratitude into the kiss as I can. Darwin and Gabe have done nothing but comfort and support me since I arrived uninvited in Darwin’s bedroom. I owe them more than words could ever say, so I try to tell them with my kisses.
“I also have some news,” Callan says, closing the Arcana he’s been reading after marking his page with a silver ribbon that’s probably from the sleeve of his silk robe.
His son lifts his perfectly shaped eyebrows at his father. Darwin admitted to me that until we met, he did his father’s bidding out of fear. After he became part of their trio and his-Teddy killed Da, he refused to have anything to do with his father or his court for years. But once he married his-Teddy, they reconciled. From what I’ve seen in the past few days, they’re not friends, but they’re at least allies.
“There are no verified accounts of successfully getting a message to the past,” Callan says.
Darwin exhales in disappointment. But I hear what Callan hasn’t said.
“Noverifiedaccounts,” I say. “There are unverified accounts.”
Callan nods. “A handful. They all believed they got a message through to the past, though they couldn’t prove it.”
“How?”
“Dreams. They all believed they created a dream bridge with someone in the past.”
“I’d still need my magic to create the dream bridge,” I say, feeling defeat nip at me again. I’m so grateful for the research Callan’s been doing, that he volunteered to do without me saying a word. While I’ve been frantically researching how to restore my magic, Callan’s been looking for a way to get a message back to my boys.
My boys, who must think I’m dead.
“You would,” Callan confirms. “But Gabe and Darwin both have their magic and are there in your Time. They could create the dream bridge with their younger selves.”
