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supposed to learn from her.” The man named Bertrand turned his gaze on Nick.

“Is that what you meant when you told me to take her as a mistress? You meant I should ask her to be my tutor? Excuse me for misunderstanding. In my world there’s a difference between whores and schoolteachers.”

Julia opened her eyes wide in the darkness. Nick was very angry. He had been told to take Miss Blomgren as his mistress? By this cold, beautiful Frenchman? It made no sense.

“The sex was just a front, Davenant, to fool Arkady and the rest of them. You could sleep with Alva or not, depending on how the two of you felt about each other. Don’t you understand that we were orchestrating a double bluff back in Fleet Street? You were to seem to be spying for the Guild, when in fact you were to visit Alva for instruction in time play.” Impatience flickered across his face and was repressed. “But your pride, Nick, is not my concern. I am interested in a far more important problem. That problem is named Julia Percy, and she lies over there, mercifully alive. If you are desperate to begin your education, just think what it must be like for Julia. You know you want to learn more. But she doesn’t even know that her so-called grandfather was duping her all those years. Ever since she was tiny he was watching her, trying to figure out how she did what she did—a mere child, and so gifted. But as for inducting her into the mysteries of her incredible talent—well.” The Frenchman stared into the fire. “He kept her entirely ignorant, inert, like a stone. I will always respect Ignatius Percy. He was a great Ofan, a great teacher. But still. It is unforgivable.”

Julia listened, her heart pounding. Her so-called grandfather? Had duped her? He knew all along that she had the talent, knew that she could manipulate time? But she couldn’t play with time until after he’d died. She had never done it herself until that time she stopped Eamon from cutting her throat. It had always been Grandfather. It had always been him. And anyway, what was so special about her talent? Everyone in this barn seemed to be members of this group called the Ofan. They seemed to have the talent, too. What was so different about her?

In the firelight Nick’s face looked careworn. “If I’d known all of this about Julia, I would have told her,” he said. “The moment I first saw her again, I would have told her. I’d have given her every scrap of information at my disposal, though believe me, there weren’t many scraps.” He looked at his friends. “I understand that you are all concerned for Julia, too. You are concerned because you think she is the Talisman. But I know her. What I feel for Julia is . . .” He stopped, and stared at his hands.

The others sat still, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t.

In the silence, Julia felt something heavy lift from her. Something she hadn’t even realized she was carrying until it was gone. It wasn’t because of Nick. It was because they all knew, all three of them. They knew she was the Talisman, they knew she was in danger, they were her friends. She could stop pretending.

The man who had been quiet until now spoke. His accent was staccato and yet melodious. “With the right training she should be able to hide that talent with skill rather than ignorance. So we’re going to tell her the truth about herself, and the extent of the danger from both the Guild and Mr. Mibbs. We’re going to learn about her talents from her own mouth. Then we’re going to teach her to act as if it isn’t true. In a way, we are going to continue Ignatz’s policy of total camouflage. But with one essential difference. Julia will know she’s hiding something. She will know what she’s hiding, and why, and she will know how to hide it.”

“Alva said something like that, as I was leaving London last night,” Nick said. “Something about finding a way for her to pretend.”

“Yes, it was Alva’s idea.”

But Julia wasn’t listening anymore. She watched the smoke rise from the fire and let her gaze travel all the way up to the darkness behind the firelit rafters. She was among friends. The secrecy was at an end. But Grandfather . . . she closed her eyes and confronted the darkness inside. There was no more hiding from the truth. Grandfather had kept her from knowing about herself. He had lied to her. For her entire life. She had been able to manipulate time all along. Since she was a child. She knew the men sitting around the fire were right; she could feel it in her fingertips, all up her spine, even at the roots of her hair. The knowledge was there, so quick and ready and bright that it must have been with her all along. She was like these men, but she was more powerful, more gifted somehow. She was the Talisman not because she made Grandfather stronger, but because she was so strong herself. And Grandfather had walled her up.

She had frozen time before he died. She had. She knew it now, and it was as if she had always known it, but the knowledge had stayed just beyond her reach, like a dream only just forgotten. It was when she was in a temper or seized by fear. When her emotions got the best of her. She had been the one to freeze Eamon and his team of horses all those years ago when she was four. She had frozen him again, those times they dressed him up and made fun of him. She remembered now, the way he had teased her into a rage, and her sights would narrow on him. Her blood would sing in her ears, and he had seemed to fix in

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