Chapter Twenty-Four
How are you feeling, Isla? You’ve used a great deal of energy today—that was quite the successful session.” Edmund’s deep voice rumbled as the group exited the training arena.
“I’m right as rain, Edmund. Thank you for asking. Though I wouldn’t mind eating a slice of cake.”
Andrew laughed, which seemed to please Isla.
He should have felt insecure with Edmund also being an eligible bachelor—the impressive specimen of a man that he was.
However, Andrew took great comfort in the memory of Isla briefly throwing her arms around him on the archery range.
She had let her guard down even more. Yes, she’d let him hold her hand in recent days, and she hadn’t scolded him earlier for how close he had gotten to her during their archery session—the softness of her skin against his face still lingered—but she had initiated contact again, and for that fleeting moment, holding her that closely had felt like coming home.
They left the path to the hidden range behind, George bidding them farewell as he locked up. The winding path led them back toward the main building, its gothic towers piercing the dusky sky.
“Still no news on the visiting Oxford professor? Do you think he’s okay?” Juliette asked.
“I hope so, though I am worried. My men haven’t heard a thing,” Edmund replied, looking grim.
The group left the grassy path and walked through a patch of skeletal trees.
Their branches were almost bare, the last stubborn leaves clinging like tattered banners in the wind, whispering of the season’s end.
The encroaching dark cast ominous-looking shadows, and Andrew noticed Isla close the gap a little, moving closer to him as they walked.
His mind tumbled backward through the years to another life when she had sought comfort from him.
The memory lingered in the water’s molecules that surrounded them, landing in a quiet country home bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon.
Isla was there—old now, her hair silver, her skin lined with the years they had spent together.
He sat at her side, holding her trembling hand in his, fingers entwined as they had been for decades.
The garden outside their window bloomed with late-summer roses, the same variety she had loved planting when they’d first wed.
He watched her take shallow breaths, each one a fragile thread tying her to the world.
She was fading, and he knew it. The bed they had shared for decades had become her final place of rest. He remembered how her eyes—though clouded by age—still held that same spark, the same earthbound strength that had first undone him centuries ago.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he silently begged for just one more dawn together.
The weight of losing her, even for a time, crashed over him.
The world could strip them of youth, of health, of time itself, but not of this: the unbearable, breathtaking truth that to love her was both his greatest gift and his deepest grief.
The inevitability of loss pressed down on him—the agony of having loved someone for a lifetime and knowing the world would be dim without her.
Yet even in the shadow of that despair, he felt the unshakable truth that their love had endured time itself.
He would see her again, in another life.
They were Fated, but this moment—the depth of her presence, her heartbeat, the subtle sighs and soft warmth of her skin—was heartbreakingly precious.
“Are you okay, Andrew?” Her voice was soft, bringing him fully back to the present, quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear. He wanted to tell her his memories, to have no secrets, but was she ready?
He noticed his breathing had become ragged, the pain of that night resurfacing.
He looked at her—wrinkles and laughter lines gone, her skin smooth and glowing in the dimming light.
The end of each life always carried the same agony: the fear that he would rise alone, never to find her again—or that she would be hurting, and he wouldn’t be there to help.
Or worse still—that this would be the life when she didn’t want him.
“Andrew?” she whispered again, concern and confusion crossing her face. He could feel the echo of past losses lingering in his mind as he watched her now, full of life. He wouldn’t waste another moment not pursuing the woman he loved more than life itself. Without her, life was bleak.
“Just lost in a memory,” he said softly, meeting her gaze, the gravity of it still lingering in his mind.
She studied him closely, unsure what to do with this serious side of him.
He could almost see the indecision flicker across her face—whether to step back and leave him to his thoughts, or to step forward and offer comfort.
For all that Isla had built her shields high to keep others at bay, she was not a cruel woman.
Quite the opposite. She could see he was hurting.
Taking a steadying breath, she slipped her arm through his and gently squeezed his bicep.
He lifted his arm to support the weight of hers.
At once, his own breathing eased with the rightness of it.
He applied light pressure to her hand with his arm, returning the gesture as thanks for her quiet comfort.
Edmund and Juliette were ahead of them, Juliette talking animatedly, Edmund looking stoic and replying frugally.
Lanterns flickered to life along the worn cobblestones they now approached, guiding them back to the labyrinth of ancient courtyards and vaulted archways.
He heard the whinny of a horse as they passed the entrance to the university stables, calling for its evening meal.
“You know, Isla,” he said, “what you did back there was impressive.”
She looked up at him, her big amber eyes alight with intelligence. Her smile was small, but it was there.
“Thank you,” she said simply. This new territory of polite conversation between them was still clearly an anomaly for her.
“You know, despite the friendly competition we’ve shared over the last couple of years, I truly have always admired your bright mind.”
“Friendly!” she scoffed, though good-naturedly. “I’m not sure I’d call it friendly when you outshone me during the funding presentation, leaving me scrambling to defend my own research budget.”
He smiled at her. “I could never outshine you.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
“Besides, that presentation was more a formality. You know the budget was already earmarked because of the war effort. It wasn’t personal.
Unfortunately, wartime priorities often overshadow other important research, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive.
In fact, I’d argue your work is even more valuable.
When the war ends, the world is going to need a special kind of healing—both for the land and the people—and your research is exactly that.
Your paper on improving crop yields and soil management will help the country survive difficult times and ensure a more resilient food supply. ”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Isla’s lips curved into a brief, playful smile before she sobered. “Our nation owes you a great debt of gratitude, Andrew—for your work helping to create the mechanical defenses that keep us free.”
He let out an awkward, ineloquent grunt. “I just ... I can’t help feeling guilty. Being here, safe behind the university walls, while others are out there ... ”
She studied him for a moment, her eyes softening. “Andrew, you’re at the very top of your field. I understand why you feel that way. But we all have our roles to play—and without men like you, the war effort would be far worse off. What you do here truly matters.”
The winding path led them toward the ivy-wrapped cloisters, growing taller with every step. A light drizzle began to fall, and he noticed Isla shiver as the sky dimmed. He pulled her in closer.
“Is that what you were thinking about back there, Andrew? You looked a little haunted.”
He didn’t reply immediately, unsure how much to share.
She had been through so many changes recently, as well as trauma, and he was also making progress with her—she was no longer trying to thwart him at every interaction like a particularly stubborn squirrel defending its last acorn.
But he was done waiting. That last memory had reminded him that life was short and a gift that needed to be embraced, even if he got to do it over again in another life—any opportunity to be with Isla was where he chose to be.
“You know that I can see memories as an Aqua Summoner?”
When she nodded, he continued.
“Sometimes memories happen unexpectedly; I don’t always have to be focusing on finding one for them to hit me.”
“So, you were living a memory? One from your past? Was it an awful one?”
He smiled at her rapid questions. “Yes—yes—and not exactly. It was painful, but it also held so much beauty.”
Just before they entered the main campus, Isla pulled on his arm and turned him toward her. They stood facing each other, the drizzle making everything damp. She studied him, her eyes flicking between both of his.
“Was it a childhood memory?” She was clearly trying to understand his pain, her mind jumping to his childhood—probably because hers had been so hard.
“Isla,” he whispered, his voice hoarser than he intended. He hated that she had suffered. Hated that he had just seen her death. “My memories are not only of this life.”
Her eyebrows raised, her jaw dropping.
“They are also of previous lives. The one I just relived was from a life before this one.”
She blinked rapidly, her beautiful mind clearly working through his implications. She nodded. “Yes, Harold told me his wife had similar experiences.”
She looked away for a moment before focusing on him once more. “And I find that completely unfair,” she said, a smile spreading across her face.
His own smile grew at the sight. Despite his serious revelation, he was glad she hadn’t run for the hills at his confession.
“And why’s that?”
“It means you can recollect all your previous learning! You had an academic head start on me because you can remember previous lives.”
He laughed at her words, warmed by the fact that their banter was still there, only now tinged with a softer, warmer tone.
He turned, holding her hand and softly pulling her out of the gentle rainfall.
“It also means,” he murmured as they walked, his voice low and careful, “that some things ... some connections, aren’t entirely new. And I’ve known them before—known people I care about before.”
She nodded slowly, digesting his words, though she avoided eye contact. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. His heart clenched a little as he could see she was struggling with his words.
A sharp voice called out to them, and they turned to see Edith Cartwright, Harold’s personal assistant, running toward them.
“So glad I found you both. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.
I’ve just informed Juliette and the detective—the vice chancellor has an important message for you.
He said to tell you that Professor William Smith arrived from Oxford this afternoon.
The engine of his car was set alight, causing a delay.
He wants you both in his office at once. ”
Andrew and Isla quickly followed Edith, making it difficult to resume their conversation. Isla was still not looking at him, but he could see her mind whirling.
They soon reached Harold’s office, where Edmund and Juliette were already standing against the wall.
William was a man in his forties, intelligence shining clearly in his eyes.
On the way to the office, Edith had also informed them that he wasn’t an Aetherian, so they were to keep those details to themselves.
After introductions were made, Harold nodded to Edmund. He moved away from the wall, his height and demeanor commanding the attention of the room. His normally sharp, gruff voice was softer than usual when he spoke.
“I’d like to offer my condolences, Professor Smith. Ray’s death was tragic. Good intentions for the world are in short supply.”
The older man nodded solemnly. “Indeed. His work was done quietly in the background, for the good of others.”
“From what I understand, the people behind these attacks are targeting those involved in making penicillin widely available,” Edmund said.
“Yes, I have gathered as much. At first, I thought the news reports were just coincidences, but now ...”
“I heard about the incident with your car. Are you certain it was just a mechanical fault?”
William shrugged, though a faint frown creased his brow. “Yes, it seems to have been nothing more than a glitch—fortunately, no one was hurt. Cars break down all the time.”
As he spoke, Andrew shared a glance with Isla. Clearly, William’s car engine catching fire had been intentional targeting by the threat of danger and power plaguing them.
William’s eyes were troubled, yet he missed their exchanged look. “I searched Ray’s office this afternoon and couldn’t find his research notes. If I could find them, his life’s work wouldn’t have to go to waste. I have connections that can translate his work.”
“We can help you look,” Juliette piped up. “He often worked in the library. I saw him frequently writing.”
“I appreciate that, young lady. I plan to stay for a couple more days, and then I must be home.”
Edmund nodded at Juliette’s suggestion. “I’ll join the search for Ray’s research notes.
But, Professor Smith,” he said, his posture firm and commanding, his soldier’s bearing evident, “may I also provide some officers to shadow you? Although your car may have been damaged by engine failure, too many lives have been threatened. I wish to see you safe so that you can carry on the marvelous work you are doing.”
William’s face paled. “You think that was foul play?”
“I don’t know. But I do know it cannot harm anything to have you trailed until the culprits are found.”
Nodding, William let out a tired breath. “Very well. And thank you. But I must reiterate—I need those notes so I can move forward with this work. The lives of many could depend on finding them.”