2
CECILY
Cecily crossed the stable yard in the gray before dawn, her bootsteps soft against the stones. The yard lay quiet. The air was cool and damp against her face.
Willow lifted her head at Cecily’s approach, ears flicking forward. The palfrey knew her.
“Easy,” Cecily murmured as she took the reins.
She mounted and led Willow toward the gate. Only when Malethurst Hall lay behind her did Cecily allow herself to breathe easy.
The road to Graston village was familiar—fields giving way to hedgerows, then woodland, then cottages.
She urged Willow into a brisk pace, the steady rhythm of hooves striking earth grounding her thoughts.
She did not know what she would say to Grandfather Anton when she arrived.
Only that she could not stay still. Her grandfather had always listened.
Graston came into view just as the sun cleared the trees, smoke rising lazily from the cottage chimneys. Grandfather’s house was much smaller than her parents’ manor, but it felt warmer somehow, less formal, less imposing.
Beja, her grandmother, saw her first and came quickly, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Cecily?” Surprise flickered into concern. “What are ye doin’ here so early, dear?”
“Grandmother, I need to see Grandfather,” Cecily said.
Beja did not question her. She took Willow’s reins and gave Cecily’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before leading the mare away.
Inside, Anton emerged from the back room. One look at Cecily’s face and his expression changed.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“My parents want me to marry an old man,” Cecily blurted. “A man older than my father.”
Anton went very still. He led her outside and into his workshop.
Before he could speak, movement caught Cecily’s eye. A young man straightened from a workbench, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“This is Griffin, son of—” Anton began.
“Finn,” the young man interrupted. “Just Finn.”
Anton paused, then inclined his head. “Yes, this is Finn.”
The objects spread across the table drew her attention away from the young man, metal pieces unlike any she’d seen before, wiry things threaded through them, a faint hum that raised the hair along her arms.
She turned to Anton. “Did you know about my proposed marriage, Grandfather?”
“No,” he said simply.
“My parents talk about delaying their decision,” she said, keeping her voice steady, though it had begun to quiver. “But not refusing him. They spoke of the consequences of refusal. Of the risks of provoking him.”
Then she said, “It’s Lord Alard de Veyron.”
At the name, Finn went rigid. He shot a look at Anton, his expression so fierce it startled her. He said nothing, but the silence from his corner of the workshop was suddenly heavier than any words.
“That cannot happen,” Finn said.
Anton shot Finn a warning look, a silent command to hold his tongue.
Cecily looked between them. “Why? This doesn’t concern you.” She looked pointedly at Finn.
Anton exhaled slowly. “What Finn means is that Alard is not a man who accepts refusal. Everyone knows this.”
“And yet,” Cecily said, squaring her shoulders, “refusal is exactly what I seek.”
Her gaze drifted to the table. “What is all this?”
Anton followed her look. “It’s something you were not meant to see,” he said at last. “And never touch, do you understand?”
“Grandfather, you once told me you were not born in this time,” Cecily said. “What does that mean?”
He looked from her to the machine, his face grim. “It means I know the dangers of meddling with things man was not meant to touch. This machine is proof of that.”
“Can’t there be another path for me?” she said, a pleading note in her voice.
As she stepped closer, a low hum started from the device, a sound she felt thrumming in her teeth. It grew steadily into a whine that made her ears ache as one of the metal rings on the frame began to vibrate violently, rattling against its fittings.
Anton swore and lunged for a box mounted on the machine, yanking a lever. The sound cut off. Smoke, smelling of hot metal, curled from the frame. The ring was still.
“That,” he said grimly, “is what it does when it’s merely warming itself up. That is why you must not touch it.”
Her grandfather was trying to warn her of something—but what?
Despite his caution, she could not stop looking at the machine.