42
CECILY
“Where are you going?”
Finn paused with one boot half on. Cecily was watching him from the pallet, propped on one elbow.
“To find answers,” he said, pulling the boot all the way up. “There’s a monastery east of here. About half a day’s ride. They keep family records.”
“A monastery?”
“Yes. Births, deaths, lines of succession. I want to know what happened to the Veyrons after I disappeared in 1239.”
She sat up fully. “I should come with you.”
“No, you should rest. You were exhausted yesterday.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back before dark.”
The door closed behind him. Cecily lay back down but couldn’t sleep.
She loved waking in the same room with him, the simple routine of sharing meals.
At night, they slept in their clothes as they always had, back to back for warmth in the narrow bed.
A careful distance. It was a pretense of marriage, she knew, but she loved it anyway.
He treated her with a quiet regard that was new, a stark contrast to the man who once mocked her pride.
Yet sometimes she’d catch him watching her, a look of such focused want in his eyes that it felt like a touch, a reminder of the restraint that was a constant, fragile thing between them.
Last night, after they’d returned from watching the other Cecily, she’d lain beside him in the narrow bed, his arms around her, his heartbeat steady against her back.
She felt safe there. Protected. Wanted. She longed to tell him she loved him but dared not.
Would it frighten him? Would he leave her?
Yes, they were just playing at being a couple. But God help her, she didn’t want it to end.
Her mind kept circling back to the woman in the window. The other Cecily. The other her. Pale and sick and alone.
Eventually, she rose and dressed. The maid at the inn had cleaned and mended her dress as best as she could, but it still showed signs of wear. It had travel stains and streaks of dried mud at the hem. She looked like what she was: a woman who’d been living rough.
∞∞∞
She needed food for their breakfast. And perhaps she could find a needle and thread to mend the tear in Finn’s shirt.
The morning was bright and cool. Faversham’s market square was already busy with people buying and selling. Cecily kept her head down and moved through the crowd. She was anonymous. She felt safe.
She stopped at a baker’s stall. The bread smelled delicious, fresh from the oven. She counted out coins for the bread, a small crock of honey, a bundle of dried herbs, and a piece of smoked fish wrapped in cloth. Cecily tucked them into her satchel and turned to leave.
That was when she saw him.
Benedict.
He stood across the square, talking with a merchant. As always, he wore fine clothes. He was gesturing, negotiating over something. Then he turned his head and looked directly at her.
They both froze. A cold shock went through Cecily.
Benedict.
For a moment, she could only stare as she watched his expression shift from confusion to recognition. He started toward her, and every instinct screamed run, but her body betrayed her, rooting her to the cobblestones.
He dipped into a small bow. “Lady Cecily?” His voice was uncertain.
She didn’t answer.
He stopped a few paces away, staring. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Veyron.”
“You’re mistaken, sir.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
“Mistaken?” He stepped closer, studying her face. “I know the lady of Veyron.”
He reached out and took her arm. Not roughly, but firmly—a little too firm.
Anyone watching would think he was being helpful. But Cecily felt the strength in his grip. It was firm enough to bruise her.
“How did you get here?” he asked. His voice was quiet, almost gentle. “Yesterday, you couldn’t leave your chamber.”
She tried to pull away, but he held on.
His eyes moved over her face, down to her dress. She could see him taking in the details. The simple frock. The travel stains. The way she stood, straight and strong instead of weak and trembling.
His expression shifted. Then she saw confusion become understanding.
“You’re not her,” he said slowly.
Cecily’s pulse quickened. She said nothing. She couldn’t.
She could see him struggling to connect the pieces, the flicker in his eyes, the slight furrow of his brow as an impossible idea took shape on his face. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
“You’re… the other one.”
Then Benedict’s face smoothed into a pleasant smile.
“My dear, forgive me. For a moment, I was confused.” His voice was warm now, thick with concern. “You look so well. Much better than when I last saw you.”
She took a step back, pulling her arm away from his grasp.
“This is no place for you to be alone. Does Lord Julian know you’ve left Veyron? Where are you staying?”
The questions were casual and friendly. But his eyes held no warmth at all.
“I must go,” Cecily said, stepping back.
“Let me help you.” He moved toward her as if to take her arm again, but she backed away. “You shouldn’t be wandering about by yourself. Are you staying at one of the inns? I’ll escort you back.”
She retreated again. He wanted to know where she was staying. She couldn’t let that happen.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Truly, I insist.” Still pleasant. Still smiling, still warm, though the warmth stopped at his lips. “It’s not safe for a lady alone. Just tell me where you’re lodging and I’ll walk with you.”
“No,” she said, her voice rising. “No, thank you.”
“At least let me send word to Julian.” His tone was all solicitude. “He’ll be so relieved to know you’re well. Where should I tell him to find you?”
She knew he was trying to trap her with fawning kindness.
“I must go,” she said.
She turned and walked away. She did not run. That would draw attention. She just walked steadily and with purpose.
“Lady Cecily, wait—”
She didn’t stop. Around one corner. Down another street. Past a church. Then into an alley. She glanced back. There was no sign of him.
Only then did she run. Her heart pounded as she wove through the narrow lanes. She didn’t look back. She was afraid to. She didn’t stop until she reached the inn.
She dashed inside, up the stairs, and into their room. She locked the door and leaned against it, breathing hard.
He knew. She could tell by the look on his face. He’d figured it out.
And he’d been so pleasant. So concerned. But she’d seen his eyes. Heard the careful questions. Where are you staying? Which inn? Let me tell Julian where to find you.
He would tell Julian. They’d come looking. They’d find her and Finn.
And then what? What would they do to people who knew about the machine? People who knew about the other timeline?
She sank onto the bed, shaking. Every sound made her jump. Footsteps in the corridor. Voices outside. The creak of the stairs. As the sun moved and shadows lengthened, still there was no Finn.
Where was Finn?
She went to the window and peeked out, making sure she couldn’t be seen. There was no sign of Benedict. But he could be watching. Waiting.
Every sound made her jump. Footsteps in the corridor. Voices outside. The creak of the stairs.
What if Benedict had followed her after all? What if he was down there right now, asking the innkeeper about guests? About a woman traveling with a man?
They couldn’t stay here. They had to leave.
There was a knock at the door. Cecily spun around, pressing herself against the wall.
“Cecily.” It was Finn’s voice.
She dashed across the room and unlocked the door. He took one look at her face and stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind him.
“What happened?”
“Benedict. He saw me. In the market.”
Finn went very still. “Did he recognize you?”
“Yes.” Her words tumbled out. “He thought I was her at first. The other Cecily—the other me. But then he realized I wasn’t. I think he figured it out, Finn. About the machine. About two versions of me.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. He was pleasant. But too pleasant. He was trying to find out where I was staying. He kept asking which inn, where could he find me.” She gripped his arm. “He’s going to tell Julian. They’ll come looking for us.”
Finn’s jaw tightened. “Then we leave. Now.”
“Where will we go?”
“I don’t know yet. But we can’t stay here.” He moved to their few belongings and started packing. “I found answers at the monastery today. About what happened after I disappeared. But we need to get moving first.” He looked at her. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”
She nodded. He’d learned something important. She could see it in his face.
“One thing is clear. We can’t wait any longer,” he said. “We have to get the machine. We have to act.”
They gathered their things quickly. Finn went downstairs first, checking the common room. When he came back, he nodded. “It’s clear. Come.”
They left by the back way, avoiding the main street. The sun was setting. Shadows lengthened in the alleys. No one stopped them.
But as they left Faversham behind, walking toward the darkening forest, Cecily couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere behind them, Benedict was watching.