44
FINN
When the first light appeared at the window, Finn rose and began gathering their few belongings. Arriving in the dining hall, he heard voices outside, then the sound of horses and a carriage. Finn went to the window and looked out.
He drew in his breath.
Below in the courtyard, Julian sat on a new dappled gray stallion, the kind of horse that cost more than most men earned in a year, with Benedict standing beside an impressive carriage. With them were several guards. Cecily’s uncle was already outside, greeting them.
“What’s happening?” Cecily appeared beside him.
“They’re here.”
“What? How?”
“Your uncle must have sent word early this morning.” Finn backed away from the window. “We have to go.”
But it was too late. Stephen entered the room with a broad smile on his face, followed by Julian.
Stephen said, “I couldn’t let you walk back to Veyron Hall, now could I, my dear? So I sent for Julian the moment I woke.”
Finn reached for his belt out of habit, but a guard grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before Finn could reach his knife.
“No!” shouted Cecily, racing to Finn’s side.
Julian walked slowly toward Finn. “This man should never have taken Lady Cecily out of the estate. She’s been ill, too ill to travel. Guard, restrain him.”
Finn wrenched his arm free of the approaching guard and drove his elbow back into the man’s ribs. The man grunted, but two more stepped forward and pinned him against the wall before he could move again.
As they were binding Finn’s wrists, Julian approached Cecily and stared at her intently. His eyes moved over her face with cold curiosity.
“Stay away from her,” Finn said in a low, threatening voice.
“Be still,” Julian said.
“So,” he said, turning to Cecily. “Did you enjoy your time away from your sickbed? You’re looking well rested, considering you’ve been gravely ill for months.” He turned to Stephen. “Thank you, Lord Malethurst, for taking such good care of my dear wife.”
Cecily said nothing.
Julian smiled as he gazed at her, the kind of smile that didn’t involve his eyes at all. “How fascinating,” was all he said as he looked her up and down.
“Uncle,” Cecily started, imploring. “I don’t want—”
“Hush, my love,” Julian said. He gestured to the guards. “Take them both to the carriage. Be gentle with her,” he added with a glance toward Stephen.
“Oh my,” said Stephen. He had begun to fidget, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Please take good care of her, Julian.”
With a deep bow, Julian said, “I shall, Lord Malethurst. Rest assured, I will take care of her.”
Outside, as a guard shoved him toward the carriage, Benedict stepped close. He smirked at Cecily, then leaned into Finn’s ear. “How are you alive?” he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper. “I killed you myself.”
The words were like a blade twisting in a wound Finn hadn’t known he carried. He stumbled, not from the guard’s push but from the shock. Before he could react, he was thrown into the carriage.
Finn worked at the ropes on his wrists, but they were too tight. Beside him, Cecily’s face was pale in the morning light that filtered into the carriage.
Finn heard Julian’s voice above. “Where are we taking them?”
“The old watchtower,” Benedict replied. “No one goes there anymore.”
Finn’s stomach dropped through the floor. He knew what the remote tower meant. No witnesses. No record. Nothing left.
They were going to be killed.
∞∞∞
The journey felt endless. When the carriage finally stopped, guards pulled them out roughly. They were in a clearing surrounded by dense forest. An old stone tower rose before them, crumbling and abandoned. Ivy covered the walls.
“Inside,” a guard said, shoving Finn forward.
They were pushed through the door and down a narrow stone staircase. The air grew cold and damp. At the bottom, a heavy wooden door stood open. Beyond it was a cellar with stone walls and no windows. There was only darkness and damp.
Two guards shoved Finn and Cecily inside.
Then they heard footsteps on the stairs behind them. Benedict stood there with a torch in one hand and a dagger in the other. Julian was behind him.
“No point in waiting,” Benedict said, advancing into the cell. “There’s no reason to keep you alive. Either of you.”
Julian remained in the doorway, a shadow in the torchlight. His hand was not on his sword. He just watched Benedict advance, his face a mask. A spectator. Or a coward. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Benedict, and the blade he was raising.
“Wait,” Finn said.
Benedict kept coming, raising the blade.
“Kill us and you’ll destroy yourselves!” Finn said desperately.
Benedict stopped, looking back at Julian.
“What are you talking about?” Julian asked from the doorway.
“The machine!” Finn’s voice was strained.
“You don’t understand it. You think it’s just for gold?
It branches. It creates… others.” He glanced at Cecily, his mind racing.
“Two Cecilys. There are two of her. Kill the wrong one, and you could wipe away everything you’ve built. You could wipe away yourselves.”
Benedict lowered the blade slightly. “Explain what you mean. Now.”
Julian moved forward and asked, “How are there two of her?” He gestured to Cecily, who hadn’t moved while Finn spoke.
“Different timelines,” Finn said. “When you change the past, you create a branch. Two versions of the same person, living different lives.”
Benedict and Julian exchanged looks.
“That’s not possible,” Benedict said.
“Yet here we are,” Finn said. He sounded more sure of himself than he was. “If you kill the wrong version—if you collapse the wrong timeline—you could erase yourselves. Your wealth. Your power. Everything.”
It was a bluff. But they didn’t know that. Finn said a silent prayer that his gambit would buy them some time.
In the torchlight, Cecily nodded slowly. “It’s true,” she said. “Believe him, or we could all die.”
“Bring me the machine,” Finn said. “I’ll show you.”
Benedict studied him for a long moment. Then he looked at Julian. “Let’s get it. We’ll bring it here.”
“Are you certain?” Julian asked.
“If there’s even a chance he’s right…” Benedict’s jaw tightened. “I’m not risking everything we’ve built.”
Benedict lowered the dagger. “We’ll be back before the sun is high.” His eyes locked on Finn. “And you’d better be able to prove this. Because if you’re lying, I’ll make sure you live long enough to regret every word of it.”
He said it with such coldness that Finn felt Cecily shiver beside him.
They turned and left. The door slammed. The bar fell into place. In the sudden dark, Finn could hear nothing but Cecily’s breathing and his own.
Cecily’s voice came in a whisper. “Were you telling the truth?”
“Yes, I think so,” Finn admitted. “Mostly, I wanted to gain some time.”
“You’re not sure?”
“It was all I could think of. But it sounded like something Anton told me once.”
“They’ll be back soon,” Cecily said. “With the machine. And when they realize you can’t prove anything…”
She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. Finn stared into the darkness. They had a few hours at best.
In the dark, Cecily found his shoulder and rested her head there. Finn lowered his cheek against her hair. They had a few hours at best, and nothing else but this.