Chapter 12 #2
Tired eyes meet mine, and a faint smile tugs at his lips. “Yes, everything’s alright. I know we haven’t had much time to talk privately, but after what you said to me before dinner, I wanted to check on you—truly check—before we reach Venice.”
He glances down the hallway, ensuring no one’s nearby, then peers inside my cabin. “May I come in?”
I know I shouldn’t entertain this. A lady inviting a man who isn’t her husband into her bedroom is frowned upon.
But after the days we’ve been having, and not knowing what my future has in store, I decide they can bloody sod off.
Thankfully, I’m still in my day clothes, though my blouse and skirt now have several wrinkles, and my hair’s a bit disheveled.
I nod and step aside, closing the door behind him.
Perspiration floods my underarms at the sight of Henry in my cabin. He lingers in the middle of the cabin, scratching the back of his neck, shifting on his heels. I chuckle softly at his discomfort—now he knows what it feels like to be the only man in a room full of women.
I gesture toward the plush red velvet loveseat in the lounge area. “We can take a seat over there.”
Henry lets out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he mutters, settling on the far side while I take the other end.
Impulsively, I reach forward and rearrange the pile of books sprawled across the tea table.
“How are you doing, truly?” he asks, a hint of genuine concern in his voice. He props an elbow on the armrest, his posture relaxed in a way I envy. I cannot recall the last time I felt calm and at ease.
The Clara from a few weeks ago, even the Clara from Oxford, would be aghast to know Henry Ashford would become a friend of mine in the future.
“It’s all been so much,” I say, facing him. “I feel like months have gone by when it’s only been two days.” I glance at the chest, trying to contain the disdain from reaching my voice. “I opened my own personal Pandora’s box, and I have no one to blame but myself.”
Henry absorbs my words, letting them sit between us.
“I’m not going to try to relate because I simply cannot, and the last thing I want to do is insult your feelings.
” He moves slightly closer and rests his hand in the space between us.
“But you do know you can always share what you’re feeling with us—with me.
You shouldn’t carry this burden alone when there was no way for you—for any of us—to know what the chest was. ”
He looks into my eyes, giving me a warm smile. “Clara, you uncovered one of the oldest artifacts in the world in pristine condition. You can feel pride in what others failed to achieve for thousands of years.”
It's not his words that reassure me, but his earnest tone. I glance at him, trying to convey the gratitude I feel. “Thank you. I will try my best to do so.” A small chuckle escapes me. “And you’re right. Despite everything, I need to remind myself that this is an extraordinary achievement. Something I should be proud of.”
Henry keeps his gaze on me. “You aren’t in this alone. You have the whole team ready at your side. We are all in this together.”
I do not know how long we stare into each other’s eyes, getting swept in the depths of his gaze.
When we break from our reverie, I glance down and notice our hands resting so close together on the seat.
The tips of our fingers are mere inches away.
My heart hammers, my breath comes shallow.
There is a need to close the gap, to feel his hand entwined with mine.
Closing my eyes, I remember our introduction at the Dover dock—how his hand gently held mine as he placed a kiss on the top of my fingers. Then suddenly, I remember where I am, who I am with, and I shoot my eyes back open. I’m stunned at myself.
What am I doing? Why am I feeling this?
Pushing the feelings aside, I move my hand back to my lap.
My cheeks burn, embarrassment rising. I keep my head down, hoping Henry doesn’t notice. I stare at a loose thread on my skirt, silently counting to ten, forcing my mind back to what matters most: how to break my connection to the artifacts.
“If you’re worried about what’s to come,” Henry says, “you do happen to be one of the lucky ones who can see the future.”
We both look at the golden chest, its surface catching the light. The gleam feels enticing. I weigh Henry’s suggestion, but I can’t stop thinking ahead—about what could happen to any of us.
If I could glimpse what lies ahead and get reassurance that everyone and everything will be okay, why shouldn’t I take the opportunity?
If the Amulet of Sight can grant me peace of mind, then perhaps it can also give me the motivation I need to face this arduous journey, knowing it ends as it should. Besides, this could be the only way for me to take control of the situation.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try,” I eventually concede.
We rise from the loveseat and cross the few feet to the chest. Lifting the lid, I take out the amulet and place it around my neck. The jade gemstone glistens in the light. Similarly to the other artifacts, it rests lightly on my chest, no heavier than a pound.
I don’t bother sitting. Desperate to know what’s in store for us, I close my eyes and ask to be shown my future. In an instant, bright white light floods my vision as the amulet answers my plea.
I’m staring at the back of my future self. I’m kneeling on wet grass before a deteriorated, mossy-covered stone wall. I can’t tell where I am, only that it’s somewhere on the British Isles.
Slowly, the vision changes, circling until I’m forced to see myself from the front.
A gasp escapes me. I’m clutching onto a lifeless Henry.
His shirt is soaked through with blood from a wound on his chest. My hands press against it as I shake him, begging him to wake.
Tears stream down my face as I plead in desperation.
When I realize he’s gone, I clutch his head to my chest, rocking him back and forth, whispering, “No…please come back to me,” into his ear.
Horrified by what I’ve seen, I tear the amulet from my neck and return it to the chest, shutting the lid. My heart races against my ribs. Bile burns at the back of my throat, threatening to rise, but I swallow it down.
“What is it? What did you see?” Henry asks, stepping closer.
Relief nearly breaks me when I see him alive and well, no blood staining his shirt. I search his kind face and wonder how anyone could ever be expected to tell another person about their own death. “I saw all of us together again at Wilcrest House. We were all gathered around in Grandad’s library.”
I should feel terrible for lying. Instead, I know the truth would be far crueler.
“That’s great! It showed you we’ll all be safe and back together.” He smiles wide. “See? There’s no need to worry. It will all work out in the end.”
I try to mirror his optimism. I cling to denial, hoping that if I lean into it hard enough, it might become real.
My eyes take in the sight of him, memorizing every detail of the person who is willing to walk into danger for me.
From his strong cheekbones and soft hazel eyes to the way his now tanned skin shows his love for archaeology, I study it all.
It’s a face I once loathed to see and now has become one I cannot go a day without.
The face of someone I will protect from experiencing the future I saw.
I am the Eudaemon after all. If anyone does have the power to change the future, it would be me.
Remembering who I am, I no longer feel as helpless as I would have, and easily give Henry a genuine smile. “It certainly will work out in the end. Thank you for stopping by and for being a good friend.”
His smile falters, ever so slightly, then perks up once more. “The honor is all mine.”