Chapter 2
Rayna
“Age, thirty-one. Height, just over six-foot-three. Blood type, B positive. Weight, over two hundred and twenty-five pounds, though likely to be over two-thirty when he’s eating properly. And he has a high muscle-to-fat ratio, suggesting high levels of regular exercise.”
That was the troublesome lord according to his medical record being read out by his assigned doctor, Ash, from the POTeM medical team.
“Bloody woods, is he a man or a bear?” George muttered from the chair next to Rayna.
Having landed at two a.m. after an hour-and-a-half long flight back home to the easy-going city of Redworth in northern Khaas, Rayna and George had crashed at the house they’d bought together a year ago before being summoned to the lab for a twelve o’clock meeting.
Since she’d sat down around the table in the white-walled meeting room, Rayna had been growing increasingly baffled along with George.
Where on bloody Neves had River found this lord exactly?
Nothing about his description sounded like the typical pompous, titled elite of the Tregency period that most of the history books and sources she’d studied talked about.
It didn’t help that the pure exhaustion on all four men’s faces around the rectangular table, other than George, was so painfully evident either.
Monty, the head historian sitting on George’s right, was usually a cheerful middle-aged man with a bushy moustache and glowing, dark brown skin. But he had yet to display his typical toothy grin and unfold himself from the slumped position in his chair.
Opposite him, Victor was squeezing the bridge of his nose under his glasses with his eyes closed, having not said a single word since greeting Rayna and George when they’d arrived.
River, the historian who’d brought the lord to the present, stood at the head of the table and appeared to have aged ten years in the month or so it had been since Rayna had last seen him, his grey eyes looking dull and his dirty-blond hair a mess on his head.
Even handsome doctor, Ash, opposite Rayna, with the ruby-red eyes and silver hair of those from the Crimson Cast from the State of Dale, looked pale and tired.
The cause?
The eighth Marquess of Norland, Dominic Evander Jonathan Thorne.
From what River had said so far, Lord Norland was from the Region of Vindall in the south of Khaas from the year 635 PR. He was stupidly wealthy, having invested his money in emerging industries unlike most of his peers, which was what had piqued River’s initial interest.
Ash shrugged one shoulder, then continued detailing the man’s medical record.
“He’s perfectly healthy, honestly. CT scan, MRI scan, everything was clear.
No signs of cancerous cells or internal damage to his organs.
Nothing came up in the allergy test nor his swab test. The hair-drug test came back clear, and despite a minor iron deficiency, his blood test came back fine too. ”
“If all his tests are done, shouldn’t he be out of quarantine by now?” Rayna asked. “Hasn’t he been in there for the full eight days yet?”
Ash was hesitant to answer, slipping a quick glance to Victor next to him. “He’s…actually been in there for two weeks. As of today.”
She stilled and felt George freeze too.
What the—
In the three years Rayna had officially been working for the POTeM project, never had she heard of someone being held in quarantine for that long. Ever.
“Why has he been in quarantine for so long?” she muttered.
The four men looked at each other as if neither of them wanted to answer the question. Then quietly, River said, “He won’t stop being aggressive long enough for us to talk to him and explain what’s going on.”
“But he’s had his first-day introduction, right?” said George. “So why…”
Victor lifted his head for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. “He hasn’t had his introduction.”
Rayna pitched against the table. “Wait, what? What do you mean he hasn’t had his introduction? Nobody told him on the first day why he was here?”
First-day introductions were the most important part of bringing a Study to the present. Without it, they had no way of understanding they were no longer in their own time, but that they were safe and had every right to demand being returned before their quarantine period started.
It didn’t quite forgive the false pretences they were usually invited under, but it was meant to reassure them that the choice was still theirs once the truth was told.
But Lord Norland hadn’t had that talk.
“Like River said,” Monty answered. “He hasn’t stopped being aggressive long enough for us to say more than a few words.”
“But we can’t take him out of quarantine until we talk to him,” Victor added.
“By aggressive…what do you mean exactly?” George asked with cautious quiet.
Monty sighed heavily and scratched his rounded jaw.
“As soon as he woke up, he was thrashing around in anger, yelling and lashing out at anyone who came near him. Not only has he been violent since, but he’s refused to eat too.
As a result, we had to have guards hold him down in order to sedate him and give him an IV drip. And Zack…”
The older man shuffled in his chair, sitting a little straighter. “He was supposed to be Lord Norland’s Guardian, but when we tried to introduce them, Norland attacked Zack, and now he’s been written off work for two weeks and is recovering at home.”
“Fucking Neves,” George muttered.
Rayna swallowed down her discomfort as thick, acidic tar churned through her belly.
Settling in a Study was never easy. Usually, even after first-day introductions were made, many were fearful or teary, and sometimes angry too. But after a few days of assurances and talking, the person warmed up to the idea of exploring the future.
In the case of the marquess, though, his refusal to listen and constant lashing out was extending his suffering rather than ending it, creating what could become a never-ending cycle of distress if it wasn’t disrupted.
“It’s only in the last two days that he’s calmed down and started asking questions,” Monty continued, glancing across his shoulder to George and her.
“Today, since he woke up, he’s exercised, taken a bath, and has changed into fresh clothing.
But otherwise, he’s just been sitting on the bed.
He refused breakfast, so he hasn’t yet eaten. ”
A ticking silence fell around the room.
“He’s scared,” Rayna said, voicing what no one had directly said.
She didn’t blame the lord. Had she been in his position, she knew her defences would have unleashed a similar torrent of blind rage on everyone around her.
“He is,” Monty agreed, a twist forming on his brows. “But no matter what we try, he won’t listen or give us long enough to assure him there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Why not send him back?” George asked.
“How, George?” Victor said in frustration. “He won’t let anyone approach him. And with the amount of Type Two Z-Energy released on the return journey, it wouldn’t be safe to send him back drugged and asleep. Even for a man of his size.”
Silence.
Rayna looked between River and Monty. “Is Zack still going to be his Guardian?”
River shook his head. “No. I’ve accepted his guardianship now.”
“But we can’t take him out of here until he starts cooperating,” Victor repeated.
Rayna’s thoughts whizzed a mile a minute as she stared at Victor before they locked like a slot machine on a very stubborn decision.
He was going to hate her suggestion. But why had he called her back if not to do her job?
She sat up confidently. “I want to meet him. Face-to-face, with no guards.”
“No.” There was barely a second between her declaration and Victor’s refusal. “I haven’t let anyone in there alone. I won’t. Not even you, Rayna.”
“You have to,” she countered. “The whole problem stems from the fact you’re hounding him with too many people at once. It’s terrifying him. He needs to speak to one person who—”
Victor moved upright, a storm clouding over his ice-blue eyes. “There is no arguing on this, Rayna. You are not going in there alone.”
But his furious rejection only stirred her own frustration, fortifying her stubbornness further. She leaned back on it with all her weight.
“He needs to know we’re not a threat, V,” she said.
“What if I go in as well?” George offered.
Victor shot up from his seat so aggressively the chair flew back behind him. “I said no!”
The bang of it hitting the carpeted floor echoed in the small room, shattering the tension but renewing it all the same.
Fizzing blood prickled right under her skin as she gritted her teeth and glared back.
He was worried about her, which was why he was vetoing the one solution that might have worked. But he didn’t need to be.
Rayna wasn’t being reckless and overconfident by putting herself, and therefore others, in a situation she couldn’t handle.
As modestly as she could put it, this part of her job was what she excelled at most. She was good at first-day introductions and talking to Studies, helping them understand what was going on.
Everyone in the room knew that, especially Victor.
But that was the thing about him. Victor Johnson wasn’t always good at separating his role as her adoptive dad from his role as her boss. And right then, he wasn’t thinking objectively as a case manager, but as her worrisome father.
At first glance, he didn’t seem like he had the stress of being a single parent on his shoulders.
Either because he was the stereotypical tall, slim-built scientist with glasses and short, messy blond hair who didn’t look like he cared about anything other than sitting in a lab.
Or because other than the constant line of worry between his straight brows, his ice-blue eyes and neutral expression never gave away that he’d spent his thirties looking after two traumatised children who he’d stepped up for when they’d needed him most.
Rayna owed Victor a lot for everything he’d done for her, and she knew George felt the same. But Victor also had a tendency to forget they were no longer teenagers, and she outright refused to let that dictate her work.
Before she could continue arguing her case, Monty’s deep voice cut through the silence. “Victor…we have to try.”
“No, Monty.” Victor shook his head. “I will not risk her safety, nor anyone else’s, again.” He threw a hand towards the door. “He nearly put Zack in the hospital.”
“Zack was a man,” River muttered almost to himself.
Rayna glanced at the slim man at the head of the table, who was her colleague and her best friend Kelly’s fiancé. His grey eyes seemed to startle when he realised everyone was looking at him, and he pulled his hands out of his chino pockets.
River cleared his throat. “I mean the perceived threat of a man is greater, which is probably why Lord Norland reacted with violence. But we haven’t let him speak to a woman yet. And considering what I know about him and his upbringing, he’s unlikely to react to Rayna with the same violence.”
“River’s right,” George agreed. “Lord Norland is meant to be a gentleman, so he might calm down quicker if he knows he’s facing a woman.”
Rayna’s brain stuttered on the spot, trying to figure out if she was supposed to be offended by their insinuation or not, but she swatted the thought away and let conviction spread her shoulders. “We have to try, V.”
The line between Victor’s brows turned into a deep trench. After a moment, he shuffled on his feet, shaking his head almost pleadingly. “Rayna...no. No, I won’t let you. It’s not safe.”
His resolve was visibly weakening, so she gave one last push. “I know you’re worried, but you have to let me. Keeping him in there any longer is cruel and isn’t fair on everyone else observing him either. And if this is the only way, then let me at least try.”
“We can have the guards on standby right outside the room,” Monty added.
Victor ran a hand down his jaw, then over his hair, continuously shaking his head, physically refusing the idea. But eventually, his movements slowed to a stop, and he let out a fiercely displeased exhale.
“Ten minutes,” he grumbled. “You get ten minutes with him. That’s it. And if he lays one finger on you, I’m pulling you out immediately.”