Page 70 of No Place in Time

“And all this… you would leave it?”

“This was never my life to have,” Cecily said, her gaze fixed on the woods ahead. “Not with him.”

Isabel nodded slowly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

The carriage slowed. They were on Veyron land now, the fields spreading out on either side. In the distance, Cecily could see the forest.

“We’re close,” Isabel said. “Best step off here.”

Cecily climbed down. The afternoon sun was already sinking toward the horizon.

“The path is there.” Isabel pointed. “I pray you find him.”

“Thank you, dear friend,” said Cecily, embracing her.

Isabel pressed a handful of coins into Cecily’s hands, then pushed her away. “Go. Quickly.”

Cecily gathered her skirts and ran.

37

CECILY

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Cecily ran the last paces with all her strength, her breath coming in gasps, her satchel bouncing against her hip.

The widow’s cottage appeared through the trees, smoke rising from its chimney. She pounded on the door. Alys flung it open, eyes widening.

“My lady?”

“Where is he? Where’s Finn?”

Finn appeared behind Alys, moving toward the door.

“Julian knows,” Cecily said, gasping. “About the machine. He sent men.”

“They were here this morning,” Finn said, grabbing a small pack from beside the hearth. “I hid the machine before they arrived. We need to go now.”

One child called from the window. “Mama, horses!”

Alys moved to look. Her face paled. “More riders,” she said. “Veyron men.”

In the distance, seven or eight riders were moving fast across the fields, with the Veyron banner visible above them.

Finn took Cecily’s hand. “Come on.”

As they burst through the back door, Alys raised a hand in a silent, desperate farewell. A child’s shout—“Finn!”—was swallowed as they crashed toward the tree line. Finn didn’t look back, already tearing away branches and old sacking to reveal the machine in its shallow hollow.

They each grabbed a side and lifted. It was heavier than Cecily expected, awkward to carry. They started toward the forest.

Behind them they heard shouts. The riders had reached the cottage.

The forest floor was uneven, with roots snaking across the path. Cecily’s skirts caught on branches. She yanked them free and kept moving. Her arms burned from the weight of the machine. Beside her, Finn’s face was tight with pain, his breathing labored.

Men’s voices shouting. Hoofbeats stopping. The crash of men dismounting.

“They went into the woods!” one man shouted. “Find them!”