Page 95 of No Place in Time

Cecily’s hands were shaking. She pressed them together, trying to still them, but it didn’t help.

“Finn,” Lady Veyron whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes moved to him, shining with tears. “Am I seeing things? They said you were dead.”

Finn moved closer to the bed. “I’m alive.”

“You came back.” A tear slid down her hollow cheek. She tried to lift her hand toward him, but the effort seemed too much. Her arm trembled and fell back to the blanket.

This woman—this other self—looked at Finn with a longing so deep it ached inside Cecily’s own ribs. Of course. In any life, in any version of the world, she would love him.

Lady Veyron’s gaze shifted back to Cecily. The confusion in her eyes was painful to see. “I don’t understand,” she breathed. “How…?”

Her voice trailed off. She was too weak to finish the thought, too exhausted to make sense of what she was seeing.

Cecily stepped forward, though her legs felt unsteady. She stood beside the bed, looking down at this woman who was and wasn’t her.

“I know this is hard to understand,” Cecily said softly. “We don’t understand it ourselves.” Her own voice sounded strange to her ears, thick with emotion. “But we’re here to help you.”

“Help?” Lady Veyron’s eyes closed briefly, as if even keeping them open required too much strength. When she opened them again, she asked, “How? They’re poisoning me. Benedict and Julian, my own husband.”

Finn and Cecily exchanged a glance. That would explain the illness, Cecily thought. Lady Veyron looked like the life was being slowly siphoned from her.

A bitter smile crossed Lady Veyron’s lips. “I’ve known for weeks.” Her voice was so faint Cecily had to lean closer to hear. “The wine. It tastes bitter, and I keep getting weaker. At first, I thought I was imagining it. That my illness was making everything taste strange. But then…” she paused. “Then I saw the way Benedict watches me when I drink. The way Julian looks away. They think I don’t notice. But I do.”

Her eyes closed, and for a moment Cecily thought she’d fallen asleep or fainted. When she spoke again, her voice was even softer.

“I’ve tried to refuse the wine. The food. But they force it.” Another tear slid down her gaunt cheek.

“We’re going to stop them,” Cecily said. Her words came out fierce and desperate. “We’re going to fix this.”

Lady Veyron looked at Cecily again. Really looked at her. Her eyes moved over Cecily’s face, her clothes, the way she stood straight and strong.

“You look…” Lady Veyron paused, searching for words. “You look free.”

Cecily felt tears burning her eyes. “I am,” she sobbed. “You will be too. Soon.”

Lady Veyron shook her head, then reached for Cecily’s hand. “I’m glad… I’m glad one of us got away.”

Cecily took her hand. It was cold. So cold. The bones felt fragile beneath translucent skin.

“I don’t understand how,” Lady Veyron whispered, still looking at Cecily with those confused, wondering eyes. “But I’m glad you’re free. That you escaped.”

“We’re going to make sure you’re free too,” Finn said.

Lady Veyron shook her head slightly. “It’s too late. I’m dying. I know I am.”

“No,” Cecily said, her voice breaking. “We’re going to—”

“It’s alright.” Lady Veyron squeezed Cecily’s hand with what little strength she had. “If one of us can live…”

She took a shaky breath. “Live. For both of us. Please.”

Cecily was weeping openly now, tears streaming down her face. “I will. I promise.”

Lady Veyron’s eyes were closing.

Footsteps sounded nearby. Cecily heard heavy boots.

Isabel appeared at the door, her face tight with fear. “Someone’s coming. We must go now.”