by M. S. Parker
I gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“What will we tell my father?” Gracen asked. “How will we explain this?”
I frowned at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked. “We don't have to tell your father anything. It’s clear that what happened last night meant absolutely nothing to you, so let’s just act like it never happened, and we can both go about our lives.”
“Act like nothing happened?” His surprise showed on his face. “How can we act like nothing happened?”
“Just forget it,” I snapped back. “This isn’t the first time I've seen a man act like a bastard after sex.”
Technically, that was true, but I knew it wasn't really comparable. Gracen, however, didn't know that.
He flinched. “What?”
“Did you think this was my first time?” I could hear the bitterness in my laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, Master Lightwood. You're not responsible for taking my virginity, so don't feel like you owe me anything.”
I started to push past him, only to be stopped when he grabbed my arm. My hand curled into a fist, and I barely managed to keep myself from punching him.
“It was a trick,” Gracen hissed at me. “Last night was a ruse. You seduced me!”
I yanked my arm from his grip but didn't back away. “You kissed me,” I reminded him. “You brought me to your room.”
“Trickery,” he said, his lips curling in anger. “You planned it all, didn't you? You intended to get pregnant and trap me into marriage.”
I slapped him even as I felt the color drain from my face. I'd never been so humiliated, having someone accuse me of trying to trick...I couldn't even think of it. Tears stung my eyes. It was one thing to hurt over a miscommunication about what last night had meant to each of us. It was something completely different to be accused of something so manipulative and cruel.
The fact that he could think me capable of such a thing told me that I didn't know him as well as I thought I did.
And that my father had been right. Acting on emotion was stupid, and all I had now was regret.
“I have work to do,” I said. “Excuse me, Master Gracen.” I practically ran from the room before he could respond.
I didn’t want to be anywhere near him right now. In fact, all I wanted was to go home. My real home and time. I didn't want to be here anymore.
Twenty-Two
After quickly washing up with the tepid water I had in my room, I changed into my other dress. I didn't linger, didn't look at anyone as I hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the water buckets without being told they needed filled. Titus gave me a startled but approving look as I stepped out into the hot summer morning. He continued to send me surprised glances as I moved from one chore to the other, working with the sort of speedy efficiency I'd learned growing up in a military house. I didn't speak to anyone, didn't make eye contact.
I was pretty sure that Titus assumed it was his influence that had sparked the change, but, the truth was, I only wanted to keep my mind off Gracen. I didn't really care what the steward or anyone else thought of me, not that I knew now what Gracen's assessment of my character was.
I hated myself for sleeping with him, for believing that he'd look at sex with me as anything other than a mistake. I felt like a fool. I'd only known Gracen for a little over a week, and I'd thought we had some sort of special connection.
How could I have been so stupid? How had I let my emotions get the better of my judgment? I had been careful in the past few years to not let that happen, always trying to make logical decisions, things that could be calculated and planned. I supposed this was what I got for following my heart.
Still, I couldn't stop myself from being a little disappointed when the whole day passed without seeing Gracen at all. I told myself it was better that way, that I needed to cool down, to reevaluate my situation, and to really think about what the hell I was doing here in the first place. And what I should do next.
Gracen had been a distraction, I told myself. I still had no idea how I'd gotten to this time and place, but I'd given the matter too little thought over the past few days. I'd originally told myself that once I knew I was safe, I could take the time to start working through the problem.
Except all I'd really thought about was Gracen and a lot of good that had done me.
By the time evening came around, I'd finished up my work, and the skies outside were turning a bright red mixed with velvet darkness. I'd also finally managed to work the anger out of me.
More or less.
Wiping my hands on a hand cloth, I untied my apron and slumped heavily into the closest chair. It was quiet in the kitchen, and for a moment, I could almost pretend that everything I was trying to forget hadn't really happened.
“Master Lightwood is a happy man today.”
Dye's voice came from my right. I opened my eyes and watched her set a couple of empty buckets by the door, ready to be filled tomorrow first thing in the morning. I contemplated getting the task over and done with now before I went to bed, if only to see the surprise on Titus's face.
“He’s a smilin’ and a toastin’ like he be one of dem generals fightin’ the war.”
I frowned at her, a pang of something sharp going through my chest at the thought that Gracen had spent the day cheerful when I'd been so utterly miserable.
“What’s got him so happy?” I asked, wondering if I had possibly missed Clara’s arrival. Surely he'd be happy to see his unspoiled fiancée. I knew the Lightwoods were entertaining guests; I just hadn’t cared enough to find out who.
“The young Master Lightwood, he’s gone and joined the Redcoats. Left just after breakfast.” She gave me a curious look, as if I should've known.
I felt my heart jump into my throat, and my eyes widen in surprise. Whatever anger I'd felt towards Gracen earlier was now replaced by dread and worry. I looked at Dye in disbelief, unable to wrap my head around what she just said.
“Gracen?”
Dye nodded. “Master Lightwood gots himself a nice bit of attention now,” the black woman said in disgust. It was clear where her loyalties were. “Would almost serve him right if those rebels sent his boy back in a box.”
I jumped to my feet and grabbed Dye's arm. “Don't say things like that!” My voice came out more harshly than I'd intended.
She pulled her arm away, and I let it go. Her eyes flashed as she stared up at me.
“You’s a fool, Honor Daviot. Ain’t no place for the likes of you in a Lightwood bed.”
My eyes widened even as heat flooded my face. How many people knew what happened between us? He'd acted like what we'd done had been something to be ashamed of, but maybe once I'd told him that I'd had sex before, he'd changed his mind and decided that bedding a servant might be something to brag about.
“You best be findin’ your way home, or wherever you going, and leave matters here be,” Dye warned, her voice soft. “Dis ain’t no place for a girl like you.”
I was still trying to figure out how to reply when she whirled around and walked away. I stayed where I was, watching her go. A few minutes later, I retreated to my own room, not wanting to risk running into anyone else.
Unsurprisingly, sleep didn't want to come. I couldn’t stop thinking of the many ways Gracen’s military venture would end badly, the different scenarios playing out in grotesque details in my mind. He definitely didn’t lack bravery, and he had killed that soldier when it came down to it, but I knew that the war would stretch out for years to come. Too much could happen before the end, and even if he survived, his world would be changed forever.
I contemplated running after him, stealing away in the dead of the night and finding my way to where he'd enlisted. I thought that maybe the details would be in the study somewhere, and if I was careful and quiet, I could learn where he was stationed and get him out of there before he got himself killed.
It was my fault, I finally admitted. That's why the guilt was eating me. His enlis
tment was my fault. We'd been at each other’s throats this morning, and now he was gone, off to join the Redcoats in a war they would lose. To spite me, because I'd told him not to do it.
If something happened to him, I'd never forgive myself. I had to find him.
I couldn’t just sit here and wait, going about my daily chores as if I didn't know what was coming. I stood up suddenly, making my way to the dresser and pulling out my uniform. I'd found the camouflage pants and shirt the other day, patches of blood still dried from my encounter with the Redcoats. They were clean now. All I needed to do was put them on, and I'd be ready to go.
As I started to pull my nightgown off, my father’s words raced back to the forefront of my thoughts. I could almost picture him standing in front of me, frowning in disapproval, warning me of how I was, yet again, letting my emotions get the better of me.
That if I was going to get home, I needed to stop worrying about Gracen and start using my head.
This was absurd. I couldn’t do this. I knew nothing of the world outside other than what little I’d read in my brother’s books, and even that hadn't been enough for the real thing. In theory, I knew the area, but I knew what it would be like in more than two centuries, not what it was like now.
Shit.
I stared out the small window above my bed into the starry night beyond. I was a stranger here. This wasn't my time, and I knew I'd only made it this far because of Gracen. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know where to start. If Ennis was here, he would've known enough to really help. Me? I read one book years ago. Everything else was what little I remembered from high school. It wasn't much. At least not enough to do what I needed to do.
I balled my fists, feeling my nails cutting into my palms. I hated that I had to acknowledge my helplessness, that I couldn't do this without help. I may have saved Gracen's life, but I couldn't deny that he'd saved mine as well.
Damn you, Gracen Lightwood.
I was angry at him all over again. I was angry at how he'd made me fall for him, how he'd taken my attention away from the more important matter of finding my way home. How he'd just up and left me behind without so much as a goodbye.
And I hated myself more for caring about any of it.
I sank back onto my bed, the anger draining as quickly as it came. I couldn't take any more of this. I might not know what I wanted to do about re-enlisting or about my idiot of a fiancé, but at least there, I had family, a place I knew.
I had to get home.
That was the only solution. I had to find some way back home. There was nothing for me here, not that there should be. Whatever delusions I momentarily had, whatever false opinions I'd used to shroud the truth, I couldn’t do it anymore. This wasn't my home, and it never would be. I shouldn’t be here.
I had to find my way back.
Twenty-Three
“Why’s you lookin’ at me like dat?”
Dye stood completely still in the kitchen doorway, buckets in her hands, eyeing me suspiciously as I watched her. I shook my head slowly and then went back to what I was doing.
I wasn't entirely sure what I expected, but when I finally managed to fall asleep, my dreams had been full of flashes and chaotic images. The only thing I could remember when I woke, however, was that I needed to talk to Dye. She was my ticket out of here and back to where I belonged.
Now that Dye was actually there, I couldn’t think of how to even start explaining what I needed from her. Hell, I didn't entirely know what I needed. She'd always been a little curious about me, and I wasn’t completely certain that she hadn’t somehow figured out my secret. If she knew, then it was safe to assume she might also know how my time jump had occurred and might even know what I could do to reverse it, because if she understood traveling through time...
It made my head hurt.
Yet now, in the kitchen with all the other women, with Dye casting suspicious looks in my direction, I found it hard to approach her. What could I even say? I had no idea where to start, especially if I was wrong and Dye knew nothing.
Maybe the girl was just extremely intuitive, and in reality had no idea what I had been through. It was clear I was out of place, that I didn’t belong here, but it didn’t take a genius to know that. Maybe Dye just had a knack for saying the right things at the right time. In some ways, she reminded me of the gypsy ladies during carnival season back home.
“If you gonna keep lookin’ at me dat way, I best be makin’ maself pretty,” Dye said, as she dried her hands. “You got somethin’ to tell me, Honor?”
I looked over her shoulder at the other women around us, noticing how some had edged their way closer to us and were eavesdropping on our conversation. I wondered how many were listening for anything they could pass along to Roston, and how many were looking for gossip about me and Gracen.
I made a decision. “Not here,” I said. “Outside at the well.” If she didn't know anything, then I'd be back at square one, but at least I'd know I was doing whatever possible to get home.
Dye smiled at me and pushed a bucket in my direction. “Good,” she said. “We got us a few more of dese to fill.”
I watched until we were standing at the well, buckets by our side, before I asked the only question that mattered. “What do you know about time travel?”
“Whatcha mean by time travel?” Dye pulled a blade of grass and chewed on the end of it as she leaned against the well.
“Moving through time.” I chose my words carefully. “Like going to the future...or the past.”
“Now why'd anyone wanna do dat?” she asked, regarding me shrewdly. “Past’s better left alone, and future’s comin’ whether we likes it or not.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I straightened and stretched the muscles in my back. Being active in the army meant I was in shape, but it didn't mean I wasn't feeling it. I struggled to find the words. “What if someone traveled in time without wanting to? Like they were forced into it, and they couldn’t do anything about it.”
She eyed me for a beat before she clicked her tongue and laughed, a rich, full sound. “You speakin’ nonsense, Honor,” she said. “The sun’s getting’ to ya.”
“I’m serious.” I refused to let it go. “What if someone wanted to go home? How would they do that?”
She spat and scratched her scalp, looking off at the extensive grounds of the estate as if looking for the answers around us. In that moment, she looked less like a young servant, and more like some sort of wise woman. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I was certain that she would have answers for me.
“You’s been chased from home, dat it?”
All the air rushed from my lungs, and my shoulders slumped in defeat. For some reason, I'd thought this would all be over soon. That Dye would have answers for me, and I'd just follow them. I'd be home in no time.
“Dat your explanation for actin’ strange all day?”
“I wasn’t chased from anywhere, Dye,” I said, exasperated. I ran my hands through my hair. “I actually like my home, and I want to go back.”
Dye’s head snapped toward me, and she eyed me for what seemed like forever, as if trying to decide whether or not I'd completely lost my mind. Finally, she shook her head.
“You ain’t never made any sense, Honor,” she said. “I know dis all about Master Gracen runnin’ off to dem Redcoats?”
“This has nothing to do with Gracen,” I quickly argued.
“I ain't a fool,” Dye said. “I seen da two of you together. How he always be lookin' at you, even when he pretend he don't be. It’s a miracle Master Lightwood and little Miss Clara ain’t got a clue, or you be in some serious trouble.”
“Nothing is going on,” I said again.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’s sure about dat?”
“Positive.”
“Den must’ve been someone else I heard hollerin' in his room dat night.” She grinned at me.
I froze, my eyes wide as her words sank in, and I could imme
diately feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Shit. How the hell could I talk my way out of this one? Dye chuckled when she saw the look on my face and waved her hand at me.
“If I could count ‘ow many times white men sleep wid da help, I be countin’ 'til kingdom come.”
I grabbed the pump handle and started working it again so I wouldn’t have to respond. My night with Gracen couldn't have been like that. He wasn't like that. The fact that he'd freaked out so badly was an indication that he wasn't in the habit of sleeping with random women. But if anyone else knew about our night together, they'd assume I was just one in a long line of servants who warmed his bed.
I frowned. I didn't really care what anyone thought of me, but I hated the idea of anyone thinking poorly of Gracen. Then again, maybe sleeping with the staff would be something that Roston would consider manly. He seemed like he'd be that sort of chauvinistic asshole.
“So you be feelin’ guilty and wanna run away,” Dye continued as if her statement explained my question.
I shook my head, even though, deep down, I knew that Dye's words were probably truer than I wanted to admit. I didn't want to think about that though. I couldn't think about Gracen right now. I needed to focus on getting home.
“Is there magic that can send me home?” I asked, hating myself for the desperation in my voice.
“A horse can take you home, girl.” She smiled at me. “Ain’t need no magic for dat.”
I stopped what I was doing and looked up at her. “Dye, I’m serious.”
“I’s as serious as you, Honor,” she countered. “You ain’t need to go meddlin’ in things you know nothin’ ‘bout. Ain’t no magic gonna erase da past, and ain’t no magic gonna bring da future. You best be leavin’ it at dat.”
I sighed, trying to hold back my frustration, knowing I was getting nowhere with this conversation. I needed to try something else. Suddenly, I remembered the volumes of books lining the shelves in the study. Maybe I could find answers there. I just needed to find a way to get my hand on them without being noticed. I was pretty sure Master Lightwood wouldn't think too kindly of any of the help touching things that didn't belong to them.
