Twists in Time

by Various

  “I think it preferable to your cutting arm.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” she breathed.

  “Where are you from?” he asked as he began to saw on the branch. “You don’t sound English, and you’re definitely not Portuguese.”

  She sucked in a breath at the pain the sawing motion caused. “Why would I be Portuguese?”

  He stopped sawing. “Because… you are in… Portugal.”

  “Oh right,” she said as she began to tremble. Her stomach lurched. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Sick? Well, it is a bit cold. And you are drenched.”

  “No, not that kind of sick. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “Puke?”

  He shook his head.

  “Vomit.”

  “Ah! Well, do not vomit on me.”

  She sighed. “I’ll try not to.”

  “So what is your name?”

  “Evie.”

  “I am going to guess your real name is Eve.”

  “Actually no, it’s Evelyn.” She sucked in a breath as the knife slipped and jarred her arm.

  “Sorry. Once we have it cut, we should be able to pull it from your arm. I do think we should wait to pull it out until you’ve been seen by my physician.”

  “Your physician?”

  “The one on my ship.”

  “Wait a minute. You don’t own the ship, do you?”

  “Actually, it’s my father’s.”

  “Ah, so your father’s a captain?”

  “No. My father’s a king.”

  Evie sat in silence, staring at the man in front of her. “You’re joking,” she finally said, scrutinizing him more closely. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Although his clothes did look expensive.

  “About being a prince?” He barked a laugh. “Only a fool would joke about such a thing—a fool who is not very fond of keeping his head. Truly, I am a prince, though not an important one. I have six older brothers so will likely never ascend to the throne.

  “And you…” he continued. “Your clothes are strange. Either you were stripped down and jumped to escape an attacker, or perhaps you are a harlot who angered a customer.”

  “Did you just call me a harlot?” Evie’s anger rose.

  He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well, you are hanging here half naked. Not that I mind. You are well built and easy to look on.”

  Suddenly, Evie felt naked. In California, no one would’ve batted an eye at her tank top and shorts. But in the 1600s, it would be a lot less clothing than people were used to. Her face burned with embarrassment. She decided it best to lie. “I was robbed, if you must know. Someone took my clothes and pushed me off this cliff.”

  “Oh, really?” He looked doubtful.

  “Sire!” a voice called in the distance.

  “Down here!” he shouted back.

  A blond head popped over the cliff. “What in blazes are you doing down there?”

  “Rescuing a damsel.”

  “Oh, bloody buggars. How did she get down there?”

  “She was robbed and pushed over the side. Bring us back a rope and a blanket to cover her. Oh, and tell the doctor to expect us.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “So Evelyn, you never told me where you are from.”

  Evie tried to rack her brains for a believable answer. What other countries spoke English in this day and age? She couldn’t think of a single one, and she couldn’t remember if England had settlements in America yet. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  Finally, he cut through the branch and Evie fell against his chest. He dropped his knife and wrapped his arm around her. “There now,” he said as he helped her to step onto the branch herself and loosened his grip.

  The limb hung from her forearm. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of foliage on it. She nearly lost her footing, and he caught her before she could fall.

  “I think it best if I hold onto you,” he said.

  “Uh, yeah. That’s probably a good idea. ” After hours of swimming and then hanging impaled in a tree, she was as weak as a newborn kitten.

  “You are not going to vomit on me, are you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t feel sick anymore.”

  “Good.” He nodded, and then narrowed his eyes. “Now, it is probably going to be a few minutes before Connor comes back with the rope. I have a few things I am curious about.”

  She looked in his eyes, wishing this gorgeous prince would stop asking questions. Actually, she wished he would kiss her.

  No! Don’t even go there, Evie!

  “You say I wouldn’t believe where you are from,” he said. “So how about I venture some guesses and if I am right, you can confirm my answer?”

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly.

  He sighed, looking at her closely. “First things first, is English your native tongue?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “Your accent is strange. Are your parents foreigners?”

  “Of what country?”

  “Of England of course.”

  “Oh, right. Yes, they are foreigners.”

  “Thus the accent and unusual words. I’m assuming you were raised outside of England?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it a country in Europe?”

  “No.”

  “Then you were raised somewhere in Asia.”

  Evie pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “Africa?”

  Again, she shook her head.

  “Then where were you raised?”

  “Uh-uh,” she said. “You have to guess.”

  “Was it on an island?”

  “No.”

  His eyes opened wide. “That leaves me with… No. You could not.”

  “Sire! We have the rope.”

  He ignored the men above as he gazed in wonder at her. “Were you raised in the Americas?”

  She nodded slowly, curious at his expression. Would he think she was crazy?

  “Sire?”

  He shook himself out of his apparent stupor and answered. “Yes. Yes, I am ready. Throw it down.”

  He caught the rope as it came down, then expertly ran the rope around her hips, creating a seating harness, and tied it off. “Try to keep the branch from bumping against the cliff.”

  “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that one out on my own.”

  He smiled as he shook his head. The rope pulled from above, and she lost her footing. As he steadied her, his hand bumped against the Ora. Her heart took a leap as she worried he’d accidentally push the button. Who knew where she’d end up? She probably wouldn’t survive the next time jump.

  “What’s this?” he asked. Clamping his hand over her arm, he pulled her wrist forward.

  Her heart dropped, knowing what he was seeing—a digital date lit up in the watch’s face. Something you definitely wouldn’t see in the 17th century. Why, oh why, didn’t she flip the cover over to close it?

  He turned accusing eyes on her.

  “We are waiting for your signal, sire,” the man above said.

  “Just a moment,” he called back. He pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and tied it over the Ora. “Don’t let anyone see that. You and I will have a lot to talk about when we get back to my ship, but it will have to wait until we are alone.” The iciness of his voice terrified her. What if he accused her of being a witch? The way he looked at her told her he just might think she was.

  “Um, you’ve already done enough,” she said. “I can find my way.”

  He pressed his lips into a tight line. “You have a branch impaled in your arm.”

  “I’ll pull it out myself.”

  “Can you promise me you’ll survive such an injury?”

  She swallowed, thinking about infection and gangrene, not to mention the fact she didn’t think she’d have the stomach to pull it out. But all those things would be preferable to burni
ng at the stake. That was what they did to witches during this time, didn’t they?

  “Yes,” she answered. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

  He frowned at her. “You’re lying.”

  “No, I’m—”

  “Quiet,” he snapped. “You will come with me, and you will not say a word to anyone else. I want you to pretend you cannot speak. Understand?”

  He fixed his eyes on her, apparently waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, I understand.” Seriously, she hoped she understood his actions. He seemed to want to protect her. Why else would he hide the Ora?

  He looked up and shouted, “She’s ready. Pull her up.”

  An hour later, Evie lay on the bed in the cabin of a ship, trying not to look at her arm. The doctor wasn’t able to pull out the branch. It seemed to be fused into her arm. The best they could do was cut it flush to her skin, leaving ringed, wood circles the size of dimes. She had kept quiet, just like she said she would, as the doctor rambled on in confusion. In the end, the prince paid the doctor a small bag of gold coins and sent him on his way. Actually, now that she thought about it, that seemed like a lot of money for the job the doctor did. Perhaps the prince was bribing him to keep quiet.

  “Okay, Evelyn of the Americas, I think I deserve some answers. And I want the truth.”

  The anger in his voice caused something inside her to snap. Tears burned in her eyes and leaked, spilling down her temples. The plan she’d made was so clear. Go back in time and save her parents. Instead, here she was, stuck in the sixteen hundreds, alone, afraid, and missing her home. Even without her parents there, she missed her bed, missed the sanctuary that was her room, missed the high school and all its drama, and most of all, she missed the sister that had tried to stop her from making the second worst mistake of her life.

  If only Kalli were here. She’d know exactly what to do. Her genius of a brain would be able to figure out how to get her back. If Kalli were here, everything would be fine.

  A sob racked her chest.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No,” she said as she shook her head and wiped the wetness from her cheek.

  “I cannot abide tears,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot, only to switch to the other.

  “Well, that’s good because I’m not crying.”

  He looked her over and sighed. “I am sorry. You obviously have had a trying day. Please, I just need to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Who are you? Where are you from?”

  “You’d think I was crazy.”

  “I find that doubtful,” he said as he glanced at her arm. She followed his gaze and cringed at the wooden circle. “Who are you, really? Have you spoken truthfully?”

  “Mostly,” she said and sniffed.

  “What did you lie about?”

  Should she tell him? He obviously knew that something was strange in this situation. And her arm made the biggest argument for her. Heck, even in the 21st century, people would freak out over that. Yet, he is still willing to help protect her. Taking a deep breath, she took a leap of faith.

  “I wasn’t robbed, and I wasn’t pushed off the cliff.”

  “I already knew that.”

  “What? How?”

  “You are a terrible liar, Evelyn. So how did you get there?”

  “I came from the future.”

  “The future?”

  She nodded, searching his face to gage his reaction. He seemed composed, but there was tightness around his eyes.

  “Is that why the band on your wrist shows today’s date? It sent you here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it a witch’s talisman?”

  She shook her head. “It was made by a scientist—my sister actually.”

  “Your sister is not a witch?”

  “There’s no such thing as witches.”

  He pressed his lips together, doubt filling his eyes. “So what time did you come from?”

  “Nearly four hundred years in the future.”

  Shock spread over his face as his eyes darted back and forth from the Ora to the wood infused in her arm. He sank down to sit on the bed beside her.

  “Do you believe me?” she asked.

  He nodded his acceptance. “What is it like? Living in your time?”

  “It’s hard to explain. It’s pretty different.”

  “The clothes you are wearing… is that typical?”

  “Yeah, I wear these kinds of clothes when I want to be comfortable. Or when I’m jogging.”

  “Jogging?”

  “Running.”

  “What do you run from?”

  She smiled at his question. “I’m not running from anything, I run to exercise. To keep myself in shape.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Hmm. Well, in the twenty-first century, we are less active than you are now. When we go places, we travel in cars—they’re like carriages without horses. And then if we want to talk to our friends, we call them on our cell phone. It’s a little box that will let you hear their voice, even when they’re far away.”

  “And if you want to journey to another time,” he said, “you travel with that thing on your wrist.”

  “Actually... I stole this thing on my wrist from my sister. It’s the only one of its kind, and it wasn’t ready for someone to use it. It actually doesn’t work very well. I put in the time and push this red button, but it never takes me to the right time, and I end up in strange places.”

  “So you did not mean to come to here?”

  She shook her head. “I only wanted to go back one year, and I never meant to leave California.”

  “You wanted to go back only one year?”

  Evie sighed. “To save my parents.”

  “Ah,” he said softly. “They have died.”

  She jumped when he brushed her hair away from her face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his hand away.

  She turned to him as he sat near, his eyes looking into hers. “It’s okay.”

  “I lost someone I love too—my younger sister. She died from smallpox. Do people still die from such things in your time?”

  She shook her head. “Not so much. We have really good medicine that cures a lot of illnesses. I’m sorry about your sister.” Evie’s heart pounded when she looked at his lips.

  He touched her chin. “Are all women in your time so beautiful?”

  Her gaze shot to his eyes. “Um, I don’t know. I… don’t know how you can think I look beautiful. My hair has to be a mess, and I’m not even wearing any makeup.”

  “Makeup?”

  “Um… it’s stuff you put on your face to make you look more beautiful.”

  He scrunched his eyebrows together.

  “Like paint.”

  Understanding lightened his eyes, and he raised an eyebrow. “In this time, good, proper women do not paint their faces.”

  “Hmm. Well, that will make getting ready in the morning easier. So you really think I’m pretty?”

  “Yes.” The warmth in his voice stirred something inside her. Before she could figure out what it was, he leaned forward, his gaze intense. She raised her hand, and her fingertips brushed his cheek. He must have taken her action as an invitation, because her touch was soon followed by the touch of his lips on hers. The kiss filled her with warmth, comfort, and made her tremble as she closed her eyes. He may have been born four hundred years before her, but he sure knew how to kiss. He pulled away too quickly.

  “Forgive me,” he breathed. “I should not have been so bold. You barely know me. Besides—” His eyes flew open wide. “You are not married, are you?”

  “Married?” she squeaked in surprise. “I’m only sixteen.”

  “Is that not old enough to be married in your time?”

  “No, not usually. My mom told me I couldn’t get married until I was at least twenty-five. But then, she was always overprotective.”

  “That is a long
time to wait—” He took her hand.

  The door to the cabin slammed open, and soldiers rushed inside. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” A man with a shiny, bald head rushed in behind them. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” He dropped her hand and stood, stepping in front of her.

  The soldiers gathered in a semicircle surrounding them. They parted as the physician was pushed between them, stumbling at his feet. “I’m sorry, sire,” the doctor said. “I only meant to protect you. There is an evil curse on that woman. The evil must be purged.”

  Purged?

  “And how do you intend to purge her of the evil?” the prince said as he reached back as if to block her from the threat.

  “I tried to convince them that all we need to do is cut off her arm,” the doctor said. “But they won’t listen.”

  “She will be burned at the stake,” one of the soldiers said, speaking with a heavy accent. “Only then can we be certain the evil has been eliminated.”

  Evie looked down at the Ora. Should she? She’d die either way. Besides, ending up inside a mountain would probably be a much easier death than burning alive. Okay, one more try. She punched in another date. Please, oh please, let this work. If there’s a god above, please let this work. Before she could push the button, the prince was being pushed aside. A monster of a man clamped his hand over her arm and pulled her forward.

  “What are you doing?” He looked down at the Ora—the numbers shone brightly. “What evil is this?”

  “Remove it,” another soldier ordered.

  “No!” the doctor shouted. “Don’t touch it, lest the evil afflict you also.”

  “Burn it with the witch!” a voice called from the crowd.

  “Yes, burn it with her,” said another voice.

  “No,” the prince shouted. “I order you to release her!”

  “You are a prince of England; you have no right to order us.”

  “It is for the best, Your Majesty,” the doctor said. “I’m afraid you are bewitched. I’d hoped this woman was a simple victim, but just now I saw her casting a spell over her talisman. There can be no doubt; she is a witch, and a harbinger of evil. We must burn her, and quickly, before she can cast anymore spells.”

  “I’m not a witch!” Evie screamed over and over as they dragged her off the ship and down a cobble street. Two soldiers had a hold of her—each holding one arm. She couldn’t get to the Ora to save her life. A crowd gathered, trailing behind them and lining the streets. There was a rumbling of voices and a sea of excited faces. Apparently, they loved a good public execution here.