Page 99 of No Place in Time

Part Five

Homecoming

“There is a kind of magicness about going far away and then coming back all changed.”

Kate Douglas Wiggin, New Chronicles of Rebecca

47

CECILY

1239

The world snapped back with a jolt that drove Cecily to her knees. Cold cobblestones raked at her skin through her skirts. The muffled ringing in her ears pressed inward from all sides, as though her skull had been packed with wool.

Finn’s arms were still locked around her as they knelt on the ground. His heart was pounding so hard she could feel it against her own chest. His lips were parted, still close to hers from the kiss that had carried them through the decades.

Cecily blinked hard, trying to focus her eyes. Slowly, shapes emerged from the glare. She was on the ground. Stones beneath her hands. A courtyard wall.

“Finn?” Her voice came out hoarse, scraped raw. Her stomach was churning.

His hands came up to frame her face, his eyes moving over her in that rapid, searching way—her forehead, her eyes, her mouth—as though he needed to account for every part of her.

“We’re alive,” he breathed. “You’re—”

Then his gaze snapped past her shoulder. His whole body went still.

“What?” Cecily twisted to follow his stare. “What is it?”

“It’s Veyron,” Finn said. “My home. From before.”

They were in a courtyard, the same one, yet not. The towers seemed shorter, the ivy on the east wall thicker than she remembered from 1301. The whole space felt smaller. It took her a moment to place the memory: Julian, boasting of his grand renovations, paid for with coin stolen from other times. This was Veyron before his greed reshaped it.

Smoke rose from the manor chimneys in spirals. The smell of wood fire filled the air, mixed with the scent of horses. Somewhere nearby, chickens clucked. A dog barked once, then fell silent.

It was quiet. Peaceful. No guards shouting. No Benedict raging. Just afternoon sunlight slanting golden rays across the cobblestones.

They’d made it. They were back in 1239.

Then Lady Veyron’s plea echoed in Cecily’s mind:

Live. For both of us. Please.

“We did it,” Cecily whispered. “We actually did it.”

Finn’s attention shifted back to the machine. “I need to check the dials. Make sure nothing was damaged in the—”

His hand met solid metal casing.

Then nothing.

The air shimmered. They heard a faint sound like a candle being snuffed. The smell of hot metal stung Cecily’s nose.

The machine had vanished.

“What—” Cecily grabbed at the space where it had been. Her hands closed on air. “What happened? Where did it go?”

Finn was on his feet, turning in a circle, scanning the courtyard as if the machine might have simply rolled away. “I don’t know. It’s never done this. It always stays.” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice sharp with disbelief. “I checked the… maybe they changed it… the settings. It should be right here.”