Passion

Georgia … in 1992.”

“Oh.” Roland swallowed. “Well, well.” He closed his eyes and started speaking very slowly: “And the stars in the sky fell to the earth, like figs blown off a tree in a gale …”

The words were cryptic, but Roland recited them soulfully, almost like he was quoting a favorite line from an old blues song. The kind of song she’d heard him sing at a karaoke party back at Sword & Cross. In that moment, he seemed like the Roland she knew back home, as if he’d slipped out of this Victorian character for a little while.

Only, there was something else about his words. Luce recognized them from somewhere. “What is that? What does that mean?” she asked.

The cupboard rattled again. More loudly this time.

“Nothing.” Roland’s eyes opened and he was back to his Victorian self. His hands were tough and callused and his biceps were larger than she was used to seeing them. His clothes were soaked with sweat against his dark skin. He looked tired. A heavy sadness fell over Luce.

“You’re a servant here?” she asked. “The others—Arriane—they get to run around and … But you have to work, don’t you? Just because you’re—”

“Black?” Roland said, holding her gaze until she looked away, uncomfortable. “Don’t worry about me, Lucinda. I’ve suffered worse than mortal folly. Besides, I’ll have my day.”

“It gets better,” she said, feeling that any reassurance she gave him would be trite and insubstantial, wondering if what she said was really true. “People can be awful.”

“Well. We can’t worry about them too much, can we?” Roland smiled. “What brought you back here, anyway, Lucinda? Does Daniel know? Does Cam?”

“Cam’s here, too?” Luce shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was.

“If my timing’s right, he’s probably just rolled into town.”

Luce couldn’t worry about that now. “Daniel doesn’t know, not yet,” she admitted. “But I need to find him, and Lucinda, too. I have to know—”

“Look,” Roland said, backing away from Luce, his hands raised, almost as if she were radioactive. “You didn’t see me here today. We didn’t have this talk. But you can’t just go up to Daniel—”

“I know,” she said. “He’ll freak out.”

“ ‘Freak out?’ ” Roland tried out the strange-sounding phrase, almost making Luce laugh. “If you mean he might fall in love with this you”—he pointed at her—“then yes. It’s really quite dangerous. You’re a tourist here.”

“Fine, then I’m a tourist. But I can at least talk to them.”

“No, you can’t. You don’t inhabit this life.”

“I don’t want to inhabit anything. I just want to know why—”

“Your being here is dangerous—to you, to them, to everything. Do you understand?”

Luce didn’t understand. How could she be dangerous? “I don’t want to stay here, I just want to know why this keeps happening between me and Daniel—I mean, between this Lucinda and Daniel.”

“That’s precisely what I mean.” Roland dragged his hand down his face, gave her a hard look. “Hear me: You can observe them from a distance. You can—I don’t know—look through the windows. So long as you know nothing here is yours to take.”

“But why can’t I just talk to them?”

He went to the door and closed and bolted it. When he turned back, his face was serious. “Listen, it is possible that you might do something that changes your past, something that ripples down through time and rewrites it so that you—future Lucinda—will be changed.”

“So I’ll be careful—”

“There is no careful. You are a bull in the china shop of love. You’ll have no way of knowing what you’ve broken or how precious it may be. Any change you enact is not going to be obvious. There will be no great sign reading IF YOU VEER RIGHT, YOU SHALL BE A PRINCESSS, VERSUS IF YOU VEER LEFT, YOU’LL REMAIN A SCULLERY MAID FOREVER.”

“Come on, Roland, don’t you think I have slightly loftier goals than ending up a princess?” Luce said sharply.

“I could venture a guess that there is a curse you want to put an end to?”

Luce blinked at him, feeling stupid.

“Right, then, best of luck!” Roland laughed brightly. “But even if you succeed, you won’t know it, my dear. The very moment you change your past? That event will be as it has always been. And everything that comes after it will be as it has always been. Time tidies up after itself. And you’re part of it, so you will not know the difference.”

“I’d have to know,” she said, hoping that saying it aloud would make it true. “Surely I’d have some sense —”

Roland shook his head. “No. But most certainly, before you could do any good, you would distort the future by making the Daniel of this era fall in love with you instead of that pretentious twit Lucinda Biscoe.”

“I need to meet her. I need to see why they love each other—”

Roland shook his head again. “It would be even worse to get involved with your past self, Lucinda. Daniel at least knows the dangers and can mind himself so as not to drastically alter time. But Lucinda Biscoe? She doesn’t know anything.”

“None of us ever do,” Luce said around a sudden lump in her throat.

“This Lucinda, she doesn’t have a lot of time left. Let her spend it with Daniel. Let her be happy. If you overstep into her world and anything changes for her, it could change for you, too. And that could be most unfortunate.”

Roland sounded like a nicer, less sarcastic version of Bill. Luce didn’t want to hear any more about all the things she couldn’t do, shouldn’t do. If she could just talk to her past self—

“What if Lucinda could have more time?” she asked. “What if—”

“It’s impossible. If anything, you’ll just hasten her end. You’re not going to change anything by having a chat with Lucinda. You’re just going to make a mess of your past lives along with your current one.”

“My current life is not a mess. And I can fix things. I have to.”

“I suppose that remains to be seen. Lucinda Biscoe’s life is over, but your ending has yet to be written.” Roland dusted off his hands on his trouser legs. “Maybe there is some change you can work into your life, into the grand story of you and Daniel. But you will not do that here.”

As Luce felt her lips stiffen into a pout, Roland’s face softened.

“Look,” he said. “At least I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?”

“No one else is going to tell you this, but we’re all rooting for you. I don’t know what brought you here or how the journey was even possible. But I have to think it’s a good sign.” He studied her until she felt ridiculous. “You’re coming into yourself, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Luce said. “I think so. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Good.”

Voices in the hallway made Roland suddenly pull away from Luce, toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, unbolting the door and quietly slipping out.

As soon as Roland was gone, the cupboard door swung open, banging the back of her leg. Bill popped out, gasping for air loudly as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time.

“I could wring your neck right now!” he said, his chest heaving.

“I don’t know why you’re all out of breath. It’s not like you even breathe.”

“It’s for effect! All the trouble I go through to camouflage you here and you go and out yourself to the first guy who walks through the door.”

Luce rolled her eyes. “Roland’s not going to make a big deal out of seeing me here. He’s cool.”

“Oh, he’s so cool,” Bill said. “He’s so smart. If he’s so great, why didn’t he tell you what I know about not keeping one’s distance from one’s