A Tale of Two Centuries

I yank my bottom lip between my teeth and gnaw like a rabbit. My head rocks back and forth, the vexing tug of war beginning again between what I want to do and what I know I should do.

No gentlemen are present, I tell myself, even as a voice sounding suspiciously like Mama’s whispers, A lady must always follow society’s expectations.

But Reyna and I are alone. No one would ever have to know.

I stare at my slippers again, and a new, more daring voice joins the festivities in my crowded head. Just think of it as a simple experiment, Less.

And that decides it.

Smiling, I lift my chin in the air the way I imagine my cousin would, kick off my slippers, and wiggle my toes on the cool, gritty stone. The sensation is scandalously splendid. And deliciously wicked. I wiggle them again and giggle.

Reyna’s snort of amusement snaps me back, reminding me where I am. She bends to place my slippers on the bottom shelf of an elaborate wooden structure, dusts her hands twice, then gives a curt nod. “Come.”

With that, she tromps ahead. I tiptoe in her wake, my wide eyes growing accustomed to the flickering candlelight. On either side of the dotted aisle are never-ending shelves, one side boasting jeweled mysterious objects and the other unlit candles, pottery jars, and numerous labeled vials. It reminds me of an apothecary, though I doubt Reyna traveled five hundred years in time to prepare a remedy for my occasional head pains.

Smoke curls from a jar beside me, and the earthy scent of pine floods my senses. We stop at a small table covered with a black silk sheath, lit by the glimmer of a large sapphire candle. Reyna takes a seat and patiently waits for me to do the same.

Swallowing past the pebble lodged in my throat, I realize I have no idea what will happen next, whether it be good or evil, safe or treacherous. But I cannot continue as things are, always wishing for more. Maybe at the end of this journey, blessed peace awaits. And as for fearing Reyna herself…well, the joy on Cat’s face when she stepped inside this very alcove to return home was unmistakable. Cat trusted her gypsy girl. So shall I.

Reyna tilts her head to study me. “You clearly crave adventure, Alessandra. But I have to wonder if you are brave enough to grasp it.”

I wince, both at the raspy edge to her voice and the woefully accurate assessment. She is right; Cat did not inherit her fearlessness from me. Bravery is a virtue I have never quite grasped, though it has not stopped me from wishing it were otherwise.

Perhaps this will change that.

Though I do not know if Reyna is here to send me on an adventure or is simply asking me a question, in this moment, I choose to be brave. Or, at least to pretend to be. Steeling my spine and stiffening my shoulders, I jut my chin forward and confidently proclaim, “Y-yes.”

Or perhaps not.

Frustrated with my telltale stammer, I close my eyes. For all my desire to become a stage actress, that performance was severely lacking. I count to three, will my betraying voice to strengthen, and try again. “I mean to say, yes, I am.” I meet her eyes as brazenly as I can. “I am no longer the timid girl you once knew.” Palms glazed with perspiration clench at my sides and I strain to keep my expression neutral.

After a moment, Reyna’s mouth twitches into a shadowy semblance of a smile.

“Misto,” she says, and though I cannot comprehend the foreign word, I sag in blessed relief.

The table wobbles when she stands, and as I watch Reyna’s bare feet glide to the wall of shelves, the glint of a golden band around her toe catches my eye. Mesmerized, I find myself wondering why anyone would adorn a part of the body hidden from the world.

“I am sure you are wondering why I am here,” she says as my mind wanders, envisioning the scandal I would cause walking slipperless within the public square. “I admit my visit surprised me, too. After Caterina and I returned, I thought my purpose was over. But not twenty-four hours later, the goddess Isis gifted me with another vision.”

At that, my guilty smile withers, and icy fingers of foreboding jerk me to attention.

As Cat would say, her implausible time travel rocked my world. I have always believed in the divine and trusted in forces like fortune, fate, and destino. Since I was a little girl, I have faithfully attended daily morning mass and evening vespers, I rarely travel on Saturdays, and I never leave home without my talisman. Yet when my cousin returned to the twenty-first century, my belief in a benevolent power was shattered.

How could anything that taunted me with ideas and freedoms I could never hope to experience possibly be good?

Unaware of my emotional upheaval, Reyna says, “At first I did not understand it. The second vision differed so much from the first. But after consulting with my puridaia”— she glances over her shoulder—“my grandmother, I was at last able to decipher the prophecy.”

A prophecy.

Strange how such a simple word could send pinpricks of fear over my entire body. Wringing my hands, I watch Reyna dig through her sundry of items and wait for her to continue. When Reyna finally turns, she waves a golden object in triumph. “Ah-ha!” She palms a candle, then lowers her chin. “My vision, Alessandra, was of you.”

The tent spins. Or perchance that is my head. A peculiar squirming wriggles in my belly—from fear or excitement, I do not know. The singular thought my fuzzy brain contains is a repeat of her words: of you, of you, of you.

Reyna strides back to the table with a smirk, the shiny object and a small white candle in hand. She sets them down with a clank and a plop, and then gives me a wink. She lights the wick.

The unexpected, and quite enormous, blaze knocks me backward.

Rebounding in my chair, I watch in rapt horror the glow double, then triple in size. The core of the flame flashes blue, then green, then shocking vivid purple.

“Th-that is not possible,” I whisper.

Reyna does not argue. Instead, she chants. “Tatum, tatum, tatum vel.” Her eyes reduce to slits of liquid mercury. “Sit,” she commands in a low, steely voice. When I do nothing but stare dumbly at the unworldly flame, she says, “You asked for this, Alessandra.”

At the reminder of my claimed bravery, I clamp my molars together and stuff the urge to take back my foolish declaration. For two years, I have cried out for adventure, for change. For release from the turmoil my cousin left in her wake and the knowledge there could be more in life than simply marrying well and being a submissive daughter.

Skittish limbs notwithstanding, I do want this.

“Is Cat content now?” I ask.

If my question surprises her, Reyna does not show it. She nods thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe she is. Caterina’s destiny took her on an adventure that answered many questions. It did not solve them all, for only she can do that. But if you were to see her again and ask, I trust she would say the trip was worth every hiccup she encountered.”

A laugh bubbles from within at the amusement in Reyna’s eyes. The memory of Cat’s many missteps plays before me much like the magical box of movies she brought in her satchel, and I recall her horrendous performance at a society dinner, her continual use of strange vocabulary, and the passionate way she did just about everything

With a brusque nod, I return to my chair. “I am ready.”

“Khushti.” Reyna does not waste a moment. She draws a steady breath and closes her eyes, rolling her head in a slow, controlled circle. Without lifting her lids, she says in a low whisper, “Close your eyes, Alessandra.”

Bunching the fabric of my surcoat in my damp hand, I comply. Instantly, sounds grow sharper. I hear a