A Tale of Two Centuries

Pushing through the open flaps, I enter the tent. They close behind me, sealing me into darkness.

I shall not be afraid. I shall not be afraid.

I kick off my shoes and fling them where I think the side is, calling out, “Reyna, I’m here.”

“I can see that.” The bored-sounding reply comes just behind me, and my heart leaps into my throat.

Twisting around, I find a shadowy outline. Reyna must have been waiting for me by the entrance, watching my approach.

Grateful for the dark that hides the embarrassed flush of blood rushing to my cheeks— wondering if Reyna saw any hesitation in my eyes that could hurt my chances of staying—I square my shoulders. “I have come at the hour we agreed upon to tell you that my desire has not changed. I wish to stay.”

She stares back at me with eyes that seem to defy the dark, that need no candle to illuminate them. She does not say a word as she studies my face, and the weight of her intent appraisal feels heavy on my skin. I fight the sudden urge to sink farther into the shadows or smile too broadly to overcompensate for my unease.

I stand strong. And finally, she nods.

Careful not to read too much into the all-too-common action (she could have been silently agreeing that I deserve to return to my own time, or even deciding what to have for dinner once I do), I allow my shoulders to relax an inch.

“Come.”

With her edict, Reyna walks toward the back of the tent, candles along the ground flaring to life and leaving a glowing trail in her wake. The earthy, familiar scent of pine brings me back to the last time I was here. Back when I was so scared of the unknown. And now I am here again, asking for more of the same.

As she sits behind the small table lit by the sapphire candle, I smile at how much I truly have changed into the girl I once claimed to be.

And that’s why I must remain.

If I return to my life in the sixteenth century, it will be easy to fall into old habits, following others’ expectations of me and living the life Lucas told me about in the history books. My efforts will be consumed with hosting government balls and spending as much time as I can comforting my father before he dies.

That life, while sad, would not be a horrible one, which is the reason I hesitated in the library. My marriage to Domenico might not be based on love, but he would provide me with a good life. A decent life. One that, until I met Cat and Austin, was all that I could have asked for.

But instead, I choose the adventure. The unknown. The future.

“You believe your time here has changed you,” Reyna says as if reading my mind.

The rasp of her voice makes it difficult for me to read the intention behind her statement, and I cannot tell if she is disagreeing with my assessment or merely sharing a fact. Do I answer?

Then she continues before I can. “You wish to alter the fabric of time because of this transformation, but I already told you a decision like that is out of my power. What do you think has changed in the last two days to make that fact any different?”

Perhaps your suspicious use of the word “my” the last time you said that…

The more I have pondered it, the more I know there is something Reyna is not saying, something that she is hiding. And something she wants me to figure out on my own. But for now I just say, “I have learned the details about the history—my history—that you say my decision will affect.”

I may not know who holds the power to alter history, but I do at least know that my decision will not start a war or wipe out an entire lineage.

Inhaling a pine-scented breath, stealing a moment to center my thoughts and galloping pulse, I look at the open seat opposite her. It is tempting to sink into the support of the wood, to relax the rigidity of my spine. But as I prepare to fight the most important fight of my life, I need to feel the solid ground beneath my feet, rooting me as I say, “I know about my marriage.”

I pause, and Reyna waves a hand for me to continue, the gold bracelets on her arms clinking gently as she does. The candlelight catches the gold, making them shimmer.

Staring at the soft shine of her jewelry, I say, “And I know that I remain childless”—I swallow past the pain those words cause—“at least in the sixteenth-century. Which means my lineage ends with me. My choice to remain here will not affect medical advancements or cause a political upheaval. I know that my father…” Here is where my voice finally breaks, but I cannot give in to the sadness now. I must plow through while I still can. “I-I know of his illness. I even know of my own death.”

My legs are shaking so badly now that I surrender to temptation and drop into the empty chair. But even so, I raise my head and meet Reyna’s gaze squarely.

“The truth is that even if I were to return to my own time, things could still change. I am a different person now, I might make different choices. I’m no longer content living my life timidly and being an observer. I want to be an active participant. The life I lived in the historical texts was a fine one, but I want more.”

A wonderful surge of energy rushes through my veins the more I speak, but I truly have no idea where my speech is coming from. Words are pouring out of my mouth without my giving them permission to do so, and I’m uttering beliefs that I have not even fully formed until they are spoken.

But as my thoughts take shape, my confidence builds.

Leaning my elbows onto the table, I say, “Reyna, my sixteenth-century life was spent putting other people’s desires before my own. You know that—you were there. But this experience taught me that while doing so on occasion may be noble, I made myself into a martyr. Now it is time for me, for me to follow my own heart and passions.” Hoping she can see the depths of sincerity shining in my eyes, hear the conviction ringing in my voice, I say, “I’m stronger here. And it is in this century that I belong.”

The silence after I finish speaking is heavy. It taunts me with its shadowy edges, causing me to wish my words back from the air and start again.

Maybe I went too far.

Has anyone ever stood up to Reyna before?

To fate?

Asked the stars to realign themselves just for their own purposes and then arrogantly expect them to listen?

I begin losing feeling in my limbs from abject terror of the divine…but then I see it. Under my wide-eyed scrutiny, Reyna’s close-lipped mouth twitches.

That miraculous ghost of a smile holds for a moment, and then an actual burst of laughter explodes from her mouth.

Were it not laced with her rough undertones, I would not trust my own eyes and ears.

“Well done, Alessandra,” she says, clapping her hands twice. “You have grown.”

It feels as though the world has tipped, and I don’t know how to react to this new side of Cat’s gypsy girl. I decide to go with gratitude. “Thank you. I, uh, I’m glad you think so.”

She chuckles softly and strikes a match. The smaller white candle beside the sapphire one flares to life. A shadow dances across her face. “You have more than fulfilled my expectations and your destiny,” she tells me, indeed sounding pleased. “But I must ask one more question.”

And I slump. Foolishly, I had thought that the hard part was over, but the sudden graveness of her request causes a hummingbird to knock against my rib cage. Drawing on every drop of courage left in reserve, I say with only a slight waver, “All right.”

Reyna’s eyes flash over the flickering flames. “Is your desire to stay based upon your affection for a certain young man?”

Here is the real test. Intuitively I know that my answer here matters more than anything else I have said. And while everything in me wants to rush to answer in the negative, I sit back and truly ponder her question.

It is a fair one, and truthfully, one I should have expected. For the last two nights, I’ve stayed awake at night thinking about the second half of the vision I received during Reyna’s initial spell—the faceless boy with dark hair who held me in his arms. I thought about how my spirit seemed to respond to Austin even when he was still