“How dangerous?” He didn’t want to risk Maria’s life. He’d put her through so much already.
She shrugged. “Like I said, she’s not ready.”
Not helpful. The opposite of helpful. What did he do? Who did he choose? He loved Maria, didn’t he? He wanted to save her, make things right. But a lifetime of memories assailed him. Laughter, tears, running through the forest, sharing secrets and dreams and struggles, more laughter, more tears.
“Do it fast,” he said. “As fast as you can get the information you need.” It had to be Ariana. It would always be Ariana.
Maria looked at him for what felt like an eternity before she smiled. The true smile, not the wolfish leer. An instant later she collapsed to the floor in a heap. With a cry, he grabbed her under her arms to keep her from hitting her head on the way down. Her body was cold, her skin as unyielding as if she were made of wood. He recoiled in disgust but gathered his courage.
“Maria,” he pleaded.
He shook her shoulders and patted her stiff cheeks. He’d really killed her, once and for all. All he could think was now he’d never find Ariana. The guilt and shame of it made him unable to breathe.
Maria opened her eyes. “She’s okay,” she said.
He gasped for air and leaned back on his heels. “Ariana’s okay?” he asked, shaking with relief.
“No, Maria’s okay. Ariana’s in terrible danger.”
***
Ariana woke up to a screaming headache in a room she didn’t recognize. After a failed attempt to heal her throbbing head with a spell, she scrambled off the narrow bed she lay on and rushed to the door. Locked. At the window she breathed a small sigh of relief.
She was at her mansion, looking out at the back of the place. Except it wasn’t finished. There was no thriving vegetable garden, no decorative wall, no fruit trees anywhere to be seen. It looked exactly as when she first found it.
That meant she was in her own time or very close to it. But why was she here? Had everything she’d done been a dream and she was just now starting out? No, that wasn’t right. She rubbed her temples and sat down.
Milo had found her at the inn. An emergency with Gloria. He said he had a new spell he wanted to try. That was all she could remember. She also remembered she was locked in this small, sparse room and angrily pounded on the door. No sooner than her fist hit it once, it swung open to reveal Milo with a pitcher and cup on a tray, towels beside it.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re all right,” he said. There was no table so he set the tray on the edge of the bed. “I was worried you’d never come round after that confounded spell knocked you out. You were completely unconscious. I was afraid to do the time travel spell in your condition.”
His words came out in a jittery rush. That wasn’t like him to be so tense, but she knew he was worried. Still, she thought of how frightened Cousin Dexter had been for her and nodded toward the door. Better safe than sorry.
“Why did you lock me in?”
“Was it locked? My goodness, that silly wench. The serving girl must have done it for your safety. You were- were babbling and trying to wander around. She must have been afraid you’d fall down the stairs.”
“I thought I was completely unconscious.” Her senses were on high alert now. She looked over Milo’s shoulder as if Nick might be looming in the doorway.
His shiny head turned red. “Yes, you were. Until we got here. Then you came round some, but were very ill.” He peered at her, his eyes full of anxiety. But was it for her? “I’m still not sure we should do the travel spell yet.”
“What year is it?” she asked, trying to get her bearings. She did feel awful and had no recollection of what went on after being in her room at the inn.
“It’s 1832. Right after you bought the house. As soon as you’re steady, we can go forward.”
Ariana didn’t think she needed to be afraid of Milo, unless perhaps he was being threatened by Nick. If Nick had convinced some of the other witches to help him kill her, perhaps they were holding Gloria somewhere. If only her head didn’t hurt so badly. And if Dexter hadn’t filled her mind with nonsense, she wouldn’t be so suspicious right now.
“Why did you come find me?” she asked, hoping if she heard the story again, she’d be more at ease.
He flapped his arms and wiped his now sweaty head, though it wasn’t hot at all in the room. “Everything’s sideways, Your Majesty. There’s such an upheaval. I know you probably only meant to be gone a day or two when you ran off, but you were gone months and months. People started to take sides, turn against Nick and me, demanding to see you. But we couldn’t scry you at all. It was as if you were gone.”
That was a lie. Another lie. “Gloria’s not deathly ill?” she asked. “And is Nick in Italy or not?”
That was important. She had to know where Nick was. Her heart ached that she was so suspicious of him but Milo was acting all wrong.
He huffed impatiently, as if she were being annoying. “He was in Italy. He’s in the future now. Our time. He’s in danger if we don’t get you back soon. And poor, dear Gloria. She is very ill. Sick with worry about how divided everyone’s become. I told you all this at the inn last night.”
She eased around him toward the door. He must have tried to put one of his memory spells on her, but she had been working with Gloria on different wards against them in their spare time. Gloria was adamantly opposed to them for some reason even though they were
