“Could be worse.” I offer a half-hearted shrug.
Nico must be thinking about the same unlucky Observer. “Whether things are worse because of your meddling, or not, is a matter of perspective. Depending on who’s telling the story, the Spanish were among the more brutal colonizers. I’m sure the Aztecs would agree. And the ones who endured the inquisition.”
“You’re Spanish,” I say. “Do you really have so little affection for your own people?
“I’m a lot of things,” he says in dry, patient tone. “This time travel gig opens your world up, doesn’t it? Or at least it should. You know the rules: You can’t go back to your own time unless your memory is wiped. I have too many incredible memories to lose. You, for instance.” From the look on his face, that bit of information wasn’t supposed to make it out into the open. His eyes lock on mine as he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. He holds the gaze for a long minute and then, flustered, turns toward the nearest computer control panel. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
A sliver of hope that Nico doesn’t hate me sparks my heart. Still, humility is probably the best approach. “I know.”
He huffs out a big breath and shakes his head. He taps a sequence of commands on the control pad. “I could do without all this bullshit, just so you know.”
“At least we’re still on Earth and the air is breathable. In case, you know, we wanted to—”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He spins around and points a finger at me. “You. Stay. Put.”
“Just hear me out.”
“No. There’s nothing to hear.” He shimmies down ladder, headed toward the transporter pads. I follow close behind. “We’re here because we were minutes away from that maniac boarding the ship and arresting us.”
“Carter said we can fix this mess,” I shout down to him.
“Could’ve been a trick to get in the door.”
“On the off chance he wasn’t, wouldn’t it make sense to get a good look at the environment out there and see what has changed, so we can figure out what we’re dealing with?”
“First, you have a nasty habit of going off-script. The de Medici job is a good example. Pretty much every job is a damn good example.” Nico works through the sequence to activate the transporters. He frowns when the device doesn’t come back online, then pops the composite panel off of the display panel to work. “Second, you don’t listen. I screamed at you to leave Tower Hill and you ignored me. Which meant I had to rescue your ass when Carter nearly snagged you the first time.”
“I didn’t know he was here.”
“I did. Which is what I was trying to tell you while you ignored me.”
“Sorry.”
He glances over his shoulder, and asks softly. “How long did you plan it?”
Merde. He wants to do this now? “It’s...complicated.”
“Did you plan it from the beginning or was it a spur-of-the-moment thing?”
“Like I said. Complicated.”
His shoulders sag and he lets out a ragged breath. “Aside from the obvious cosmic implications, did you stop for a nanosecond to think about Fagin and me?” His voice is soft, wounded.
I move toward him and place a hand in the middle of his back. The warmth of his skin radiates through his shirt—he still wears the linen blouse of his Tudor costume, but the coat, doublet, and hose have been replaced by black sweatpants, wool socks, and athletic shoes.
“I couldn’t think about anything except saving Papa and Maman.” I feel his breathing change; it’s deep, controlled. Like he’s trying to contain an explosion. “I know I fucked up, but I need you to believe me.” I turn him around to face me. The pain in his voice pierces me, but I’m unprepared for the devastation in his eyes. “Someone added the part about Anne being pregnant to that letter. Henry wouldn’t have killed her if it were a matter of being in love with Wyatt. I think it was the thought of her carrying another man’s child that pushed him over the edge.”
His lips purse as he considers my words. “Who has a vested interest in keeping the king and his lady apart? Trevor may be the easy answer, but it has to be bigger than her.”
“Isn’t it obvious? She’s working with Carter. They probably planned this whole thing.”
“It has to be bigger than both of them. Why risk execution or a mindless exile to a prison planet for changing something so big in the timeline?” Nico steps back, shakes his head. “No. A fish stinks from the head and this has upper-echelon Benefactor stench all over it.”
I have no answer, so I change the subject. “Any idea what we do now? Like you said: Can’t go back. Can’t go home.”
“Only way out is through.” he says, echoing my earlier words. He nods his head toward the display panel on the wall. “Go on. I know you’re dying to find out, so why don’t you just ask?”
“Ask... what?” I say, slowly, not quite sure what he’s getting at.
“Run a query about your parents. See if Betty can find anything on them.”
Now that I face finally knowing the answer to the question, I’m not at all sure I want to ask it. What if they’re both still dead? Even worse, what if they never lived at all? What if—
“Go on. The sooner you know, the sooner we can focus on finding a way out of this mess.”
Deep breath. Here we go. “Betty, search historical records for Louis Arseneau, born 1727 in Saint John. Cross reference search: Mariette Longpré Arseneau, born 1730, also in Saint John.”
“Searching,” she replies.
My heart beats like a dozen hummingbirds’ wings in flight; each passing second feels like an hour. I sense Nico’s gaze on me, and glance over my shoulder. He is looking at me. I can’t quite decipher his mood. Is it curiosity in his
