“Never mind that! I didn’t ask you to my laboratory to discuss the management of slaves. I need you to help me with the queen. She must be dissuaded. You understand the gravity of what I ask, Nostradamus?” Cosimo was saying. “The queen must believe your prophecy comes from divine inspiration, not your own machinations.”
Nostradamus frowned, stroking his beard. “I do not falsify visions, alchemist. What I see, I speak.”
“Well, tonight you will see whatIshow you,” Cosimo replied coldly, moving to his desk. He paused, his hand hovering over the surface, sensing something amiss. “Someone has been in here.”
His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room. Zani clutched the notebook to her chest, pressing herself against Will in the shadows.
Cosimo’s gaze swept past their hiding place. For a terrible moment, Zani was certain he’d spotted them. But then his attention was drawn to the hidden compartment in his desk, still partially open.
“Thieves!” he hissed, spinning toward the door.
Nostradamus raised a hand. “Wait. I sense... something unusual.” The prophet closed his eyes, his face contorting as if in pain. “Time bends unusually in this room. There are those who do not belong.”
Cosimo’s hand moved to the dagger at his belt. “Show yourselves!”
Will’s arm tightened around Zani’s waist. They were trapped. Zani’s mind raced, taking inventory of the items in her bag and calculating the odds if they made a break for it. The odds were not in their favor.
Before she could decide, Nostradamus stumbled forward, his eyes rolling back to show only whites. His voice, when it came, was deep and resonant, filling the chamber.
“The twin flames across time divide, one stone, two paths, the darkest tide. What was corrupted cannot be pure unless the porter and vagabond endure. The mermaid’s return opens the door, but only love closes what ambition tore.”
The prophet collapsed into a nearby chair, exhausted. Cosimo stood frozen, his attention completely fixed on Nostradamus.
“What does it mean?” Cosimo demanded. “Why can’t you speak plainly, you old fool!”
But Nostradamus merely shook his head, his energy spent. “I cannot interpret what the universe does not wish to interpret, alchemist. My vision was not for you.”
“Then for whom?” Cosimo roared.
Nostradamus’s eyes drifted toward the cabinet where Will and Zani hid. “For those who walk between times. They are here, among us now.”
Cosimo whirled, dagger raised, but at that moment, a commotion erupted in the corridor—shouts and the heavy footfall of guards.
“Your queen calls for you, Master Cosimo,” a voice announced. “The Spanish diplomats have arrived early. Her Majesty requires your presence immediately.”
Cosimo hesitated, clearly torn between investigating the intruders and answering Catherine’s summons. Court politics won out.
“Watch him,” he commanded the guard, gesturing to Nostradamus. “Stay posted outside this door and let no one enter until I return!” With a last suspicious glance around the room, he strode out.
The moment the door closed, Nostradamus spoke quietly. “You have perhaps two minutes before he realizes I have misdirected him. The queen expects no diplomats today.”
Will and Zani emerged cautiously from their hiding place, staring at the prophet in shock.
“You know who we are?” Zani asked.
The old man smiled wryly. “I know you do not belong to this time.” He nodded at Zani and Will. His eyes lingered on the notebook she had clutched to her chest. “If you have what you came for, I suggest you leave at once. The mage’s ambitions make him a dangerous foe.”
“Why are you helping us?” Will asked.
“Because my visions show I must. I see two paths, one where the map heals, and one where it shatters forever.” Nostradamus’s eyes fixed on the door.
A sudden shout from the corridor cut the conversation short. “Search the sorcerer’s chambers!”
“Go!” Nostradamus urged. “You’ve run out of time here.”
Will grabbed Zani’s hand, pulling her toward a small, leaded-glass window. He summoned the port with his other hand. Zani felt the Pair Tag against her collarbone. It was hot, too hot. It singed her skin.
“Something’s wrong,” Zani gasped, holding onto Will’s shoulders and attempting to wrap her legs around him. It was almost as if he was too far away, bundled in blankets. His form didn’t feel quite right.
