Page 118 of A Time of Witches

“I know his name,” Jacinda said.

“The book.” Now Sybil understood. “The priest hole—how did you…?”

“There was a woman who helped me.” Jacinda bit her lip, the way she did when she knew she’d done something she ought not. “A woman not from our time.”

The birthmark.

“I presume this woman has a similar mark on her?” Sybil pulled up the sleeve of her shift. “Jacinda, what did you do?”

“I was trying to save you.” Tears filled her large hazel eyes. “I told you I’d find a way to help.”

“But at what price?” Sybil demanded in a whisper. “You will lose your connection to the earth. And the woman… She could not have known she would be implicated. Every descendant until her will suffer. My child, there are repercussions.”

“I knew that before I performed the enchantment.” Jacinda nodded solemnly. “The cost is one I do not take lightly. I would do anything to save you.”

The conviction of her words plunged into Sybil’s heart. Jacinda was young, impetuous, she hadn’t had enough experience in the world to realize how heavy such wrongs could be. And she’d done it out of love.

The door opened. “Enough.”

Pain splintered open in Sybil’s chest, deep and raw. Their time was over far too quickly. Not only these scant precious moments, but their life together. Once seeming to stretch on for eternity and now ephemeral.

As if afflicted by the same visceral thought, Jacinda threw her arms around Sybil.

“I love you,” Sybil said around the knot in her throat. “I have only ever wanted the best for you, my daughter.”

The sound of Jacinda’s weeping muffled against Sybil’s shoulder, her skin beneath the shift wet with the girl’s tears.

They held each other thus, a moment to love before being forever separated by death.

“I’ll save you,” Jacinda whispered under her breath.

“Don’t.” Sybil said in a tone that brooked no argument.

She would do anything to keep her daughter safe, and that included dying.

The door opened. Jacinda pulled from Sybil’s embrace and turned away, looking over her shoulder as she did so. Likewise, Sybil watched her, memorizing her daughter’s face, the way a dimple appeared in her right cheek, the stubborn set to her jaw.

Even without the earth’s gifts, that girl would be a force to contend with someday.

These thoughts of maternal pride squeezed at a wounded place in Sybil’s heart. Mayhap that was why she did not see the figure who entered until Jacinda was gone and the door closed.

But there he stood.

Black robes, a fierce expression.

Her heart stuttered to a stop.

The lock clicked in the door.

And Sybil was alone once more with the magistrate.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Sybil

Sybil could not mute her horror as the magistrate strode toward her in the small room.

There was no penknife in her pocket for protection. No servants to give him pause. No elevated status to lend her power.