Page 54 of No Place in Time

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He found the machine in the cave exactly where he’d left it. He had to put a hand on the wall to steady himself. It was still here.

He moved closer, careful of his injuries, and ran his hands over the frame, checking for damage. Animals had been inside. He could see scratches on the wood, droppings in the corner, but the machine itself was intact.

With difficulty, Finn pulled it into the fading light and knelt, his fingers tracing the familiar gears. He saw Anton’s file marks on the main lever, remembered the months spent watching, learning the machine’s rhythms as he handed the old man tools.

The timing mechanism was still misaligned. That was the problem that had sent him more than a year forward instead of hours. If he could adjust it, recalibrate the timing wheel—

But he’d need tools for that. Fine tools. The ones the thieves had taken.

Finn sat back on his heels and stared at the machine. He had no tools. No money to buy them. No time to steal them.

Somewhere in Kent, Cecily was preparing for her wedding.

And time was running out.

31

CECILY

1299

Cecily’s hands smelled of thyme and lavender. For two hours, she had worked in the herb garden, the sun warm on her shoulders as bees drifted through the rosemary. Spring had finally come, and with it, a fragile happiness she’d almost forgotten.

“Lady Cecily, your uncle asks that you attend him in the solar.”

Cecily wiped her hands and headed toward the solar, wondering what her uncle needed. Perhaps something about the accounts or the Easter preparations. These days he relied on her to manage the entire household. It made her feel less like a guest and more like she belonged.

She climbed the stairs, knocked once at the solar door, and pushed it open.

There was Julian.

He stood near the window with her uncle. They’d been talking but stopped when she appeared. Her uncle was smiling.

Cecily stiffened.

“Come in, Cecily,” her uncle said warmly. “Close the door.”

Her movements were careful. Julian inclined his head in greeting. He looked quite pleased about something. Whatever it was, she doubted it would please her.

“Sit, my dear,” her uncle said, gesturing to a chair.

Cecily sat. She gripped her hands tightly in her lap.

“Cecily,” her uncle began, his voice full of optimism, “I have wonderful news. Lord Julian has done us a great honor. He has asked for your hand in marriage.”

She heard the words. She understood them. Her mind kept turning them over anyway, as if repetition might change their shape, and all the while her hands sat useless in her lap, belonging to someone else entirely.

Her uncle was still talking. “I know this surprises you, but truly, Cecily, this is an extraordinary match. You are landless, without family beyond myself, and yet the baron of Veyron wishes to make you his wife. You’ll want for nothing.”

Julian stepped forward, his expression kind.

“I hope this news pleases you, Lady Cecily,” Julian said. “I have admired your grace and capability these past months. I believe we would suit one another well.”

She stared at him. At his fine clothes, his handsome face, his easy confidence. He looked nothing like the indolent drunkard she’d seen at Veyron. He’d cleaned himself up. And now, with his generous smile, he genuinely thought this was good news. He believed she should feel honored despite all she’d witnessed of his loathsome behavior.

“I—” Her voice came out thin and strange. She cleared her throat and tried again. “My lord, I… I don’t know what to say.”