Page 73 of No Place in Time

Lady Veyron must look the part. Even when she felt like she was disappearing.

∞∞∞

Julian sat at the high table with Benedict beside him. They were always together. This morning, they were deep in conversation and didn’t look up when she entered. She took her place, and a servant brought food: bread, a slice of cold fowl, and a cup of spiced wine.

She forced herself to eat, though everything was tasteless, as if made of sand.

Julian glanced at her finally. “You slept late.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The steward has been waiting for his instructions since dawn.”

“I’ll see to it.”

He returned to his conversation with Benedict.

She was dismissed.

Cecily took another bite. Her eyes drifted around the hall. There were new tapestries on the walls, rich imported work, the kind that cost money. She didn’t remember those from last month. Julian’s tunic was finer too, with new gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs. Benedict wore a gold chain she hadn’t seen before.

Where was the money coming from?

Julian had been drowning in debt when they married. Her dowry was supposed to help, but it was modest. This was something more. Something recent. They had found a way to bring money into the estate, but she didn’t understand how. Julian wasn’t smart enough to manage the estate’s money competently, she admitted to herself. But Benedict…

She wanted to ask but didn’t.

“You look unwell.” Julian’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“I’ve been a little tired. Nothing serious.”

“You should rest more.” He paused, choosing his words. “You need to be strong.”

They’d been over this before. He wanted an heir. But the weaker she became, the more he avoided her, and she’d been weakening ever since they were wed. Still, she felt the pressure from him, as if she was failing at the simplest of tasks.

She nodded and looked down at her plate.

She became aware of Benedict watching her and looked up. His expression was shrewd, cold, and patient. The way a man watches a candle burn down. He was waiting for something. She did not know what. She looked away quickly.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to speak with the steward.”

Julian waved a hand. She stood, then gripped the table edge as dizziness hit her again. She didn’t want them to see her unsteadiness, though she knew they were watching. She steadied herself, then left the hall.

The corridors were long and cold despite the spring warmth outside. Servants bowed and curtsied as she passed. Lady Veyron. The title felt like a prison.

The bitter irony of it wasn’t lost on her. She’d fled across time to avoid this exact fate. She’d run from Lord Alard Veyron in 1239, used a machine she barely understood, risked everything to escape marriage to a Veyron baron.

And here she was. Married to Julian de Veyron. Baron of these lands. Descendant of the very man she’d escaped.

The cruelty of it made her want to scream. And then, beneath the cruelty, beneath everything, the same thought that returned to her every day:

Finn. His face flooded her mind.

What happened to him?

∞∞∞

The solar was her private space, the one room that felt like hers. Her embroidery frame sat by the window, her books were stacked on the shelf, and a cushioned seat rested where she could look out over the gardens. A large oak spread its branches not far from the window. She sank into the chair and stared at the view.