“But—”
“No, Hope.” Her eyes roved from person to person. “You don’t understand. You mustn’t let Celia find you here. If she does—”
“Celia can’t return to this time,” I said, though fear prickled my scalp as she shook her head. “She can’t,” I insisted. “She was here before, and Lucinda said the Dim won’t allow anyone to return.”
She flinched at my casual mention of the Dim.
“My sister is wrong.” Her hands nearly crushed mine when she grabbed them to jerk me close. Her blue eyes swam with fear as she whispered, “The Timeslippers have found a way to keep this timeline open. I don’t know how. But I’ve seen them here at least three times over the past months, and I know they were here before I came. I don’t know what they’re up to, but Celia’s made some powerful friends here. She trapped me. She arranged my marriage to that”—she covered her belly with her hands as she growled the word—“monster.”
I was breathing hard now, fear making my lungs shrivel like crumpled paper sacks.
“Celia’s little minions watch me all the time, Hope. Which is why you must get away from me. They may already know you’re here.”
Chapter 27
THE NEARBY BLARE OF TRUMPETS STARTLED US BOTH. During our talk, I’d barely noticed the series of dignitaries parading toward the dais, presenting gifts to the new sovereigns. Now I followed Mom’s gaze as a group of bearded men in yellow hats stood before their king. Henry beamed down as one held up a sheath of shining black leather etched with gold and glittering with precious gems.
“The Jews of London are grateful to our new, and most gracious, king,” their leader intoned. “In honor of your coronation and in most humble gratitude for the protection you offer our people, we present you with this dagger.”
There was a collective “ahh” from the crowd as the man yanked the knife from its sheath. It gleamed beneath the candlelight, silver and shining and lethal. “May your reign last as long as this legendary stone fixed into its hilt.”
The Jewish contingent bowed low as their leader laid the dagger carefully on a marble pillar set before the dais to showcase each gift as it was presented. “God save His Grace,” he said as he went to his knees. The crowd joined in. “God save the king!”
The legendary stone fixed into its hilt.
So, this must be the opal Rachel had mentioned. I couldn’t see it from where I was standing, but when I turned back to my mother, I saw her cover her mouth with trembling fingers.
“The Nonius Stone?” she mumbled behind her hand. “That’s why the timeline stays . . . but no. It couldn’t be, could it?”
When the Jews marched from the room, the feastgoers went back to their meals. Lutes and pipes played as people filled the space between the tables, dancing and chatting. Others began stuffing their faces with meat and downing endless goblets of wine.
“Mom,” I said, “listen. I don’t care about some ridiculous stone, and I don’t care about Celia. We’re here to rescue you. But we have to—”
“You idiotic lout!” The shout echoed from the dais.
I whirled in time to see that a servant had just stumbled hard into the pillar. Rocking on its base, the thick marble stand teetered, then crashed over. Shards of stone flew into the crowd. The servant’s heavy tray of goblets followed, crimson wine splashing across the rush-covered floor like an arterial spray. The king rose, apoplectic. Angry voices boomed off the rafters as the servant bowed over and over in apology. He leaned down to retrieve the goblets, then began to scurry toward a side entrance.
“Thief!” someone yelled, and I saw that it was Becket. His eyes blazed after the servant. “He’s taken the dagger, Your Grace!”
Becket whispered furiously in the king’s ear. Henry’s hand came up and pointed a beringed finger at the servant, who was now blocked in by two guards. “Seize. That. Man.”
The servant zigzagged through the crowd as men tried to snatch hold of his scarlet servant’s tunic. I couldn’t see much, only the top of his head, and the ripple effect as he shoved through the mass of people.
An awful dread began to build inside me.
The crowd became too thick. The thief leaped up onto the far table, rampaging down its length. Goblets of wine and plates of food flew into the laps of startled guests.
“Oh God,” I whispered when I finally viewed the man’s face. My pulse doubled and my heart began to cave in on itself.
Next to me, Mom made a strangled noise. “Oh, Collum, no.”
Collum MacPherson never slowed as he neared the edge of the tabletop. His muscular thighs bunched as he jumped. He flew through the air, snatching hold of one of the hanging swags of evergreen.