“Why’s you lookin’ at me like dat?”

Dye stood completely still in the kitchen doorway, buckets in her hands, eyeing me suspiciously as I watched her. I shook my head slowly and then went back to what I was doing.

I wasn't entirely sure what I expected, but when I finally managed to fall asleep, my dreams had been full of flashes and chaotic images. The only thing I could remember when I woke, however, was that I needed to talk to Dye. She was my ticket out of here and back to where I belonged.

Now that Dye was actually there, I couldn’t think of how to even start explaining what I needed from her. Hell, I didn't entirely know what I needed. She'd always been a little curious about me, and I wasn’t completely certain that she hadn’t somehow figured out my secret. If she knew, then it was safe to assume she might also know how my time jump had occurred and might even know what I could do to reverse it, because if she understood traveling through time...

It made my head hurt.

Yet now, in the kitchen with all the other women, with Dye casting suspicious looks in my direction, I found it hard to approach her. What could I even say? I had no idea where to start, especially if I was wrong and Dye knew nothing.

Maybe the girl was just extremely intuitive, and in reality had no idea what I had been through. It was clear I was out of place, that I didn’t belong here, but it didn’t take a genius to know that. Maybe Dye just had a knack for saying the right things at the right time. In some ways, she reminded me of the gypsy ladies during carnival season back home.

“If you gonna keep lookin’ at me dat way, I best be makin’ maself pretty,” Dye said, as she dried her hands. “You got somethin’ to tell me, Honor?”

I looked over her shoulder at the other women around us, noticing how some had edged their way closer to us and were eavesdropping on our conversation. I wondered how many were listening for anything they could pass along to Roston, and how many were looking for gossip about me and Gracen.

I made a decision. “Not here,” I said. “Outside at the well.” If she didn't know anything, then I'd be back at square one, but at least I'd know I was doing whatever possible to get home.

Dye smiled at me and pushed a bucket in my direction. “Good,” she said. “We got us a few more of dese to fill.”

I watched until we were standing at the well, buckets by our side, before I asked the only question that mattered. “What do you know about time travel?”

“Whatcha mean by time travel?” Dye pulled a blade of grass and chewed on the end of it as she leaned against the well.

“Moving through time.” I chose my words carefully. “Like going to the future...or the past.”

“Now why'd anyone wanna do dat?” she asked, regarding me shrewdly. “Past’s better left alone, and future’s comin’ whether we likes it or not.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I straightened and stretched the muscles in my back. Being active in the army meant I was in shape, but it didn't mean I wasn't feeling it. I struggled to find the words. “What if someone traveled in time without wanting to? Like they were forced into it, and they couldn’t do anything about it.”

She eyed me for a beat before she clicked her tongue and laughed, a rich, full sound. “You speakin’ nonsense, Honor,” she said. “The sun’s getting’ to ya.”

“I’m serious.” I refused to let it go. “What if someone wanted to go home? How would they do that?”

She spat and scratched her scalp, looking off at the extensive grounds of the estate as if looking for the answers around us. In that moment, she looked less like a young servant, and more like some sort of wise woman. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I was certain that she would have answers for me.

“You’s been chased from home, dat it?”

All the air rushed from my lungs, and my shoulders slumped in defeat. For some reason, I'd thought this would all be over soon. That Dye would have answers for me, and I'd just follow them. I'd be home in no time.

“Dat your explanation for actin’ strange all day?”

“I wasn’t chased from anywhere, Dye,” I said, exasperated. I ran my hands through my hair. “I actually like my home, and I want to go back.”

Dye’s head snapped toward me, and she eyed me for what seemed like forever, as if trying to decide whether or not I'd completely lost my mind. Finally, she shook her head.

“You ain’t never made any sense, Honor,” she said. “I know dis all about Master Gracen runnin’ off to dem Redcoats?”

“This has nothing to do with Gracen,” I quickly argued.

“I ain't a fool,” Dye said. “I seen da two of you together. How he always be lookin' at you, even when he pretend he don't be. It’s a miracle Master Lightwood and little Miss Clara ain’t got a clue, or you be in some serious trouble.”

“Nothing is going on,” I said again.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’s sure about dat?”

“Positive.”

“Den must’ve been someone else I heard hollerin' in his room dat night.” She grinned at me.

I froze, my eyes wide as her words sank in, and I could immediately feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Shit. How the hell could I talk my way out of this one? Dye chuckled when she saw the look on my face and waved her hand at me.

“If I could count ‘ow many times white men sleep wid da help, I be countin’ 'til kingdom come.”

I grabbed the pump handle and started working it again so I wouldn’t have to respond. My night with Gracen couldn't have been like that. He wasn't like that. The fact that he'd freaked out so badly was an indication that he wasn't in the habit of sleeping with random women. But if anyone else knew about our night together, they'd assume I was just one in a long line of servants who warmed his bed.

I frowned. I didn't really care what anyone thought of me, but I hated the idea of anyone thinking poorly of Gracen. Then again, maybe sleeping with the staff would be something that Roston would consider manly. He seemed like he'd be that sort of chauvinistic asshole.

“So you be feelin’ guilty and wanna run away,” Dye continued as if her statement explained my question.

I shook my head, even though, deep down, I knew that Dye's words were probably truer than I wanted to admit. I didn't want to think about that though. I couldn't think about Gracen right now. I needed to focus on getting home.

“Is there magic that can send me home?” I asked, hating myself for the desperation in my voice.

“A horse can take you home, girl.” She smiled at me. “Ain’t need no magic for dat.”

I stopped what I was doing and looked up at her. “Dye, I’m serious.”

“I’s as serious as you, Honor,” she countered. “You ain’t need to go meddlin’ in things you know nothin’ ‘bout. Ain’t no magic gonna erase da past, and ain’t no magic gonna bring da future. You best be leavin’ it at dat.”

I sighed, trying to hold back my frustration, knowing I was getting nowhere with this conversation. I needed to try something else. Suddenly, I remembered the volumes of books lining the shelves in the study. Maybe I could find answers there. I just needed to find a way to get my hand on them without being noticed. I was pretty sure Master Lightwood wouldn't think too kindly of any of the help touching things that didn't belong to them.

I stifled the sudden and completely inappropriate laughter that wanted to come out. I'd definitely touched something that didn't belong to me.

“Finish up wid dem buckets,” Dye said, breaking through my thoughts. “I gonna take dese two in wid me.”

I nodded at her and continued pumping. With a new goal in mind, I could at least feel like I hadn't given up.

* * *

The next few days went by uneventfully as I settled back into a routine. Dye and I chatted, but I didn't bring up time travel again. There was clearly no point. I was, however, still looking into other possibilities. Fortunately for me, sneaking books out of the study and to my room proved to be a simple task. The reality was, no one even noticed anything was missing. I simply left cleaning the study to the very end of the day, polished it off and then escaped before Roston Lightwood and the rest of his Loyalist friends filed in. It was easy hiding a volume or two in my dress, and none of the men gave me a second look.

They were all too busy congratulating each other on the imminent downfall of the rebel colonists.

It was exhausting. I spent days working and stealing books, hours of the night occupied with reading. Well, technically skimming. I wasn't a slow reader, but it was a lot of reading. There was very little in regards to time traveling or the mystical, but the work helped keep my mind off Gracen as well as the ever-growing frustration of not being able to find a way back home.

It didn't keep me from thinking about Gracen, wondering how he was faring with the other soldiers. I didn't know anything about how the army worked in this time, especially not the British Army. Gracen had been gone less than a week. I didn't know if he would have had time to train, if he'd be put somewhere out of the way and safe, or if he'd be sent straight to an active unit, one that would be in the very middle of the danger.

I'd tried eavesdropping, but there was very little information on Gracen. The only mention of his name was accompanied by the pride Roston felt at his son's patriotism and loyalty. I was surprised at how well I controlled myself considering the anger I felt whenever I heard Roston bragging.

This wasn't my fight. Even the war itself wasn't my fight. It'd already been won. My priority was getting home to my family...and to my fiancé, of course.

Bruce.

Groan.

I was a little embarrassed to admit that I'd hardly thought about Bruce since I'd arrived here, and I had to keep reminding myself about him even as I looked for a way home. The man I was supposed to marry occupied very little of my thoughts despite the trouble I'd gone through with my family to fight for him. It was strange that it'd taken something as drastic as this to make me reevaluate my choices.

As June drew to an end, I still hadn't made any progress, and it was wearing on my nerves. The fact that I'd also heard nothing about Gracen only made matters worse. By the time the sun set on the last night in June, I was barely holding it together. I had no idea what I was doing, was no closer to answers, and was starting to think that the smartest thing I could do would be to head west, get as far away from the coming battles as I could. I knew enough about roughing it to survive, maybe even do well, in this time.

As I plopped down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, I wondered if it was time to just accept that unless whatever had brought me here decided to send me home, I was stuck.

Either way, I couldn't stay here any longer. I needed to do something other than wait on the Lightwoods. So, when I was sure the entire household was asleep, I quickly gathered my things and shoved them into the pillowcase. It took less than a few minutes for me to change back into my uniform and head downstairs. This time, I knew I wouldn't turn back.

Gracen wasn't here to stop me.

I walked swiftly, leaving the Lightwood estate behind me. I’d give it one final try before I accepted that I was here to stay, and I knew that meant I had to go back to where it all began. As I made my way back toward Boston, I wasn't sure what to hope for. A way home, or a clear sign to stay.