Chapter 3
Okay, the woods were miles bigger than they were in Jordan’s time. He sat down just inside the treeline and shook his head. They’d been so meticulous about everything else. And then to say “get to the forest” when the forest seemed like it took up half the countryside, seemed woefully imprecise. He wished he’d run to the river first. He was parched after tearing over the hills, never letting up until he was safely hidden within the trees. He was grateful he hadn’t been mowed down from behind by any number of hurled weapons, but he was still thirsty.
He lay back and stared at the tree branches looming over him and tried to put out a signal. After ten or fifteen minutes, he sat up and yelled, “Lyra! I’m here.”
She was a witch. Or so she had said in his own time. She might have been an unstable person who needed better supervision. But she knew things without him telling her, and not things that she could have discerned by his body language. After he’d walked into her creepy little palm reading shop, she’d gone into a trance.
“You’re looking for someone,” Lyra had said. “She’s gone to another time. She’s not alone there but, still, you want to follow her.”
He’d nearly been bowled over by the accuracy of her announcement but was still skeptical. He sat down and waited until the glazed look in her eyes cleared away. He expected her to act like she couldn’t remember him or anything she’d said but she’d shrugged and rubbed her fingers together for payment. After he gave her the twenty pounds, she leaned back in her chair and looked at him, through him, for a very long time.
“Why do you want to go after her when I already told you she’s not alone?” she’d asked.
“Who?” he’d asked, testing her.
“Your sister, Sophie.”
He was a believer at that point. “Is she safe? Healthy? Happy? Can she get back?”
Lyra had closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. “I can’t answer any of those questions except that, no, she can’t get back.”
“Do you know how she got there? The other time?”
At that, Lyra doubled over, almost falling off her chair. He tried to help her but she waved him away. She’d done some fairly insane seeming things then, muttering to herself, making spitting noises like an angry cat. He’d been borderline afraid and was about to leave, when she sat back up as if she hadn’t just had a showdown with some invisible foe.
“I do know how she got there,” she’d said.
“Then can you help me? Will you help me?”
Again with the glazed look. “Yes,” she’d said at last. “I’ll help.”
That was his first encounter with her and the others had been just as weird if not weirder. She’d dragged him to a completely empty field where she’d promptly passed out. He couldn’t wake her for more than an hour. Supposedly, she’d gone back to 1398 via an out of body experience, but she refused to share what, if anything, she’d found out. The same thing happened at a broken down ruin on the other side of the woods from the castle but, that time, she came back very excited.
“She’s there. It’s certain. You need to hurry. I think it’s almost time. Remember everything I’ve told you, and meet me when you get there. In the forest.”
And that very day, when he’d returned to the castle, Randolph showed him the dress that had appeared out of nowhere. The rest was history. He snickered at his poor humor.
He looked around nervously, not sure what kind of wildlife there was in this time. The sun was fast fading and he didn’t want to spend the night here. If he didn’t get eaten by something, he’d likely freeze to death. After another few minutes of trying to contact Lyra with his mind, he gave up and started gathering twigs for a fire and larger branches to make some sort of shelter. It was pretty clear to him that Lyra had either been straight up lying to him or had been overly confident in her abilities to make it to this time. He’d asked her and asked her how she would do it. He was supposed to get sucked back by the cursed dress, he got that just fine. But how was Lyra going to do it? He never got an answer, most likely because there wasn’t one.
“I’m on my own, then,” he said, eyeballing the distance to the beginning of the forest. Surely, he was far enough in to safely light a fire and not be seen from the castle? The darker it got, the colder it got, and the less he cared. Maybe getting caught would be the best idea.
“It wouldn’t be a good idea at all,” a melodic voice said from behind him.
He turned to find himself face to face with the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He quickly corrected his thoughts. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. She was probably a few years younger than him and had luminous, rosy skin. The fact that he could think those words to describe her told him just how beautiful she was. She had a veil on, but he could see the ends of a silky, golden blonde braid poking out. The inappropriate vision of taking out that braid and running his fingers through the strands popped into his head.
This couldn’t be Lyra. Not the Lyra he knew, anyway. She had been in her early fifties but looked like she’d lived every day twice, with a rasping, smoker’s voice and hair that looked like it had never seen a brush. Nothing like the glorious, shining hair that fell down this woman’s back.
“Who are you?” he asked. And then he realized what she’d said and wondered if she’d read his thoughts. “What wouldn’t be a good idea?”
“Getting caught and brought to the castle. Look at yourself.”
She had read his thoughts! So, it had to be Lyra, right? He smoothed his hands over his sweatpants. “Lyra? Is that you?” God, she was pretty. Her skin fairly glowed in the fading daylight. You can’t be attracted to Lyra, he told himself. That would be too weird.
“Do you have the gown?” she asked, holding out her hand. “I’m asking, but I know you do. I’ll take it from you now.”
He dug the rumpled dress out of his backpack. “Sorry, it’s all wrinkled and I’m pretty sure I split most of the seams.” Ridiculously, he hoped she’d look at his body and notice and admire how much he worked out. She didn’t look at him at all, only at the dress.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to go. He noticed for the first time she had a horse tethered several yards away. He wasn’t going to survive out here if he hadn’t heard a horse trotting through the forest.
“Wait,” he said desperately, reaching out for her but drawing back before he touched her. Something about her said definitely do not touch. “If you’re not Lyra, can you help me anyway? I don’t have any place to go.” He stared hard at her as she gazed blankly past him. It had to be her. How else would she know about the dress and be able to read his thoughts? She was plenty odd to begin with. Maybe, whatever means she’d used to time travel had made her so spacy. “Look,” he said firmly. “I think I know you’re her.” That made no sense. Still, he pressed on. “You—she—promised to meet me here and help me.”
She pursed her lips together and her eyes went from zoned out to stormy and dark. “Come with me,” she said disgustedly.
He followed her to her horse and got on behind her. Thankfully, he wasn’t a complete city slicker. He’d ridden a horse exactly once, but at least he knew how to mount and dismount. As creeped out as he was by her, he still wanted to impress her. He thought it was possible he’d had some ill-effects from the time travel as well.
The horse picked its way through the darkening woods and Jordan tried to put his trust in the woman who sat so tall and still in front of him. He himself was having a heck of a time keeping from sliding off the saddle and he gripped the sides of it, the blanket under it, and even leaned back and placed his palms on the horse’s rump to try and keep from falling. Anything but grasp her waist. It would have been the easiest, safest way to stay on the horse, but he couldn’t make himself do it. As attracted to her as he was, and he was still inwardly arguing with himself about that, he just couldn’t. He wasn’t exactly sure something bad would happen, but he wasn’t exactly sure it wouldn’t, either.
They finally ambled into a clearing and he saw a big house at the end of a tree and bramble-lined path. It looked vaguely familiar …
“I know this place,” he said, grateful that they turned up the path. That meant he could get off that horse soon. “It’s the ruins you took me to.”
She didn’t respond and he could somehow sense her rolling her eyes at him. At the front of the house, she reined in the horse and neatly dismounted. He felt he did a respectable job of getting down, only to turn and find she wasn’t looking at him at all. She gazed up at the roof, or maybe at the dormer windows there. He couldn’t see anyone looking down at them and before he could ask her what they were doing there, the front door flew open and an old man hurried out.
“What is it at this hour?” he groused at them. The sun had barely set. There was still a faint glow around the tops of the trees, but Jordan figured that was late to an old, medieval man. “The master of the house is away and my mistress is ill and won’t come to the door. If you’re selling something, you’ll need to come back during the day.”
Lyra stepped out and curtsied to the old man. “Mr. Crowley, do forgive us for the late call.”
Mr. Crowley stepped out the door and down the steps to have a closer look. “Oh, is it one of the girls from the castle, then? Forgive me if I can’t keep you all straight. But what is it? Is something wrong with Leo?”
“Sir Leo is well,” Lyra said in a dreamy, singsong voice. “But this man needs shelter. We’re completely full.”
Mr. Crowley narrowed his eyes at that whopper. Jordan had just arrived in that time but knew it was a lie. A small city could visit and that castle still wouldn’t be full.
“I can pay you,” Jordan piped up.
Lyra snaked her head around and glared at him, making him clamp his lips together. She moved closer to Mr. Crowley. “Your hospitality would be much appreciated. He won’t be a bother.”
The old man blinked and swayed on his feet, but then shrugged. “Sure, if it’s a favor to Sir Walter, of course we can make room. Lady Alise won’t mind at all if it’s a favor to the castle.”
“Good,” Lyra said harshly, turning away. She waved Jordan over to the horse and untied his backpack from the saddle. “This is all I can do for you,” she said hurriedly. “I don’t know when I can come back.”
She glanced over his shoulder at the old man. Jordan turned to see him bobbing his head and rolling his thumbs together. He looked like one of the non-playable characters in video games when you weren’t interacting with them. They just did the same repetitive motions until you walked up to them and asked them for a quest. He already had his quest. Save his sister. Get home.
All at once, Jordan was exhausted. He felt both starving and sick to his stomach. He’d been glad Lyra showed up, grateful she had taken him here, but now he wanted her gone. Her beauty was mesmerizing but there was something off about her. Something cold. He tore his gaze away from old Mr. Crowley bobbing and twiddling at the door to say goodbye to her. But she was already gone.