The guys fell silent, probably because they knew what I was referring to, and couldn’t deny that I was right. The demon marks made me and Eva more powerful—gave us the ability to use stronger magic—but they also bound us to the royals. If they ever felt us return to the present, they could control us. Unless, of course, we figured out a way to sever, or at least muffle, that connection.
Really, seeking out a woman who was probably the most horrible witch in history was our best chance.
“Don’t eat anything she gives you,” Diana said, sitting down with us.
Merlin and Morgan were still in the kitchen area, flirting and chatting and watching a cauldron full of love potion bubble over the fire. Morgan wanted to bring it as an offering to La Voisin, or anyone else who might need to be bribed.
“She’s rumored to have poisoned up to 2,500 people,” Diana continued. “I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.”
“Morgan has already rented a flat near the poisoner witch’s home for us to stay in,” I assured her. “She says we’ll get food from the market and eat at the flat. We’ll only be at La Voisin’s for lessons.”
“Which hopefully won’t take long. We need to get home.” Alex let out a heavy breath. “I wonder how long we’ve been gone, anyway?”
I wondered that often too. Timewalking was finicky, particularly if you were a newbie who didn’t have a lot of control yet. A few weeks might have passed here, but when I finally landed us back in our period of origin, it could be years in the future. The thought made my stomach churn.
“Or what’s happened in our time,” Diana piped up, ripping my musings off timewalking. “What’s the world going to be like when we return?”
A silence fell over the table. No one could answer that question.
CHAPTERTEN
The next day, after saying our goodbyes, Eva, Morgan, and I timewalked to Paris, 1665.
And nearly got mowed down by a horse.
“Pardon me!” the rider exclaimed as he reared the animal back, flustered by our sudden appearance. “I was distracted. My sincerest apologies!”
“No problem,” I replied. When my words came out in French, I shot Morgan a grateful look.
Before we’d left the cottage, she’d gifted me and Eva with dresses appropriate for the era, as well as translation talismans. The talismans were gold rings that would allow us to understand and speak any language.
Thank the universe,I thought, rotating the ring on my finger as I watched people walking the streets, all of them speaking rapidly in antiquated French. My high school French would not have stood up well here.
“Where to? The apartment?” I asked Morgan.
Since she’d wanted to arrive at a very specific location and moment, she’d been the one to timewalk us here. I assumed that was because she wanted to swing by the apartment she’d pre-rented to check that everything was fine.
“Follow me,” she replied, and took off down the street.
Eva and I followed.
Even though I’d have liked to consider myself cool, calm, and collected after timewalking a dozen times, I wasn’t. And Eva was, understandably, worse at concealing her awe. Her mouth was hanging open so wide, I was sure a fly would soar in there at any moment. But honestly, who could blame her? There was just too much to see.
Horses were everywhere, which, me being from a city, was both strange to witness and smelly. A mix of people from all walks of life milled around, and although I didn’t know too much about this period, the classes were obvious by their state of dress.
There seemed to be a lot of beggars, and just as many people trying to make a living by selling brooms they carried on their backs, or carting large buckets of water around for reasons I wasn’t sure of. We passed by a woman on the other side of the street who, from her overly exposed bosom, I was sure was a prostitute trying to entice a finely dressed man in a crimson cape.
The working classes seemed to stick to brown, black, and white clothing, with perhaps a pop of color in the form of laces or embroidery. On the other hand, the higher classes stood out in bright reds and blues—like our dresses. The men’s outfits struck me as funny, billowing at the top with tights underneath.
So unflattering.
I was still stuck in observation mode when Morgan stopped before a door, and I nearly bowled her over.
“Do watch where you’re going.” She smiled in amusement.
“Sorry,” I breathed and straightened my crimson skirt. “There’s just . . . a lot happening.”
“Thank goodness we will be here for a few days so you can see some of it.” Morgan fluffed up her voluminous red mane a little. “Now, get ready. Remember, La Voisin thinks that I’m of this era, from the south of France. I’d like her to believe the same about you two—at least until I’ve set up the proper wards.”
