Ten
ALBIE
We’d been walking for half an hour when the terrain shifted. Trees gave way to a small valley running through a rocky gorge. Gray-striped cliffs rose on either side, their faces dotted with patches of grass and scraggly shrubs that clung to the stone.
Behind my spectacles, my cursed eye throbbed like someone had shoved a spike into my skull and kept nudging it deeper. I breathed through my nose, willing the agony to fade.
It would eventually. It always did, but not before I puked my guts out while Tavish fretted.
We didn’t have the luxury of doing either of those things now. And Tavish had enough to worry about.
The sky darkened, thick clouds blotting out the struggling sun. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Tavish cursed, his eyes on the horizon. “We need shelter. The only thing worse than being in England is beingwetin England.”
I surveyed the rocks, mentally sorting through fragments of text I’d stumbled across during my research. “These cliffs are limestone…” I turned in a slow circle as the wind picked up,tugging at my hair and kilt. “I think I’ve read about this place. There should be caves in this area?—”
“There,” Tavish said, already moving forward.
I squinted through the ache behind my eye. A dark opening gaped in the hillside, overgrown brush obscuring what could only be a cave’s entrance. Tavish had spent his youth in an era where dragons waged war and stole females. He was skilled at finding places to hide from irate family members and pitchfork-wielding villagers.
Thunder rumbled again, closer this time.
We hurried toward the cave, Portia’s skirts whispering over the ground. By the time we ducked inside, the first drops of rain began to fall.
The cave was spacious inside, the ceiling high enough that even Tavish could stand upright. Cool air washed over us, carrying the scent of damp stone and earth. But the cave was dry and out of the wind.
Portia leaned against the wall, her face pale. She put a hand down her bodice only to lower it when she obviously remembered I’d taken the velvet bag from her. It was a small, warm weight against my ribs.
Tavish stalked around the cave, picking up sticks and tossing them into a pile. “Maybe we should try the chronomancer’s spell again.”
“No,” Portia said, worry threading her voice. “What if I make everything worse?”
I crossed to her and took her hands. Her fingers were like ice, and I chafed them between my palms. “You don’t know that. You might have made everything better.”
Doubt gathered in her emerald eyes. “What if I erased Chloe? Or caused some future catastrophe?” Her expression went stark. “I might have erased myself.”
“Och, lass, none of that, now.” I squeezed her fingers. “You didn’t erase yourself. You’re right here in front of me.”
The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “That’s true.”
Tavish arranged his sticks in a neat pile, then crouched and snapped his fingers. Flames roared to life, and a merry glow spread through the cave.
He straightened, dusting his hands. “That’s one problem solved.”
Portia picked a leaf from her hair. Dirt streaked her skin, and she gasped as she examined the muck embedded under her nails. “I need to wash up. I can’t think when I’m dirty.” She cleared her throat. “I also have to pee.”
I groped for the meaning of the unfamiliar word. “Pee?”
“Urinate,” she said, blushing.
Ah.
I went to the cave’s entrance and peered out. The dark clouds remained on the horizon, and shafts of late afternoon sunlight strained toward the ground.
“It looks like the rain will hold off for a bit.” Turning, I extended a hand to Portia. “Come on, lass. We’ll find a place to pee.”
She smiled as she crossed the cave and tucked her hand in mine.
