He didn’t change for anyone.
And he never would.
I crossed my arms, forcing my voice to stay level.
“What if Rosie gets sick from time travel?” I challenged. “What if she freaks out? Will you even have a clue what to do?”
Malik’s emerald gaze lifted to mine—cold, unreadable, frost melting frost.
“I think I can manage,” he retorted.
His voice sent a shiver down my spine.
Then, with a dismissive glance toward the door, he added, “Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”
His tone was final.
“Go get some rest, collect whatever you plan to bring, and prepare yourself,” Malik said. “There’s much to be done before we time travel tomorrow.”
A ball of resentment churned inside me, but I forced myself to stay silent.
The moon hung high in the sky, a perfect circle of cold silver. Its light spilled through the window, pooling across the floor like liquid mercury.
Excitement and dread warred inside my chest.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
This time, we wouldn’t just be stepping into the past.
This time, we were going with Malik.
With Rosie.
With Emily.
We made our way down the dim hallway toward our rooms, the hush of the house stretching long and eerie around us.
A shiver ran through me—part thrill, part terror—as I imagined what awaited us in Italy.
What we might find.
Who might we face?
And what would it cost us in the end?
***
The following morning at breakfast, I sat beside Rosie, watching her swirl mashed potatoes into spirals without taking a bite.
I took a breath, forcing my voice into something light and excited.
“Rosie,” I said gently, “we’re going on another trip today.”
She looked up, her little mouth pouting. “What kind of trip?”
“Oh, it’ll be a fun trip,” I assured her. “We’re going far, far away.”
Her small fingers paused over her plate. She studied me, those keen little eyes far too knowing for her age.
