“Who are you?”
There was nothing more odd than talking to a moving picture on a wall hanging.
I am Bridget, the Goddess of the Past. My sister gave you a piece of the keystone, did she not?
Chloe moved closer to the tapestry to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. The image of Bridget was moving and her gaze was fixed on her as though she saw her from her place inside the fabric.
The fabric of Time?
Could it be these magical wall hangings were part of the fabric of Time?
“She did,” Chloe answered.
Her cut palm throbbed with a sudden pain she hadn’t noticed before. She glanced down at the bandage Evie had tied, wondering if it was too tight. But if it were, then surely it would have throbbed long before now.
Keep it safe. Guard it with your life. There are those who will try to take it from you. Be warned. They will use any means necessary to get it. You are its guardian now. You possess all the power of the stone.
It was as Evie had said—Evie had the power of the Present.
“But what is the power of this stone?”
The power of the Past.
Finally, one question answered. Bridget was the Goddess of the Past, which also solved the mystery of the third stone. That meant Brianna was tied to the power of the Future.
“How do I use it?” she asked.
“Och, lass, are ye talking to yerself?”
And just like that, the spell was broken and the dark-haired goddess named Bridget returned to normal inside the first tapestry.
Malcolm’s boots thumped along the stone floor as he joined her in the room, pausing next to her. He peered up at the wall hanging, question furrowing his brow.
“Were ye talking to the tapestry?”
He gave her a glance with a raised eyebrow that told her he might think she was a lunatic.
She laughed it off. “Of course not. That would be ridiculous.”
“Aye.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
Her palm still throbbed where Evie had cut it. She wondered, then, if the blood magic had somehow worked. Was that why she was compelled to come here? Why Bridget spoke to her from her woven prison?
“I was talking to myself,” she said, trying to make up an excuse. She waved toward the tapestry with her bandaged hand. “I was trying to understand how these things worked.”
He caught her hand in his, staring down at the bandage. “What happened?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a shallow cut.”
He turned her hand over to look at her palm. Most of the material covered the brand from the keystone in her skin, but it was still visible.
“Ye cut yer hand.” He glanced up at her with a knowing look.
“I said it was nothing.” She tried to pull her hand free, but he held fast.
His gaze was unwavering.
“Were ye trying to use the keystone?” he asked, his voice low.
