“Do you speak English?” he asked gently.
“A little,” I murmured, watching the door like a hawk, every nerve bracing to run.
“Good.” He stepped closer and extended a hand. “I won’t hurt you.”
I didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
His hand hovered in the space between us. I looked down at it through narrowed eyes. My skin was caked in dirt, my hair a wild, tangled mess. I hadn’t bathed in days. What reason could I possibly have to trust him?
He gestured again, slower this time. “I promise. My name is John James.”
The name hit me like a blow to the chest.
John James.
My knees buckled.
The room spun.
And the last thing I saw was his face before everything went black.
Chapter 23
Alina
Ijolted awake, heart racing, ears straining for the sound that had ripped me from sleep. At first, there was only silence—then came the low murmur of a voice, growing louder and clearer. It was English. Urgent. Rambling.
In the dim corner of the room, a man crouched, his back to me. Papers and strange objects were scattered at his feet, and his hands moved in frantic, jittery motions. “Can’t leave these out. Not with them sniffing around. No, no, no...” He shoved the items into a worn rucksack.
I pushed myself upright and leaned forward, seeing one of the parchments before he stuffed it away. The wordstime travelwere written in elegant, fluid script.
My pulse skipped.
It was him—John James.
I cleared my throat.
He spun toward me, startled. His eyes, wide and sharp, landed on mine.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I said evenly. “And if you’re trying to hide your time travel documents, don’t bother.”
He blinked. Once. Twice. Then let out a weary sigh. His shoulders slumped. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m hiding,” I admitted. “From a man named Balthazar. He’s—” I hesitated. “He’s a monster.”
Something flickered in John James’ eyes—recognition, maybe even fear—but vanished too quickly. Had I imagined it?
“I need to find the Sun and Moon Daggers,” I told him. “I’m a time traveler.”
He studied me in silence, his expression unreadable. Then he rose, his gaze fixed on mine—no longer questioning, but understanding.
“You’re a time traveler?” he asked, wonder and skepticism mingling in his voice.
“I am,” I said, instinctively stepping back as he approached.
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Your accent…” He rocked back on his heels and gestured toward me. “You sound like you’re from distant lands. So, you’ve picked up some English?”
