“Yes,” I whispered, my tone careful. “My English is not perfect, but I understand. I can speak… some.”
A lie. I knew enough English when I first arrived—more now, after living with Philip. But I’d learned it was safer to pretend ignorance when it served me.
“What’s your name?”
I hesitated.
Philip never knew my real name. To him, I was alwaysFrancesca—a false name for a false life. But something about John James made me want to be honest—if only for a moment.
“Alina,” I said finally.
His eyes lit up. “A beautiful name! I’m so glad you’re a time traveler—this is wonderful!” He patted my shoulder with a sudden, almost paternal affection. “Don’t worry, my child, I will help you. We’ve been waiting for someone like you. Once you’ve rested, I’ll introduce you to Dancing Fire. He’s a good man. His tribe is good people.”
I recoiled, a small whimper escaping me. “No… no, please. I won’t hear of it.”
Panic clawed at my chest. After everything—being captured, being watched—I couldn’t stomach the idea of meeting another stranger, let alone a whole tribe.
John James lowered himself to his knees and gently took my hands. His gaze was steady, warm. “Nothing bad will happen to you. Not while I’m here. You’re safe, Alina. I promise.”
Iwantedto believe him. Ineededto believe him. But in a land this wild and strange, nothing felt certain. Still, I gave a faint nod, and his smile returned—gentle, reassuring. He squeezed my hands.
But then his expression shifted—his voice turning more serious.
“You’ll need help to find the daggers,” he said. “Dancing Fire is a time traveler, too. And it’s better to search in pairs. Trust me.”
My stomach twisted.Anothertime traveler?
Is he a darkness, too?
I recoiled at his offer. If I’d wanted a partner, I would’ve chosen Balthazar—the man I once loved. Not some stranger. Notanyone. No matter who they were, I wouldn’t give an ounce of my power away.
“I’d rather go alone,” I said firmly.
John James’ expression shifted. His eyes turned cold, hard. “No, you wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t dream of letting you.”
His stare rooted me in place, dread creeping down my spine like ice water. My skin was dampened with cold sweat. What did he know about the blades that I didn’t? Why was he so insistent?
Doubt flared—was Malik wrong? Or worse… had helied?
But just as quickly, John James softened. His posture relaxed, and his smile returned, this time warm and disarming. Too warm.
“Come now,” he said, standing. “Let’s get you something to eat. When we meet Dancing Fire and his people, you’ll want your strength.”
He stepped outside. The door creaked open on rusted hinges, groaning like a warning. I stayed behind, perched on the edge of the bed, my foot tapping nervously against the warped wooden floorboards. My heart pounded, anticipation tightening my chest as I waited for his return from the dark outbuilding beyond the trees.
The cabin around me was sparsely furnished but filled with curiosities. The bed I sat on was stretched animal hide slung between two thick logs, pushed against the far wall. In the corner stood a rough-hewn desk cluttered with odd tools and peculiar contraptions I didn’t recognize. A dusty, timeworn book leaned against a stack of parchment, beside a half-empty bottle of dark liquid and a bowl brimming with dried herbs. A dim oil lamp swayed from the ceiling, casting a flickering glow across the walls.
I rose, tempted to inspect the artifacts—perhaps find answers—but the door creaked again.
John James returned, arms laden with food. He placed it on a small, dust-covered table shoved against the back wall, clearly seldom used.
My stomach growled at the sight of salted pork, dried fruits, and something that looked like pickled vegetables. The aroma hit me in briny, sweet, savory waves, and my mouth watered uncontrollably.
John James piled a generous portion onto a tin plate and handed it to me. I took it eagerly, barely thanking him before devouring the food like a starving animal. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten a proper meal.
He settled onto a hewn log across from me, chewing absently on a pickle as he watched me eat.
“How did you find me?” he asked after a beat. “Who told you to come?”
