I may have omitted the fact I’m trying to pinpoint the exact location of where I magically time traveled almost five hundred years into the past. Something tells me she wouldn’t receive it well.
“I’m embarrassed,” I say instead. “I don’t want people to know that I’ve forgotten things after my accident. It’ll make me look weak.”
Bessie bumps my shoulder as she leans into my side. “Of course, one can’t appear weak when they’re about to beHer Royal Highness, theQueen of England.”
She bats her eyelashes at me, and I resume walking. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I would have found out in two days whether you told me or not,” she points out. “The wholeworldis going to know of the king’s new bride. We just won’t tell anyone that your mind is on the lighter side of the scales these days.”
My gaze lingers on a baroque tapestry as we round a corner, leading into a hall that is full of windows. Familiar windows. I gasp and grab Bessie’s arm, yanking her back to my side.
“Wait,” I whisper. “I know this hallway!” Moonlight filters into the silent space, and I quickly look across from the windows to see the doors. Those godforsaken chapel doors that I touched right before I got sent back here. This is where I was in the future! “That’s the chapel, isn’t it?” My voice is vibrating with nerves and hope as Bessie holds the candle up higher.
“Yes, it’s the king’s chapel.”
I’m here! I’m in the Haunted Gallery! Elation fills my rib cage and bubbles outward. I bounce on my toes as Bessie lethargically begins walking toward the doors.
“We aren’t going to pray, are we?” she asks. “I will if you want to, but you should know that I have already prayed on seven separate occasions today.”
The only thing I’m praying for is that I can get thefuckout of here!
“No,” I tell her, gripping her arm to slow her advance. “Just wait here for a second.”
She does as I ask, and I take a tentative step forward into the hall on my own. I close my eyes, hoping to feel something—a tingle, a visceral rumbling, anything that could pull me home. But all I sense is my own frenzied desperation to teleport. Opening my eyes back up, I commit to the plan of action I decided on before we got here.
Sprinting.
I take off in a mad dash down the hall with Bessie’s astonished voice trailing behind me. I run with frantic purpose and determination, storming the gallery like a too-excited extra in aBraveheartbattle sequence. This has to work! It has to!
But it doesn’t.
I come to a skidding stop in front of the closed chapel doors, my skirts whooshing all around me. And I’m still here.
I’m panting and disappointed, but I’m not giving up. I hike my dress up and walk back to Bessie, whose horrified expression somewhat softens the blow of my initial defeat.
“What madness is this, Catherine?” she asks. “What if someone sees you?”
I move to her side and face down the hall again. “It’s hard to explain. I’m going to do it a few more times.”
“A few more times?” she chokes. “Catherine, why...”
I’m running at full speed again before her words reach me. This hallway is the key to my getting home. It has to be.
A half hour later, I’m bent over at the waist, bracing my hands just above my wobbling knees. “What number is that?” I wheeze out.
Bessie is sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the paneled wall. She doesn’t bother to open her overtired eyes before answering me. “Twenty-two.”
I’m sweating profusely when I straighten back up. Determined to solider on, I trudge forward to stand directly in front of the chapel doors. I place my hands on the varnished wood, then rest my forehead against it. I close my eyes and imagine myself in the right time. Back with Zoe. Back to that cloudy, rainy day. Back to when things made sense. I want to be there so badly I can almost taste it.
Please. Please. Please.
I open my eyes painstakingly slow. I look at the door. I look down at the floor-length dress I’m still wearing, watching as the moon’s rays paint striations of light along the creases. Maybe if I slam my head into the door, it’ll work. If a blood sacrifice is necessary to open the time portal, I’ll do it in a hot second.
Bessie stretches her arms up from her spot on the floor, letting out a bellowing yawn. “You know, I’ve read that an injurious fall can cause more dire effects than memory deterioration, but bearing witness to someone descending into insanity is quite another thing entirely.”
I push off from the unhelpful doors and walk over in her direction, fanning myself with my hand as I go. After the hallway half-marathon I just ran, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. “Can you hum some music for me?” I ask when I’m standing just before her feet.
Bessie doesn’t even look surprised as she glances up at me. “And what would you have me hum?”
