Sloan took his time to acknowledge her question. He went on examining the stack of paper on the desk. Finally after a long pause of silence, except for the rustling of papers, he looked up at her, his eyes regarding her with disdain. “Your boyfriend is still working on Rei. Last I saw, he had just started with the anesthesia.”
He was baiting her, trying to assess her relationship with Knox. It was not a surprise. As Rei’s second-in-command, it was his duty to guard his commander’s claim. Domineering men were all the same, territorial and with a one-track mind, no matter which era they came from. Calmly, she replied, “Knox is a top surgeon trained by the Air Force. He’ll get the bullet out and repair any damage.”
Sloan watched her for a moment and went back to the papers in front of him, ignoring her again. Determined not to let his chilling attitude keep her from what she wanted to know, what she needed to know, she stepped up to the desk and pressed her hands down on the stack of papers he was so interested in reading. “Did you know Elizabeth?”
She could not read his expression except the intense scrutiny from his aquamarine eyes, which had just changed from the light of calm to a deep, tempestuous, stormy-green. “No, I did not.” Disappointed, but not willing to be shut out so easily, she pressed on. “Are you Rei’s brother?”
A hint of emotion finally crept across his impenetrable expression, but he remained silent. She knew she had him right there. “You are, aren’t you? Knox and Butch saw the Last Battle. They didn’t see any survivors from the Serbian royal army, but rumors had it that some of the emperor’s sons survived. You and Rei were the surviving sons.”
Sloan stepped from behind the desk and moved directly in front of her. He was trying to intimidate her with his size and mean-ass attitude, but he had picked the wrong girl to bully. Without any prelude, she pulled the daggers out of her utility belt in one fluid movement and pressed them directly against his groin as a warning. His face was momentarily stunned, but in a flash, he took hold of her daggers and threw them like darts against the wall next to the fireplace. She was impressed. He was definitely good, very good indeed. Not to be outdone so easily, she ducked and swept her foot out at him, causing him to lose his balance momentarily, but he managed to break his fall with a back roll. Instead of landing on his back, he was now in a crouching position by the fireplace, like an angry lion ready to leap at its attacker. She tensed up too, fully prepared to defend herself.
But to her surprise, Sloan stood up slowly instead. “Impressive. If you were Elizabeth, you’re certainly not her anymore.” Pulling the daggers out of the wall, he said, “Yes, we’re the surviving sons of our father.” He handed the daggers back to her. “We are the last of the House of Dusan.”
“What do you mean if I were Elizabeth?” Her eyes wearily tracked his movement. If she did not trust Rei, she trusted his brother even less. The animosity from Sloan was much more palpable now than when they were introduced earlier.
“No one had met Elizabeth. Rei didn’t talk much about her, either.” He stepped back to behind the desk and bent down sideways, as if he were pulling something out from the back of one of the drawers. There must be a secret compartment in there.
“Here. If Rei ever finds out I know where he keeps the secrets of his precious Elizabeth, brother or no brother, he’ll skin me alive.” He held out a soft leather-bound journal to her. His words were grave, but he did not sound too concerned.
She opened the journal and saw a drawing of a young woman, a younger likeness of her, with the same sparkling eyes and warm smile as the girl in the painting on the wall. Tracing her fingers lightly on the drawing, she could tell by the soft lines and strokes that the drawing had been crafted with love and tenderness.
“You do look like her, but you are surely nothing like Rei remembers her, how he describes her in his journal.”
Skyla flipped through the first few dozen pages and found Rei’s chronological records of his journey across the Black Sea and the Mediterranean Sea and his first month after arriving at Florence in the guise of a merchant’s son. Every detail of his disguise that he had prepared for were perfect, flawless. Rei would have been a great covert agent in her time.
The journal was written in Italian. It was common for merchants in the Mediterranean Sea area to know multiple languages. The language was no problem for Skyla, given she woke up speaking an old form of Italian, and she took it as second language courses in college. Rei recorded how much he had missed his homeland until he met Elizabeth, the daughter and niece of two prominent scientists in Florence during the Renaissance period. It was October 1586 when Rei first met Elizabeth at a science lecture held by her uncle, Giovanni Magini.
When Skyla read the subject of the lecture, the corner of her mouth tilted up a little. How fitting that the lecture was about time travel. Rei described in his journal the chance meeting as love at first sight for both Elizabeth and himself. He was twenty-nine and Elizabeth was only sixteen years old. Wincing inwardly, she noted that the ages matched up. She had been told that she was seventeen years old when she first woke up from the coma.
Journal entry: October 14, 1586
I looked around the lecture hall for any familiar faces but found none. Father’s spies had mentioned that the Fiorentini were on the verge of a scientific breakthrough, and that whoever holds the key to this time traveling discovery will be the conqueror of all known worlds. Signore Magini’s lecture was indeed fascinating; he claimed his machine was close to being ready for testing on livestock.
I stayed after the lecture, hoping to speak more with Magini about his machine. When the crowd finally thinned out, that’s when I saw her. She wore her long, chestnut-brown hair in a braid that reached below her waist. When she moved, the sway of the braid matched the seductive movements of her curvy hips. She was medium height with a slight build. Judging from the open, innocent expression on her face, I know she was very young, probably no older than sixteen, a mere girl. Yet I could not help but feel drawn to her, even though I’m much older than she, and I had seen more blood and cruelty than she could ever imagine.
Like a moth drawn to the flame, I boldly walked up to her and introduced myself. Her name was Elizabeth Magini, the niece of Giovanni Magini. I should’ve been pleased to know she was related to my target. It would’ve made my task easier. But, I was too mesmerized by her warmth, emanating not from her body but from her genuinely caring face, to care much about my mission, my objective. Her bright smile reminded me of the warm summer months my brothers and I used to spend at our grandparents’ estate in the south by the coastline back home.
As soon as I reached for her hand for a polite kiss, I was electrified. And I saw her big chocolate-brown eyes became bigger and shinier. She must have felt the same pulsing currents between us because she blushed. It was the prettiest shade of pink I’d ever seen. She was shy yet curious at the same time. Just like me, she must have been suspecting something more was about to happen. I didn’t want to frighten her or alarm her uncle, who was still talking to a few gentlemen lingering after from the lecture. So I told her I’d be paying her uncle a visit the next day. As I was walking away from her, I knew right then and there nothing could’ve kept me away from her.
Journal entry: December 25, 1586
First day of Christmas. I wish I could show Elizabeth my ancestral land, which must be blanketed by soft white snow already. Florence has been cold, but not cold enough to have snow. I bet she has never seen snow in her life. I went to church with her and her father. Her uncle and cousin were also there. As usual, her cousin Antonio looked at me with suspicious eyes. He has been rising steadily within the ranks of the House of Medici. Rumor has it he’ll be the next captain of the guards soon. On more than one occasion, he has asked about my father’s business in Greece under the pretense that the Medici family want to expand their shipping route beyond the Mediterranean Sea, which I always politely decline with the excuse that my father’s shipping business is too small to be worthy as pa
rt of Medici’s big shipping empire. I can tell Antonio is not satisfied with the brush off, and soon he’ll press again. I have no doubt about it.
Skyla was impressed by how meticulously Rei recorded the months he’d spent with Elizabeth, the laugher and the dreams they shared. They were inseparable and could not imagine life without each other. She hadn’t remembered much of their past yet, but her mind’s eye could see those days described in his journal. It was almost as if she were watching an old movie of two lovers, of herself and Rei, fuzzy yet familiar.
It was a while before she looked up from reading the journal. Pale light was already spreading over the horizon; dawn was coming. Yet she could not stop reading their love story. She forged on and flipped to the next page. The date on it knocked all the air from her. She knew the date. She had no idea why she knew the date, but it was an important one.
Journal entry: June 28, 1587
Today is the happiest of my life. Elizabeth just agreed to marry me. I gave her my mother’s ruby ring, and she loved it. It looked regal on her long, delicate finger. And it fit her like a queen, like it fit my mother’s. I didn’t tell her the ring was part of my father’s royal crown treasures. I cannot tell her yet who I really am, not until I get the time travel machine blueprint from her uncle.
We have agreed to wait for a few weeks before I formally ask her father’s permission to take her hand. I also need time to let my father know of this happy news and my decision to abdicate my right of succession to the throne. I will be settling down in Florence with Elizabeth so that she can be close to her father and uncle, and even that wretched cousin of hers. I have already dispatched a messenger with my letter to my father. I still cannot believe Elizabeth will be mine soon.
Skyla felt a warm tug at her heart. Her memories started showing her more of the past—imagines of being in a sunflower field, of her in Rei’s embrace looking up at a gigantic blood-red ruby ring on her hands. She was so happy, she was so in love. She was Elizabeth. At that moment, she had no more doubt of who she was and her relationship with Rei. And she also knew what would come next. Doom to both of them, to her family.
Journal entry: July 10, 1587
Father’s messenger just left. The Ottoman Turks have declared war against my father’s kingdom, my ancestral land. My father and my countrymen will be at war again. My message to my father about Elizabeth and my decision to abdicate my right of succession to the throne must have crossed paths with his recall message to me. I have no choice but to return home immediately. My father needs me. My people need me. I will not let my people die at the hands of the power-hungry war moguls. But what am I to tell Elizabeth? She will not understand and will likely think I am the enemy because of the House of Medici’s close ties with the Ottoman sultan. I cannot live, and I will not live, without her. If I have to take her by force, so be it. Arrangements have already been made. Elizabeth and I will sail out of Florence at dusk. Forgive me, my Elizabeth.
Skyla’s hands trembled as she read on. Memories of the past were coming more into focus now. She had already seen through Rei’s dream back at the Agency of what happened the day her cousin and the Medici guards came to arrest Rei, and she traded her life for his. Rei did not record that heartrending day in his journal, but she remembered as clearly as the bleak winter sky. The next entry he made was two months afterward.
Journal entry: September 26, 1587
I disobeyed father’s direct order and came back to Florence for Elizabeth. I immediately went to her home, but I could not get closer because there were guards at the gate, and mourning shrouds were put up on all windows. I went back to the inn and discreetly asked around the local establishments for any news related to the Magini’s family. To my shock and despair, whispers on the streets said the Magini girl perished. It was a suicide to escape marrying her groom-to-be, Fernando Medici. I refuse to believe Elizabeth had taken her own life. The gossipers probably have it all wrong. Medici probably has her locked away, but they would not harm her. Her family would not stand for it, not even her despicable cousin Antonio. I must go to her father tomorrow.
Journal entry: September 27, 1587
Elizabeth is truly gone. Her uncle saw her disappear with the time machine. There’s no way to know which era she traveled to or whether she’s safe. Her uncle wept and said he couldn’t recreate the machine without Elizabeth’s help. I wish I could gut the old man for siring Antonio. He traded Elizabeth for riches and glories. And now she’s gone. My Elizabeth, I promise you I will not give up on us, and I will find you no matter the cost, even if it be my immortal soul. Tomorrow I have to sail back to my father’s kingdom. Word of the Ottoman soldiers setting sail toward Serbia have reached Florence. My father and brothers need me now. But make no mistake, Elizabeth, I’ll find you no matter when and where you are.
Cool droplets fell on Skyla’s fingertips. They were her tears, silently rolling down her cheeks. Now she remembered how frightened she had been when Fernando Medici tried to force himself on her. She remembered how he’d almost broken her into submission with his sick, perverted games. She remembered her desperate, silent cries for Rei, worrying for his safety yet wishing he were there to save her. And she remembered herself inside her uncle’s untested time machine, activating the device. And the rest was history. She looked down at the journal. It was the last entry.
Journal entry: October 31, 1587
Our army was completely overpowered by the Ottoman soldiers. We stood our ground behind the castle wall for five days, but the Turks finally overran us. I tried to get my father away to the secret underground tunnel, but he refused to leave while his men fought on. Then all of a sudden, the sky darkened. At first I thought it was storm clouds closing in but then realized that it was thousands of arrows shooting toward us, obscuring the sky. I rushed toward my father, hoping to shield him from the coming onslaught, but I was too late. Everything was too late.
Sheer pain from multiple arrow wounds must have knocked me out for a moment. When I opened my eyes, the silence around me was deafening. Then I saw my father’s and brothers’ lifeless bodies next to me. I tried to howl, but I found no voice. I desperately wanted to go to them, but I couldn’t move. I was pinned down by arrows, which, I now realized, had been dipped in poison. It was spreading rapidly through my limbs. I knew I was dying, and I actually welcomed it. Maybe this way I’d see Elizabeth again.
As my vision turned gray and coldness began to creep through my body, I saw Elizabeth and felt her warm, delicate hands pressing on my forehead and heart. I could see her lips moving, saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear anything. Then suddenly my vision became clearer, and I could hear the oncoming battle cries from the Turks; they were not far now. They would scour our city for survivors to torture and to enslave. I prayed to the gods to spare my people, those who did not make it out of the city in time. Then I looked up at the slight figure crouching next to me, hoping it was truly Elizabeth—but it was not her. I had never seen the woman kneeling before me. She couldn’t be from my homeland because she had the palest skin I’d ever seen and long, wavy blonde hair. Her thin sleeveless silk gown was almost translucent under the bright autumn sun. Before I could ask her who she was, she told me that I had a choice to make: to die alongside of my father and brothers or to have vengeance.
Then she waved her hand in front of me, and a vision appeared of Elizabeth trapped in a chair by Fernando’s imposing arms. His expression was licentious and menacing, and he was speaking to her. There was no sound from the vision. But I didn’t need to hear what he was saying because Elizabeth’s big brown eyes rounded with increasing alarm. Her lips were trembling. She tried to push Fernando off her, but that only excited him more. The bastard laughed and lifted his filthy hand to Elizabeth’s head while she struggled to push herself back against the chair, desperately trying to turn her head away from his disgusting mouth. It was obvious that her rebellion turned the monster on more. He grabbed her breast as if he possessed them, and with su
ch force that Elizabeth screamed. And Fernando seized the opportunity, his mouth blanketing hers, gagging her. She resisted with all her might, and somehow her foot struck hard at his groin. With a howl, he slapped Elizabeth on the face with so much force that a red handprint was left behind.
I had seen enough of the abuse my Elizabeth had suffered. I bolted up, and my arm went for the blonde woman’s neck. There was so much rage and pain inside of me that I just wanted to kill. She didn’t cower from my vicious hold. Instead she calmly asked me again if I wanted to die along the side of my father and brothers or if I wanted vengeance. My rage refused to subside, and I squeezed her slim, cool neck harder. Maybe because her expression remained unconcerned in the face of my irrational brutality and indifferent to the killing haze shining through my eyes, my hand loosened after several heart beats. I knew I had lost everything that mattered to me, my Elizabeth, my family, my people. There was nothing left besides death. But before I surrendered to death, I would have my vengeance upon those who had stolen the only pure, good thing that had happened to me, my Elizabeth, and those who relentlessly attacked my ancestral land in the name of their gods. So I told the blonde woman that I wanted vengeance.
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