by Donna Hosie
There was constant noise, but not enough to drown out a conversation. Music played from behind closed doors. Laughter was smothered by coughing. I could sense the paranoia and stress. The whole building vibrated with it.
Which made sense, because Henry VIII’s court had a lot to be stressed about. Spain and France were a general threat, but the powerful Catholic Church in Rome, too, was furious with England’s ruler. Henry’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon had caused the kingdom to split with the Church. Now Henry was raiding the coffers of England’s monasteries to pay for his wars and his court’s excessive behavior, further infuriating Rome.
Then there were the competing factions within the court itself. Cromwell, for instance, was hungry for greater power, a feeling cultivated by his family’s legacy of owning people and land. Another familiar face at court, Edward Seymour, hoped to gain more wealth—and access to the king—via the marriage of his sister to the royal tyrant.
I was getting more and more nervous.
“Do you require a physician, Alexander of Cleves?” asked one of the guards.
It took me a second or two to realize he was talking to me. The guard’s bloodshot eyes dropped lazily to my hand. The countdown inserted into my wrist was itching like a healing scab, and I had unconsciously been rubbing it up and down my pants. It was now pink and swollen and drawing attention.
“A physician won’t be necessary,” replied my brother, pulling down my sleeve. “But food and drink would be most welcome whilst we wait for the duke. Is there a chamber somewhere for the girl to recover her strength?”
I knew Charlie would want to interrogate her. Alice wasn’t seventeen yet; her birthday was another few months away. Assets didn’t get to go on assignments until they came of age. None of this made sense.
And Alice’s modern clothes were starting to draw attention from everyone we passed.
“We are taking you to one of the antechambers off the Great Hall,” said the guard. “It is used by the Duke of Suffolk, but I doubt he will return here before sundown. I am not aware of the lodgings given over to the duke whilst he is here. We will find out for you.”
* * *
—
Hampton Court Palace was a labyrinth of corridors and interconnecting rooms. Some were familiar to us, thanks to our reconnaissance mission, as well as a modern-day field trip we’d taken to Hampton Court when we were first given the assignment several months ago. But most rooms were mysteries. Eventually we were shown into the antechamber by the same guard. It was quite small inside, but there were two high-backed chairs next to a long table that took up the full width of the rear of the room. I scanned the tabletop quickly. There were four spent candles stuck in hardened pools of wax, and a round container filled with dark gray, glittering gunpowder. Two blankets had been draped over the arms of the chairs. There was a small fireplace, but it wasn’t lit. I could see the soot blowing around the grate as the wind whistled down the chimney. There was another door to the left of it with a set of black keys hanging from the catch.
“I will return with wine and food,” said the guard, scratching his face. “Are you quite sure you do not require a physician?”
“Quite sure,” I replied. “Thank you for your attention. Could you let the duke know where we are, and if you see a yeoman called Marlon, could you let him know that the sons of Cleves have returned?”
“I will,” he replied with a short bow. It looked like we had convinced him, but as he left the room, the door was pulled shut with a solid thump. Everything suddenly felt smaller and cocoonlike. The heavy thud of wood on stone echoed under the gap of the door. I could see shadows outside.
We were being guarded.
I looked down at my wrist. The skin around the small display was inflamed with a pink glow and was already developing a yellow-white crust.
“That doesn’t look good,” said Charlie, peering at my wrist. “You need to stop scratching it or people are going to notice.”
I hadn’t told my brother that I was sure Lady Margaret had already seen it.
“I have a countdown too, Charlie,” whispered Alice, pulling up the sleeve of her shirt. “I wasn’t supposed to have an assignment yet. I don’t…I can’t…”
Alice’s display wasn’t inserted into her skin in the neat, almost indistinguishable way displays were usually placed. Her panel was crude and crooked and had not been color-matched to her skin tone.
It had been inserted in a rush.
“What was the last thing you remember, Alice?” asked Charlie. “Who was the last person you recall speaking to? Can you remember anyone attacking you?”
He was still holding on to Alice’s wrist, but she shivered and he immediately dropped it. Charlie picked up a blanket from the closest chair. It was olive-colored and made of wool. He wrapped it around Alice’s shoulders and scooped her curls away from her neckline. That act of intimacy sent a spike of annoyance through my gut. Charlie wasn’t thinking like an Asset. He was thinking like an ex-boyfriend who wanted to be sans the ex. Alice had red marks on the nape of her neck shaped like fingerprints. There were several scratches, too, one of which looked rather nasty.
“Anything you remember, however small and inconsequential, can help,” prompted Charlie.
“It was Grinch,” replied Alice. “She came to see me in my room—it was right after you both left the compound with the other Assets with European assignments. She held a piece of material to my face—it was chloroform, because I recognized the sweetness before it knocked me out. I tried to fight her but I couldn’t. When I woke up, I was on a plane—not a commercial jet, it was private, because there were only a few seats. “I guess I passed out again because the next thing I remember is waking up in a car outside the Louvre. Grinch must have been waiting for me to come around, enough so I could walk in with her under my own power….”
“But not enough to realize what was going on, or to fight back,” Charlie said, rubbing his temples.
“Yes. And then…then we went in, and she took me to this supply room or something. Right near gallery twelve. It was so weird—it was like we were the only people in the whole place. I went through the door and then she said she was locking me in there. For my protection. And that she’d be back. When she opened the door again I was feeling better, so I started screaming and running—”
“That was you we heard?” asked Charlie.
“—But the only way out was through the gallery. Grinch caught me by the Holbein and all of a sudden we were traveling. She went through the time loop with me. And then…here we were. I went through the Quickening and started screaming again and she left me. She left me, Charlie.”
“This is insane,” I said. “You shouldn’t be here. What the hell was Grinch doing?”
I swore as Alice let out a frustrated cry. “My head hurts! Everything hurts. I shouldn’t be here, Charlie!”
“You need to keep your voice down, Alice!” I ordered. “The door is thick but there’s a big gap underneath it. They’re going to be listening.”
“Don’t yell at me!” cried Alice. “This isn’t my fault.”
“I know!” I yelled. “I know,” I repeated. “I’m sorry, okay? I just—none of this makes sense, and I want to try to make sense of it. I need some air. I’ll be back soon.”
I was pretty sure the guard outside would permit me a brief walk, so I stormed to the door and flung it open.
“The duke is not yet ready to receive you,” said the guard.
“I need a walk,” I snapped, “and I—”
I noticed that the guard’s eyes had drifted away from me. I turned around to see what had captured his attention and saw two young women I recognized immediately.
“Lady Margaret,” I said, trying to sound pleased. “Lady Cecily. It is a delight to see you both again so soon.”
“Alexander of Cleves,” said Lady Marga
ret. “You have returned.”
“And I am delighted to say we are staying this time.”
“You departed so…so abruptly,” she said, her face turning pink.
“We like to travel at night,” I replied. “It means we can sleep during the journey.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Margaret. Now hives were appearing on her neck.
Her reaction was making me nervous. I needed to know what was going on in her head.
“May I escort you to wherever it was you were going? I have forgotten my way around the palace, and I wish to get reacquainted.”
Lady Cecily looked terrified, but she was clearly younger than Lady Margaret and was taking her cue from her.
“It—it would be our pleasure,” said Lady Margaret, after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Tell me, Alexander of Cleves, how was your homeland?”
The charming son of Cleves had returned, and he was born for this.
My brother had gone. I heard muffled voices outside, male and female, and then shadows moved. Then it was silent.
“Go after him,” whispered Alice. “Leave me.”
“Not a chance,” I replied.
I swept the curls from her hairline and took a closer look at the cut on her head. It was about two inches long, and the skin around it was already starting to bruise with a pale green swelling. The blood had dried into her hair, and I could smell something like aniseed, which I knew wasn’t her shampoo. I remembered burying my nose in her hair and smelling apples, back when we used to lie on my bed and Alice would wonder about life outside The 48, what living it would be like. Uncertain, I always replied. For me, that wasn’t a good thing.
“Charlie,” whispered Alice. “You have to help me. I haven’t had the training for this mission. I haven’t been formally trained for any mission. I’m putting you both in danger. What if Grinch or other Assets from The 48 are looking for me? What if I shouldn’t have left that building back there?”
I didn’t know what to say to her because I had no idea what was going on.
The events outside our hotel, the screaming at the Louvre, Alice being drugged and dragged into an assignment that wasn’t hers—these were all real and present problems that I didn’t know how to deal with. They were major deviations from the prescribed order, and I’d been raised to believe nothing should deviate from the prescribed order.
My adherence to that philosophy was why I broke up with Alice in the first place. Because I could feel myself…deviating.
Deviations were not the way of The 48. The 48 controlled our time. Our emotions. Our humanity. So again…what the hell was going on?
Deep breaths.
Calm the heart rate.
Repeat a Tenet.
Get back on assignment.
We of The 48 consider toxicology a key area of study. Knowledge in this discipline could mean the difference between life and death. All Assets are to become conversant with the naturally occurring toxins and chemical combinations can cause death in humans. Toxicology is to be studied in conjunction with ethnobotany. Trainee Assets will be required to test chemicals on one another to build immunity, and to learn how to create an antidote under pressure.
I repeated it over and over again until I felt my body relaxing. Everything was going to be all right. The 48 might not like deviations, but no institution in the world was better equipped to handle them. And these probably weren’t deviations to begin with. Grinch and Aramis would explain everything.
I sent for water. Alice drank and then collapsed into near-unconsciousness. After making sure she was warm, I dozed too.
A while later, I fully woke and was about to go out and start looking for Alex when he walked into the room. There was a strong smell of wine about him, but his eyes were clear. Judging from the large red stain on his sleeve, I guessed he had been drinking with the yeomen, and probably taking mental notes the whole time.
My brother could make friends with a statue and get it spilling secrets.
Alice was still asleep on the floor, wrapped up in the wool blanket.
“Where have you been?” I snapped as Alex flopped onto the floor. “We need to find out where the hell Aramis is.”
“Drinking, surveilling, and trying to avoid romantic entanglements with just about every woman at court,” replied Alex. “Even the serving girls are delighted about the return of the sons of Cleves, and once I confirmed we were unattached…jeez. Marlon was a huge help in distracting them, but he can’t be around all the time, and this could start getting in the way of our progress around here.”
“Give me strength.”
“Marlon thinks you have a gittern stuck up your ass, by the way.”
“A gittern…”
“It’s like a guitar.”
“I know what a gittern is—”
“It’s depressing, actually, how obsessed everyone around here is with hooking up, pairing up, getting married, forging alliances, blah blah…”
“Yeah. Agreed. It sucks. Mostly for the women. But we’re not here to—”
“I know, I know.” Alex held up his hand. “I know what we’re here for.” He lay back on the stone floor with his hands linked behind his head. “So have you worked out why Alice is here?”
I shook my head. “No. And Alice doesn’t have a clue either. She does have a nasty cut on her head and scratches on the back of her neck, though. If she gets an infection here in this time, it could be deadly. We need to clean her up when she wakes.”
“We need to find the painting of Henry and send Alice back somehow, Charlie.”
“How? She has a timer, set the same as ours, so she’s absorbed the radiation of a forty-eight-day trip, not one of the shorter reconnaissance ones. She can’t leave until the countdown’s at zero. And anyway, what if she’s really supposed to be here? What if the reason she’s here is to protect her from something bad in the present day? We just don’t know enough yet.”
Alex growled in frustration. “Why isn’t Aramis here yet?”
“For all we know, Henry’s chopped his head off.”
My sarcasm was meant to mask my worry. We had known Aramis our whole lives. He was thirty-three years old, and when he wasn’t time writing, he taught the Imperative of Renaissance history at The 48, which was the time period between the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries. He was a rotund guy—still in excellent shape, but easily the largest of all the Assets—and he was very knowledgeable about all aspects of the Renaissance. Aramis wasn’t known for being a fighter, but we wouldn’t need that on this assignment. But with Alice here, he would know what to do. He was one of the good guys at the institute.
“So what else were you doing while you were off sulking, other than drinking and avoiding aggressive admirers?” I asked.
“Getting reacquainted with Lady Margaret.”
“Lady Margaret?” I wished I was better at remembering names and faces on the periphery. The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
“A maid of honor. You’ve seen her before, but I don’t think you talked to her. She was with Anne Boleyn the first time we met the queen. Lady Margaret could be useful, although there was something about her this time that was…different. But we’ll need allies close to Jane Seymour, and they’re both waiting on the queen.”
“Nice work.”
Alex looked rather sheepish. “Yeah, well, I was kind of a jackass earlier when I took off, and I wanted to impress you.”
“I’m impressed, but not surprised. You’re really good with people, Alex. Much better than me.”
We fist-bumped. Alex and I didn’t tend to hug it out.
We looked down at Alice. I could see her eyes moving behind her translucent lids. Spidery veins threaded out across the skin.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I said, putting my hand on my brother’s shoulder. “This was probably a surprise tra
ining exercise for Alice. We’ll confirm with Aramis when he gets here and tell him everything. He’ll know what the deal is with Grinch’s involvement. Maybe she’s taking over the assignment from him. That would explain a lot.”
“I’ll take your lead on this, brother,” said Alex. “I like Alice. A lot. But I’ll be happier when it’s back to being the two of us.”
Alex sat down in one of the high-backed chairs, and immediately his breathing changed, going from short and shallow to deep and sonorous. I couldn’t believe it. He was falling asleep—again. I put the spare blanket around his shoulders and settled down on the floor next to Alice. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I’d always thought she looked so interesting when she slept. Alice had the skill of being able to power nap at any time of the day—she was even better at it than my brother. During the previous summer, before I came to my senses and ended our relationship, she and I had taken to meeting in this really nice garden that The 48 had. It wasn’t created for Assets’ pleasure, really—it was used more regularly as a classroom for botany studies—but no one was ever stopped from strolling in it. Sometimes we would lie under a wooden pergola that was covered in white-and-yellow honeysuckle. Not because it was romantic, but because the scent was amazing. I would read to Alice and she would fall asleep within minutes. She said my voice was soothing; I always thought she was using a euphemism for boring. Those times were nice. Just a few moments every now and then when we weren’t trainee Assets. I was surprised to find myself looking forward to them more and more.
Then one day Alice started wondering if her parents—both Assets, both dead—had ever lain down in the same spot. She asked if my parents—both Assets, both dead—had done the same. It was weird. It made me think of a future that I knew I couldn’t have. I knew it was stupid, but after that one conversation, all I could see was me and Alice and our future kids and then every one of us dead because of The 48.