Five

Victor, Liza, and Peggy were our constant shadows that evening. The only time my friends and I were ever left alone was to use the bathroom. Even then, I had the tingly sensation of being watched. Dinner was a silent affair aside from the clanging of utensils. Our nighttime cram session was held in the parlor, where the two alchemists took turns lecturing us on the history of their city starting with the founding of New Orleans in the eighteenth century.

Interestingly, Charles knew details of the past one hundred plus years that Liza and Victor did not. When they misspoke, he politely said something like, “I believe you mean 1827, not 1824.”

Neither alchemist appreciated his random interjections, but Peggy giggled often from her corner. I found his encyclopedic knowledge of obscure facts impressive. I knew a lot about pinpoints in history, while Charles knew a lot about entire pockets of time.

″I did grow up in France. French and American history does overlap,” he pointed out when Gaige asked if he just wanted to teach the class. “I am surprised you all don’t know more of this.” Color rushed to his cheeks and he hurried to add, “I did not mean to imply—”

″We only learn relevant history,” Gaige interjected. He gestured to himself with one hand and Molly and me with the other. “We’ve got five hundred years on you. That’s too many dates that don’t matter.”

That night, the alchemists and Peggy slept in the parlor. We retired to our bedrooms after the grandfather clock struck one o’clock in the morning.

I couldn’t recall falling asleep and only knew that I had when an arm slid around my waist and jolted me awake. I felt the press of a body against my back, too hard and large to be Molly’s thin frame. Besides, my roommate had never tried to spoon me. Rolling over, I smiled up at Charles.

″What’d you do with Molly?” I mumbled as he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

His golden eyes twinkled in the darkness. “She kicked me out of my bed. Something about missing the way Gaige smells.” A wrinkle formed between his brows. “Though I might have misheard her.”

″Probably not.” I curled into him as he began to rub my back through the nightgown I wore. “That is definitely something she would say. Not that I’ll ever understand how anyone is attracted to Gaige’s musky odor.”

″He prefers manly scent,” Charles corrected me.

I laughed softly. “You sound just like him.”

My cheek was resting on my hands atop a feathered pillow. Charles propped an elbow on the bed and laid his head in his hand beside me. His expression turned serious. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry I woke you.”

I considered his question. “Physically, I’m fine. The stitches are good, and everything seems to be healing okay. You?” I ran my fingertips along his night shirt, directly over the spot where he’d been stabbed.

Charles put on a brave face. “It was barely a scratch. I’ve been injured worse falling from the back of an uncooperative horse.”

His wound had definitely been more than a scratch. Scratches didn’t bleed that much, though the injury didn’t seem to be bothering him. I let him fold me in his arms and pull me closer.

″I’m nervous about tomorrow.” I whispered the admission against his well-formed chest. “Either I’m going to be extremely disappointed or….” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. Was it too much to hope Edward and his brother knew something that might give me a clue as to who I was? Did they remember Tessa? Did they know what had come of her? Would their answers finally lead me to my mother?

Charles squeezed me tighter. “Honestly, convincing them to trust us with their most closely guarded secret is going to be the worst of it. Don’t be surprised if it takes more than one meeting. Particularly since we are ambushing them.”

″Ambush is such a negative word,” I muttered. “Let’s say ‘surprise.’ We’re going to surprise them. Really just Edward. I’m sure he’ll tell his brother about us first chance he gets.”

″However you term it, he will be caught off guard. He may become defensive. What do you plan to say to him?”

I was embarrassed to admit the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I’d been so focused on finding the princes that I hadn’t considered much beyond that. This had clearly been an oversight.

″Got any suggestions?” I asked Charles.

″Maybe I could try talking to Edward first? Alone.”

I laughed a little, which made Charles frown. “Oh, wait. Are you serious? Why do you think a one-on-one would be any better? And if only one of us goes in first, it should be me. I’ve been a runner a lot longer.”

″You have,” Charles agreed in a tone that made me feel like he was trying to soothe my ego before he insulted it. “I just think that maybe in this situation, I am better suited. I can relate to Edward in ways you cannot.”

I sat up, causing Charles to do the same. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

″Only that I was adopted too.” Charles was on the defensive.

″Yeah, and I was abandoned when I was a kid. All of us have the pieces of the jewelry set.” I yanked my locket chain until the charm popped out over the top of my nightgown. “How exactly are you more suited than me to make first contact with Edward?”

Maybe I was acting a little defensive. I thought back to the conversation we’d started on the street, just before Lachlan had appeared and derailed us. Charles was withholding information from me. There would be no conveniently timed disruptions to distract me this time.

″Charles, what aren’t you telling me?”

He averted his gaze, seeming resigned more than surprised that I was demanding answers. Like he’d known this moment was coming and yet hoped it never would.

″It’s not what you think,” he tried.

My laugh sounded bitter and hollow. “How do you know what I think? I don’t know what I think. In the time since Cyrus agreed to let you stay and become a runner, I have considered hundreds of reasons as to why that might be. Spoiler alert: they are all nuts.”

Charles closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re thinking. I just know you would have to be a mind reader to guess the truth.” He looked over and reached a hand toward me, hesitating before cupping my cheek in his palm. “I promised Mr. Flamel that I would not tell anyone, particularly you, until the time comes. I am sorry, Stassi.”

This wasn’t the first time we’d had this argument. It also wasn’t the first time he’d given me this excuse.

″When will the time come?” I shot back in a low, unapologetic tone.

Charles let his hand fall and likely regretted sneaking into my bed. “Soon, I trust.” He met my gaze with pleading golden eyes. “Please don’t give up on me yet.”

Give up on him? I wasn’t that irritated. Yet. Still, maybe it was manipulative of me, but I liked that he thought this secret was becoming a sticking point in our relationship. In a way, it was true. Too much more of his vague comments and clever wording, and I might be ready to take a break from him. The sapphires on my locket caught the moonlight.

Who am I fooling? Charles and I are connected in some way. I’m not letting him go until I find out how.

″Answer one question for me?” I watched as Charles tensed but nodded. “Does the reason Cyrus let you stay have to do with Edward and Richard? Do you know something about them that you aren’t telling me? Something that might make or break this run?”

″That’s three questions,” he pointed out.

I glared at him.

″No, Stassi. The reason Cyrus and Mr. Flamel agreed to let me stay in your time and become a runner has only to do with me. If I am being honest, probably something to do with you, too. That is only a guess, however.”

I held his gaze while I tried to decipher meaning from his words. I too suspected that I was somewhat of the motivation behind Cyrus′ decision. Why? I couldn’t say. My boss didn’t care enough about my love life to agree to something so against his own code just to make me happy. No one had consulted me on the decision or asked if I wanted Charles to stay. So, it wasn’t my opinion or my feelings that Cyrus took into account. How did I factor into the equation?

″I’ll go.” Charles turned and slid off the bed.

″No,” I called before he reached the door. “Don’t go.”

The hopeful expression softened my annoyance. I still wasn’t pleased with the situation but understood that Charles was keeping a promise. I couldn’t fault him too much for that. And maybe it was selfish, but I wanted him to hold me and tell me that tomorrow would go smashingly. That Edward would provide us with all the answers we needed, and then the four of us could go the hell home.

Charles did hold me when he climbed back in bed. He didn’t lie about the meeting with Edward tying up the mystery of Tessa and jewelry with a neat bow. We both knew that wasn’t likely. He did make me feel wanted and needed, like I was something more than a disastrous, disobedient runner who’d gotten her friends in over their heads.

I sat up and slid the nightgown over my head. Charles smiled up at me from beneath long lashes.

″And here I thought that you were mad at me,” he teased, his voice husky.

″It’s called a pause button.”

Elizebeth was neither as surprised nor as scandalized as I might have imagined when she found Charles and I tangled in the sheets the next morning. She flung the curtains open to reveal a gloomy, overcast day.

″Kingsley House opens its doors at eight sharp every morning. Edward should be in his office alone for approximately one hour. That is our optimal window of time,” she announced, pulling a dress from the wardrobe and placing it over the rocking chair.

I rubbed sleep from eyes. “How do you know that?” I asked around a yawn.

″I play bridge with Eleanor McMain. She told me that Edward Fontenot arrives every morning at seven. The doors open to the public at eight. Edward reads the mail and the news in his office until nine.” Elizebeth scanned the shoe options and tapped her chin, finally selecting a simple pair of low-heeled navy shoes that matched the stripes on the dress. She started for the door, calling over her shoulder, “Breakfast will be served in thirty minutes.”

Elizebeth had already eaten with her children, but Victor, Liza, and Peggy elected to eat with us. He didn’t say much. Neither did the teenager. She was back to being the shy, broody girl we’d first met. I figured her sister had something to do with the attitude change. Liza was actually very pleasant, if not a little nosy. She spent most of breakfast asking my friends and me questions about other runs we had been on. It was an excellent distraction from the impending audience with a prince turned priest.

Victor drove us over to Kingsley House just before eight o’clock. I could only imagine this had more to do with wanting to keep as many alchemist eyes on us as possible rather than social norms. That was fine. Aside from Charles, I wasn’t sure that any of us could drive an early twentieth century vehicle.

The syndicate would’ve provided the alchemists with enough money to buy the latest and greatest 1920 had to offer. But New Orleans didn’t have the glamour, glitz, or wealth of Paris, and anything too flashy would’ve garnered unwanted attention. That was why we rode to Kingsley House in a black, hardtop 1917 Model T that looked like many other vehicles rolling around the French Quarter.

Elizebeth rode up front with Victor, leaving Charles, Gaige, Molly, and I sitting practically on top of one another in the back. Being the two smaller people in the group, Molly and I were the lucky recipients of the middle seats. There was a partition between the rows that gave us a semblance of privacy from the alchemists in the front.

I‘d given more thought to Charles’ suggestion that only one of us should talk to the prince. Admittedly, he had made a good point about the ambush thing. Nonetheless, that one person wasn’t going to be Charles. I didn’t know whether to bring up the topic or just go with plan A. Which wasn’t so much a plan as a fishing expedition.

As it turned out, someone else started the conversation.

″I think maybe just Stass and I should talk to him,” Molly began.

″What? Why?” Gaige demanded. “Because you’re girls?”

″First of all, we’re women.” Molly shot a glare to where Gaige sat beside the window next to her. “But yes. He’ll perceive us as less threatening.”

″Only because he doesn’t know you,” Gaige retorted.

″Exactly. You two might intimidate him too much. He might not say anything.” She was still glaring, but there was a twinkle in Molly’s blue eyes that made me think that the two of them used this verbal banter as foreplay. It was so not the image I wanted in my head on the way to meet a priest.

″Or we purposely intimidate him, and he might say everything,” Gaige countered.

″Are you suggesting we torture a prince of England?” I interjected, careful to keep my voice down in case Victor and Elizebeth were listening closely.

″A king of England, right?” Molly corrected me.

″Are you ever actually king if you’re never crowned?” I asked.

″He was technically Edward V for a time,” Charles chimed in from his window seat.

Molly shrugged. “Not the point. We’re not torturing anyone. Stass and I will go in alone. We’ll see how open Edward is to discussing time travel. If he doesn’t throw a crucifix at us, we’ll come get you guys.”

Gaige would have argued further, but the car came to a stop. Victor jumped down and opened the door for us.

″The boys are waiting here,” Molly informed the alchemists.

She nudged Gaige, who reluctantly slid out of the car to allow Molly and me to exit. The two of us started toward the front entrance. Elizebeth fell in step beside us, her long legs matching our strides easily.

″You can wait out here, too,” Molly said.

Elizebeth laughed liked she’d just heard a good joke. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need me. I am your only chance at getting Edward Fontenot to talk about his adoption.”

As it turned out, she wasn’t wrong.

Edward Fontenot—formerly known as Edward V, King of England—was a slender man with short, dark blond hair. He was handsome, though the collar of the priesthood around his neck suggested his appearance played no factor in his life. He stood and extended a hand to Elizebeth when we all entered his office.

″Mrs. Werlein, what a surprise? How are you, ma’am?” His accent was so faint that it was almost nonexistent. If I hadn’t known he’d spent half his life in England, I might have just thought he sounded stuffy.

″I am very well, thank you,” Elizebeth replied demurely. She gestured with one gloved hand to Molly and then me. “These two young women are visiting our city. I told them about the work you do here at Kingsley House, and they were interested in speaking with you.”

And this is why runners spend so much time making plans with historians, I thought as Elizebeth recited lies that we hadn’t rehearsed. I wasn’t that great on the spot. When Edward turned and introduce himself to me, I panicked.

″Edward Fontenot,” he said.

″Um….” Say something. Anything. Just make up a name. “Stassi Prince.” I’d used a lot of different identities during my time as a runner, but the Anastasia Prince legend was the one I used when I met Charles. It was also the one closest to my real name, making it a lot easier to remember than some of the other doozies I’d used.

″Nice to meet you, Ms. Prince,” Edward said cordially.

″Molly Draper,” my roommate said, using her real name. It was unusual enough on a run that my eyes widened in surprise. If our first names were suitable for the time period, we did sometimes use them. But never our full names. Then again, we didn’t usually tell people we were time travelers on a retrieval mission. There was nothing customary about our business in New Orleans.

″Please, have a seat.” Edward gestured to the two chairs opposite his desk.

Elizebeth elected to stand, insisting Molly and I take the seats.

Edward folded his hands on his desk. “How may I be of service?”

Molly and I exchanged glances. Yep, this is why runners make plans, I thought.

″Kingsley House does great work in the community. The outreach programs have helped many who fled to America with no money and no understanding of the language and customs,” Elizebeth prompted.

″Right. Um, that’s something I’m very interested in,” I said lamely.

″As am I. Everyone needs a safe place to grow and learn,” Edward replied. “That is our mission at Kingsley House. To help the less fortunate citizens of New Orleans.”

″You seem very passionate about your work,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. The prince clearly believed in his mission. That was obvious from the way he spoke.

″I am,” Edward agreed with a smile. “I was adopted when I was twelve. My birth parents were not around much even before their deaths, leaving my education to my uncle and others. I was quite fortunate that they were learned men. I only hope I can do the same for others. Many that come through our doors are young children orphaned by the Great War and the pandemic.”

The prince was a practiced liar. Much like runners, he was good at twisting facts and omitting details of his real life so that technically everything he said was true. His birth parents probably hadn’t been around much when he was young. That was normal for royal princes in the fifteenth century. And from the little I knew about his parents off the top of my head, Edward IV was busy fighting in the War of the Roses since before the man in front of me was born.

″No one should ever have to live in fear of the future or his life,” Edward continued. “I would be happy to take you on a tour, if you like?”

Now or never. You have his defenses down, go for it.

I took a deep breath and caught Molly’s subtle head nod out of the corner of my eye. “Actually, Mr. Fontenot—Edward, may I call you Edward?” I stammered.

He smiled. “You may.” The prince gestured for me to continue.

″We’re here about those birth parents you mentioned.”

His expression turned cold. “My birth parents are dead.”

″I know,” I agreed. “They died quite some time ago, right?”

″They died in 1907,” Edward said crisply, a lie he’d clearly been reciting for years.

And that was where the situation got sticky. Elizebeth didn’t know exactly who Edward really was. That was a big part of the story we’d left out. The alchemist was cool with bending a lot of rules, yet I wasn’t sure how she’d react to learning that a runner had moved children over four hundred years in the future. That was a huge no-no; the fallout should’ve been catastrophic. The fact time hadn’t collapsed on itself was a miracle. I wouldn’t blame Elizebeth for running straight to Cyrus about the relocated princes once she learned the truth.

My roommate must have decided it was worth the risk. She looked Edward square in the eye. “I thought Edward IV died in 1483?”

The prince’s eyes went wide, and Elizebeth gasped.

″And I am sure you know your mother died in 1492, even though you and your brother were gone by then?” Molly continued in a calm, even tone.

Since we were going all in, I added, “We met your…,” I turned to Molly, “cousin? Would you say Jane is his cousin?”

Molly’s blue eyes stayed focused on Edward. “I think. Maybe his niece? With some number and how many times removed in there. I don’t really understand how that works.”

Edward stood. “I do not know what you ladies are on about, but I must ask you to leave.” His faint British accent became more pronounced.

″Edward, please,” Elizebeth began.

He held up a hand. “I will not entertain any more of this nonsense.”

Edward sounded very much like a king in that moment.

″We aren’t here to take you back or anything like that,” I tried.

″Please leave. Otherwise I will be forced to call the authorities,” Edward demanded, jabbing a finger toward the door.

Charles was right. This is a disaster.

″I just want to know about the woman who arranged your adoption. Was her name Tessa?” I pressed.

Edward lifted the phone receiver. Elizebeth put a hand on my shoulder. “We should leave, Stassi.”

I stood and shrugged her off. My locket was around my neck, and I pointed to the pendant. “You have cufflinks that match this, don’t you? There’s a five-leaf clover symbol somewhere on the gold.”

Edward’s eyes never left me as he spoke into the receiver. “Yes, I need to be connected to the police. I want to report a hysterical female.”

″Okay.” Molly grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door. “No need to have anyone committed.”

Elizebeth took my other arm. “Maybe we’ll have better luck with Richard,” she said quietly. “We just need to find him before Edward warns him that we’re coming. First and foremost, you lot are going to tell me everything, starting with who these two boys really are.”

Victor was leaning against the car smoking a hand-rolled cigarette when we exited Kingsley House. One look at our collective faces, and he tossed the tobacco and hopped in the driver’s seat. Charles and Gaige thrust the back doors open and scooted to the middle of the seat to make room for Molly and me.

″Drive quickly,” Elizebeth ordered as she joined Victor in the front.

I leaned back as Victor pumped the gas, and the car began bumping along over the cobblestones. Charles didn’t gloat, though he had every right to. Gaige wasn’t so sympathetic to my mood.

″We should’ve gone the torture and intimidation route, huh?”