A Tale of Two Centuries (2 page)

Chapter Two

“Reyna.”

The whispered name passes my lips as recognition slams into me. I shake my head, unable to comprehend what my eyes are seeing. For months after Cat’s return to the future, I imagined the young gypsy appearing before me. I held tight to the belief that one day she would come back, perchance with a message or sign from the future. A clue as to how my fun-loving cousin is doing or, selfishly, to grant me a magical adventure of my own. And now she is here. Standing a mere foot away, no longer in the drab servant frock she wore during her stay but looking just as she did that brief moment I last saw her, when Cat followed her into a mysterious green tent and disappeared from my life.

Reyna’s magnetic gaze twinkles as she takes a step back and waves her arm in the air, sending the dozen bracelets wrapped around her slender wrist clanking in unison. Poised like one of Michelangelo’s statues, she hitches a pointed sable brow heavenward as if waiting for a response to an unasked question. Confused, I shift my gaze beyond her…and my breath seizes.

There stands that same green tent—the portal that sent Cat home.

I jerk my gaze back to my cousin’s gypsy girl
,
a wild stirring of hope building in my veins. She nods, and her feigned smile turns devious. Then she disappears inside and crooks a finger through the open flap for me to follow.

My previously halted breath escapes in an audible
whoosh
.

All of the servants are upstairs. Mama is traveling as companion to Patience on her journey to London, and Father is returning from visiting my uncle in Venice. My brother Cipriano, the one person who could truly dissuade me from such a course, is in Milan, having left a few short months after my cousin. There is no one here to stop me. I am depressingly alone, even more so now than this morning.

The chance to be as audacious as my fearless cousin, even if it is just for a moment, propels me forward. I fly across the cracked stone ground, throw back the folds, and boldly enter the darkened space.

But once the canvas doors seal closed behind me, apprehension dawns. Darkness is everywhere.

I lift my palm an inch from my nose and cannot see it. The only thing I
can
see is a curved path of sporadic candlelight, seemingly with no end. The reassuring fountain from the courtyard no longer bubbles, and the harsh sound of my labored breathing escalates to fill the void.

A word my cousin taught me from the future springs to mind:
creeptastic.

Taking a trembling step, I tentatively call out, “Reyna?”

I squint, then widen my eyes, lean forward then back away, hoping to see the space before me better. But my efforts do nothing to illuminate my surroundings. Or to comfort me. I take another step, and a cool hand closes around my wrist.

“Ahh!”

“Chavaia
.” The low, rough hiss in my ear sends my already galloping heart into my throat. “First you must remove your slippers.”

My slippers?
Pressing a palm against my chest, I glance down at my feet.

It is not right for a lady to walk barefoot—a suitor could see her ankles. Since Reyna masqueraded as a servant in my home during Cat’s stay, she would know the rules of propriety, but a glance at her shadowed yet stern expression confirms she does not care.

I yank my bottom lip between my teeth and gnaw like a rabbit. My head rocks back and forth, the vexing tug of war beginning again between what I
want
to do and what I know I
should
do.

No gentlemen are present
, I tell myself, even as a voice sounding suspiciously like Mama’s whispers,
A lady must always follow society’s expectations.

But Reyna and I are alone. No one would ever have to know.

I stare at my slippers again, and a new, more daring voice joins the festivities in my crowded head.
Just think of it as a simple experiment, Less.

And that decides it.

Smiling, I lift my chin in the air the way I imagine my cousin would, kick off my slippers, and wiggle my toes on the cool, gritty stone. The sensation is scandalously splendid. And
deliciously
wicked. I wiggle them again and giggle.

Reyna’s snort of amusement snaps me back, reminding me where I am. She bends to place my slippers on the bottom shelf of an elaborate wooden structure, dusts her hands twice, then gives a curt nod. “Come.”

With that, she tromps ahead. I tiptoe in her wake, my wide eyes growing accustomed to the flickering candlelight. On either side of the dotted aisle are never-ending shelves, one side boasting jeweled mysterious objects and the other unlit candles, pottery jars, and numerous labeled vials. It reminds me of an apothecary, though I doubt Reyna traveled five hundred years in time to prepare a remedy for my occasional head pains.

Smoke curls from a jar beside me, and the earthy scent of pine floods my senses. We stop at a small table covered with a black silk sheath, lit by the glimmer of a large sapphire candle. Reyna takes a seat and patiently waits for me to do the same.

Swallowing past the pebble lodged in my throat, I realize I have no idea what will happen next, whether it be good or evil, safe or treacherous. But I cannot continue as things are, always wishing for more. Maybe at the end of this journey, blessed peace awaits. And as for fearing Reyna herself…well, the joy on Cat’s face when she stepped inside this very alcove to return home was unmistakable. Cat trusted her gypsy girl
.
So shall I.

Reyna tilts her head to study me. “You clearly crave adventure, Alessandra. But I have to wonder if you are brave enough to grasp it.”

I wince, both at the raspy edge to her voice and the woefully accurate assessment. She is right; Cat did not inherit her fearlessness from me. Bravery is a virtue I have never quite grasped, though it has not stopped me from wishing it were otherwise.

Perhaps this will change that.

Though I do not know if Reyna is here to send me on an adventure or is simply asking me a question, in this moment, I
choose
to be brave. Or, at least to pretend to be. Steeling my spine and stiffening my shoulders, I jut my chin forward and confidently proclaim, “Y-yes.”

Or perhaps not.

Frustrated with my telltale stammer, I close my eyes. For all my desire to become a stage actress, that performance was severely lacking. I count to three, will my betraying voice to strengthen, and try again. “I mean to say, yes, I am.” I meet her eyes as brazenly as I can. “I am no longer the timid girl you once knew.” Palms glazed with perspiration clench at my sides and I strain to keep my expression neutral.

After a moment, Reyna’s mouth twitches into a shadowy semblance of a smile.

“Misto,”
she says, and though I cannot comprehend the foreign word, I sag in blessed relief.

The table wobbles when she stands, and as I watch Reyna’s bare feet glide to the wall of shelves, the glint of a golden band around her toe catches my eye. Mesmerized, I find myself wondering why anyone would adorn a part of the body hidden from the world.

“I am sure you are wondering why I am here,” she says as my mind wanders, envisioning the scandal I would cause walking slipperless within the public square. “I admit my visit surprised me, too. After Caterina and I returned, I thought my purpose was over. But not twenty-four hours later, the goddess Isis gifted me with another vision.”

At that, my guilty smile withers, and icy fingers of foreboding jerk me to attention.

As Cat would say, her implausible time travel
rocked my world
. I have always believed in the divine and trusted in forces like fortune, fate, and
destino.
Since I was a little girl, I have faithfully attended daily morning mass and evening vespers, I rarely travel on Saturdays, and I never leave home without my talisman. Yet when my cousin returned to the twenty-first century, my belief in a benevolent power was shattered.

How could anything that taunted me with ideas and freedoms I could never hope to experience possibly be
good
?

Unaware of my emotional upheaval, Reyna says, “At first I did not understand it. The second vision differed so much from the first. But after consulting with my
puridaia
”
—
she glances over her shoulder
—
“my grandmother, I was at last able to decipher the prophecy.”

A prophecy.

Strange how such a simple word could send pinpricks of fear over my entire body. Wringing my hands, I watch Reyna dig through her sundry of items and wait for her to continue. When Reyna finally turns, she waves a golden object in triumph. “Ah-ha!” She palms a candle, then lowers her chin. “My vision, Alessandra, was of
you
.”

The tent spins. Or perchance that is my head. A peculiar squirming wriggles in my belly—from fear or excitement, I do not know. The singular thought my fuzzy brain contains is a repeat of her words:
of you, of you, of you.

Reyna strides back to the table with a smirk, the shiny object and a small white candle in hand. She sets them down with a
clank
and a
plop
, and then gives me a wink. She lights the wick.

The unexpected, and quite enormous, blaze knocks me backward.

Rebounding in my chair, I watch in rapt horror the glow double, then triple in size. The core of the flame flashes blue, then green, then shocking vivid purple.

“Th-that is not possible,” I whisper.

Reyna does not argue. Instead, she chants.
“Tatum, tatum, tatum vel.”
Her eyes reduce to slits of liquid mercury. “Sit,” she commands in a low, steely voice. When I do nothing but stare dumbly at the unworldly flame, she says, “You asked for this, Alessandra.”

At the reminder of my claimed bravery, I clamp my molars together and stuff the urge to take back my foolish declaration. For two years, I have cried out for adventure, for change. For release from the turmoil my cousin left in her wake and the knowledge there could be more in life than simply marrying well and being a submissive daughter.

Skittish limbs notwithstanding, I do want this.

“Is Cat content now?” I ask.

If my question surprises her, Reyna does not show it. She nods thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe she is. Caterina’s destiny took her on an adventure that answered many questions. It did not solve them all, for only she can do that. But if you were to see her again and ask, I trust she would say the trip was worth every
hiccup
she encountered.”

A laugh bubbles from within at the amusement in Reyna’s eyes. The memory of Cat’s many missteps plays before me much like the magical box of
movies
she brought in her satchel, and I recall her horrendous performance at a society dinner, her continual use of strange vocabulary, and the passionate way she did just about everything

With a brusque nod, I return to my chair. “I am ready.”

“Khushti.”
Reyna does not waste a moment. She draws a steady breath and closes her eyes, rolling her head in a slow, controlled circle. Without lifting her lids, she says in a low whisper, “Close your eyes, Alessandra.”

Bunching the fabric of my surcoat in my damp hand, I comply. Instantly, sounds grow sharper. I hear a ringing, followed by a metallic rattle. When Reyna speaks again, her voice is louder. “In your mind’s eye, I want you to visualize the happiness you called upon the stars to seek, whatever it is your heart most desires.”

In my mind, Matteo bows before me, as he did so many times, clasping my hand and flashing his enticing smile. I had been convinced we were happy, that he would be my salvation. I was foolish, and that realization hurts worse than his betrayal. The pieces of my heart splinter a little more.

The memory blessedly fades, but in its place springs a surprising one of the afternoon performance in the countryside. Why that memory chooses to taunt me for the second time today I am not certain, for it will do me no good. The joy and release of our fairy-tale play may be what my heart desires, but it is not my destiny. It is not written in the stars for a girl like me, born in this time.

Even so, I watch the vision play out before me, and the sense of longing that overwhelmed me in the piazza consumes me anew.

“Good,” Reyna says, as though she, too, can see my thoughts. “Hold tight to that vision, Alessandra. Do not let it go. But now imagine a locked door materializing in front of you, keeping you from the vision. From the happiness you deserve.”

At her words, a heavy wooden door appears and slams shut. The faint sound of Cat’s laughter seeps through the crack underneath. Though I know it is just a vision, pain lashes inside my chest, and sweat trickles down my back.

I have to open that door.

An eerie breeze suddenly sweeps through the interior of the tent, reminding me of the squall from the courtyard. My auburn hair flies back and my eyes fly open. Reyna latches onto my wrists.

“Stare into the flame, Alessandra,” she orders. Her voice is deeper than I have ever heard it before, as though it is coming through the
earbuds
Cat kept in her satchel with the singing box. “Concentrate. Look into the flame!”

The wind picks up, whipping the sheath on the table and the sides of the tent, whistling around us and competing with her booming commands.

“Do you see the locked door?” she yells, and I nod fiercely, blinking against the sting of my long hair lashing my eyes. The vision dances within the glowing flame. “Now, in your mind, walk toward it…unlock it…and step through it!”

The scene unfolds exactly as she describes. Within the vivid purple core, I watch my palms press against the smooth wood and push open the heavy door. But on the other side, I no longer see Cat, Cipriano, or Lorenzo. I only see myself.

“Pour your passion into the vision!” Reyna’s voice grows louder with each word spoken. And though I want to ask why the vision changed, I do not speak. Whether from fear I messed up the spell or needing to see the vision play out, I bite my tongue and throw open my heart, letting myself feel all the emotions I have kept locked inside for so long.