Chapter 6 MAMA WELLS

BEAU

I woke up to a sensation that made no sense.

My feet were usually cold in the morning, but right now, my toes were buried in something thick and warm. A large weight rested across the middle of the mattress, radiating heat through the thin blanket.

I blinked my eyes open into the gray light of dawn.

Evan was lying right beside me.

He was stretched out on his side, taking up more than half of the narrow wooden bed. His long legs were curled up to fit the frame, and his broad back was pressed directly against my hip. He was still wearing his loose linen shirt, his dark hair messy and sticking out in every direction.

I froze, my chest locking up. He had spent the entire night on the floorboards. I distinctly remembered watching him lie down on his ruined coat with his arms crossed like a stubborn child.

Yet here he was, sound asleep on my bed, stealing all the warmth.

"What do you think you are doing?" I whispered loudly, shoving his shoulder with my hand.

Evan did not even open his eyes. He merely let out a low groan, reaching out blindly to grab the edge of the blanket and yank it further over his shoulders.

"Go away," he mumbled, his voice deep and thick with sleep. "The floor is made of solid ice."

"It is my bed!" I hissed, putting both hands against his back and pushing with all my strength. "You agreed to sleep on the floor! Get off!"

My shove barely moved him an inch. Instead, Evan rolled over onto his back, opening one heavy gold eye to glare at me.

"I am a Dragon Lord," he grumbled, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "I do not freeze to death on floorboards for the sake of your pride. Move over."

"I will not move over!" I snapped, swinging my leg over to kick at him.

Evan reacted instantly. He reached up, grabbed my ankle in one swift motion, and yanked. My leg slipped out from under me, and I lost my balance completely. I let out a small squeak as I fell forward, landing flat on my stomach right across his chest.

For two terrifying seconds, neither of us moved.

My face was buried right against the curve of his neck. His skin was warm, smelling faintly of clean linen and fresh air. I could feel the steady beat of his heart right against my cheek.

Evan stiffened beneath me. His gold eyes went wide as he stared straight up at the ceiling, his breathing catching in his throat. His hand was still resting on my waist where he had tried to catch me, his long fingers pressing through the yellow wool of my dress.

"Get off me, Miss Wells," he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

"You pulled me down!" I whispered fiercely, pushing my hands against his collarbones to push myself up.

"Because you were kicking me!" he shot back, his hands moving to grab my wrists to stop me from shoving him again.

We wrestled on the narrow mattress, a chaotic mess of tangled limbs, rustling blankets, and harsh whispers. I tried to pull my wrists free, but his grip was strong. I leaned all my weight forward, trying to pin his arms down, which only brought my face inches from his.

His gold eyes flashed in the dim light. His mouth was set in a firm line, his chest rising and falling quickly against mine.

"Yield, you stubborn girl," he growled under his breath.

"Never," I spat back.

A loud, sudden knock echoed against the thin wooden opening.

"Isabeau? Evan?" Mama Wells called out warmly from the other side. "Breakfast is on the table, children! Come get it while it is hot!"

We both froze instantly.

Evan was lying flat on his back, his hands gripping my wrists, while I was practically hovering over his chest with my hair falling all over his face.

"We... we will be right there, Mama Wells!" I shouted back, my voice squeaking slightly on the last word.

"Take your time, dear," Mama Wells replied with a knowing chuckle that made my face burn. "I know how mornings go for newlyweds."

Her footsteps faded away as she walked back toward the main house.

I looked down at Evan. He looked up at me. The smirk was completely gone from his face, replaced by a deep flush rising up his throat.

"Let go of my wrists," I demanded, keeping my voice as low as possible.

Evan released me immediately, pulling his hands back. I scrambled off the bed, smoothing down the yellow dress with shaking hands, while he sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair and staring at the wall.

"We need to go," I said, not daring to look at his face. "Before she comes back."

Ten minutes later, we walked into the warm kitchen of the main house. The smell of toasted oats, fresh bread, and melted butter filled the room.

Mama Wells was standing near the stone hearth, pouring hot water into two ceramic mugs. She looked up as we entered, her eyes darting between my flushed cheeks and Evan's messy hair. A wide, satisfied grin spread across her face.

"Good morning, you two," she said, setting two heavy bowls of porridge on the long wooden table. "Did you sleep well?"

"Exceedingly well, thank you," Evan lied smoothly, pulling out a wooden chair and sitting down with grace. "The accommodations were adequate."

I stomped on his foot under the table.

Evan winced, his jaw tightening as he reached for a wooden spoon. He looked down at the simple bowl of porridge with a strange expression. He picked up the spoon, holding it like it was a dangerous weapon, before taking a small bite.

I watched him closely, waiting for him to complain about commoner food. But he was clearly starving. His eyes widened slightly at the taste of hot honey and oats, and he quickly took a second, larger bite.

"This is surprisingly good," he admitted quietly, keeping his head down.

Mama Wells laughed, wiping her hands on her apron. She sat down across from us, pouring herself a cup of tea. "So, Isabeau. Do you happen to carry any tools with you? I know how traveling goes, and things always get jarred loose on the road."

I blinked, seizing the opportunity. "Oh. Actually, yes. My traveling music box took a bad bump in the rain yesterday, and I need a few small tools to adjust the internal gears."

Mama Wells smiled warmly. "Well, how wonderful. You are more than welcome to use whatever is in my workshop. And while you are at it, I have a small favor to ask. Barnaby Pimm, the grumpy pixie down the road, has been on me constantly about his front gate latch, but I simply have not had the time to fix it."

"Barnaby Pimm," I repeated, the strange name rolling off my tongue.

Evan let out a scoff from beside me. "That is a ridiculous name."

"It is quite fitting when you meet him, dear," Mama Wells chuckled. "If you are willing, Isabeau, I can grab the broken gate piece from my stash and bring it right over to the workshop for you to look at."

"I shall help you then, Mama Wells," I agreed, offering a small smile. "As soon as I get cleaned up."

"You should check the little washroom at the back of the cottage," Mama Wells added, gesturing toward our small building. "I had it built on just behind the single room."

Evan immediately got up from his chair, his expression deadpan. "I will do that. I need to wash off."

Mama Wells smiled warmly. "Very well then, Mr. Frizzlewitz."

Evan froze for a fraction of a second before nodding stiffly and walking toward the exit.

I excused myself a moment later, hurrying back to our small building to slip into the workshop area before Evan could take over the washroom.

The small building was quiet. Thirty years in the future, this exact spot would be the Mended Moon shop, complete with the leaking spots I had named Gertrude, Margaret, and Susan. But right now, it was just Mama Wells's cozy little workshop, paired with the single rustic room and the tiny washroom at the back where she had taken us in.

I walked over to the wooden work desk in the corner. Mama Wells had left a small box of spare parts open on the bench.

I reached inside to grab a small brass lever to use on the pocket watch, but my fingers brushed against something hard and metallic. I pulled it out into the light.

It was a large brass gear punch with a distinct triple notch handle.

My breath caught in my throat.

I stared at the tool, my mind racing. I knew this exact tool intimately. Back in my own time, Mama Wells had told me the story of how she bought it from an eccentric traveling merchant in the market, specifically noting that she had purchased it ten years from now.

She did not own it yet. It was physically impossible for it to be sitting on her workbench today.

Footsteps approached from the doorway.

Panic surged through me. Without thinking, I shoved the gear punch deep into my skirt pocket and slapped a wide, careful smile onto my face just as Mama Wells walked into the room carrying a small iron gate latch on a wooden tray.

"I brought the piece right over," Mama Wells said, setting the tray down on the corner of the desk. "You can tinker with this right here whenever you have a free moment."

"Thank you, Mama Wells," I said, my voice sounding far too high pitched as I smoothed down my skirt over my hidden pocket.

She gave a warm nod and walked out to tend to her garden.

I let out a long breath, making a frantic mental note to inform Lord Evaniel Draycott, no matter how much I wanted to call him a circus clown, that the timeline was cracking wide open right beneath our feet.