Chapter 7 THE RIPPLE
BEAU
I sat on the high stool in the corner of the small workshop, staring down at the silver pocket watch resting on the wooden desk.
Beside it sat the small iron gate latch from Barnaby Pimm, but I had not even touched it. My mind was spinning far too fast.
The brass gear punch rested right next to my elbow, its distinct triple notch handle glinting in the morning light filtering through the small glass window.
Footsteps sounded from the back of the cottage.
A moment later, Evan walked into the workshop. He had finally finished in the washroom. He was wearing the rough woolen trousers and loose linen shirt Mama Wells had given him. The sleeves were a little too short for his long arms, and the shoulders looked tight against his broad frame.
I leaned back against the workbench, crossing my arms over my yellow dress. "It took you a full hour to wash off."
Evan stopped near the table, his gold eyes glaring at me. He pulled at the high collar of the shirt with one finger, his jaw set in a firm line.
"The washroom is a miserable wooden box," he grumbled, his voice dripping with annoyance. "The water was barely tepid, the soap smelled like tallow, and this wool is scratching my skin to pieces."
I let out a soft scoff. "Not everyone has a private marble bathhouse with servants to pour hot scented oil over their toes, My Lord. You should be grateful Mama Wells gave you a roof and dry clothes, or we would still be roaming around in the muddy road. Swallow that pride of yours for five minutes, will you?"
Evan rolled his shoulders, ignoring my comment as he stepped closer to the bench. He looked down at the dark metal casing of the pocket watch.
"Have you figured out how to send us back yet?" he asked, his voice dropping into a serious, demanding tone. "I cannot live in these conditions, Miss Wells. I have an estate to run and duties that require my presence. We need to leave."
I glanced over my shoulder toward the open doorway leading to the main house, making sure Mama Wells was nowhere nearby. I leaned in close, keeping my voice down to a low whisper.
"No, I have not figured out how to fix the core yet," I whispered. "However, I found a clue."
Evan raised one dark eyebrow, his mouth curving into a sarcastic line. "Great. A clue. That will certainly keep us warm at night."
"Shut up and look at this," I cut in, picking up the brass gear punch from the table and thrusting it toward his chest.
Evan frowned, taking the tool from my hand and turning it over in his long fingers. "It is a gear punch. What about it?"
"Look at the handle," I said, pointing to the triple notch carved into the brass. "I know this exact tool. Back home in our own time, Mama Wells told me the story of how she bought it from an eccentric traveling merchant in the village market. She specifically told me she bought it ten years from now."
Evan went completely still. His gold eyes moved from the brass handle up to my face. "Ten years from now?"
"Yes," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "She does not own it yet. It is physically impossible for it to be sitting on her workbench today."
Evan stared at the metal tool, his brow pulling into a deep furrow. "If she has not bought it yet, then why is it here?"
"Because we are here," I said, leaning forward until my face was inches from his.
We looked at each other, the terrifying truth settling between us in the quiet room.
"The timeline is changing," we said in unison.
"Our presence is leaking into the past," I said, my blood running cold. "The timeline is shifting around us to match things from our future."
Evan's grip tightened around the brass punch until his knuckles turned pale. "If the past is shifting now, what is happening to our own time thirty years from now? What is happening to my estate? My people?"
"I do not know," I admitted, my chest tightening. "Which means we have to figure out this watch and get back before—"
EVAN
Firm footsteps sounded on the stone path outside the workshop door.
Miss Wells gasped, her blue eyes going wide with panic. She jerked backward so fast her elbow hit the edge of the desk, knocking the silver pocket watch flat onto the wood with a loud clatter.
"Careful!" I hissed under my breath.
The rag sat over the watch just in time as the doorway darkened.
Mama Wells stepped into the workshop, smiling broadly. Standing right beside her was a younger woman with bright green eyes and brown hair tied back with a blue ribbon. She carried a woven basket covered with a clean cloth, the sweet smell of hot bread and fresh jam filling the small room.
"Hello there, how is it going with the tinkering, Isabeau?" Mama Wells asked warmly, stepping inside. She turned to her companion. "Elara, meet Mr. and Mrs. Frizzlewitz. They are staying in the cottage."
"Good morning," Elara said, offering a wide, friendly smile. "Mama Wells told me she had guests staying on the property."
Isabeau smoothed down her yellow skirt with trembling hands, her voice sounding entirely too high pitched. "Good morning! Yes, we were just looking at the tools. The ordinary tools."
I stepped forward smoothly, placing myself between the women and the workbench. I bowed my head with practiced nobility.
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bell," I said, keeping my voice smooth and agreeable. "My wife and I are deeply grateful for your kindness."
Elara's eyes brightened as she looked between the two of us, taking in my arm reaching out to casually encircle Isabeau's waist.
Isabeau went rigid as a wooden board the second my hand settled against the curve of her hip through her yellow dress. I pulled her flush against my side, squeezing slightly to keep her from squirming away.
"Oh, you two are newlyweds, aren't you?" Elara cooed, setting her basket on the edge of a small wooden crate. "Mama Wells told me you were traveling. How long do you plan to stay in Brindlewick?"
"Not long," I said flatly, the truth slipping out before I could stop it.
Isabeau let out a loud, awkward laugh, digging her elbow into my side. I tightened my grip on her waist, holding her firm.
"What my husband means to say," Isabeau corrected quickly, smiling through her teeth at Elara, "is that we would have loved to stay much longer, but chances are we will not be here for very long."
"Oh, what a shame," Elara sighed, pressing her hands together. "I was hoping you would stay at least until the Moonwake Festival in three weeks! It is the grandest night of the whole year in the village."
Mama Wells nodded in agreement, a gentle smile lighting up her face. "Oh, it would be lovely if you both stayed for the Moonwake Festival. It is always a beautiful sight. Singles find love, and lovers fall in love all over again. They say the air itself is soaked in ancient love magic on that night."
Isabeau and I looked at each other.
"No, thank you," we said in complete unison, our voices flat and resolute.
Mama Wells and Elara both blinked, pausing to stare at us in surprise.
I quickly forced a bright, charming smile onto my face, turning my head to look down at Isabeau. I tightened my arm around her waist, gazing into her blue eyes with mock devotion.
"What we mean, of course," I said smoothly, letting my voice drop into a honeyed purr, "is that we have quite enough love already. Isn't that right, my plump apple?"
Isabeau stiffened completely. Her face flared bright red, her mouth dropping open at my brazenness before she dug her fingernails directly into the flesh of my waist through my linen shirt, forcing her lips into a wide, sugary smile.
"Yes, we certainly do," she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she pressed herself closer to my side. "Isn't he just precious... my cuddle bear?"
My jaw locked instantly. Cuddle bear.
I nearly choked on my own tongue, my gold eyes glaring down at her while Elara let out a loud, delighted gasp, resting her hands over her heart.
"Oh, stop it, you two are making my heart melt!" Elara squealed softly. "I only hope I can find a love like yours one day."
"You will find it soon enough, dear," Mama Wells chuckled fondly, patting Elara's arm. "Come along, let us leave these two newlyweds to their morning. I will walk you down the path."
Mama Wells turned and led the baker out of the workshop.
The very second their footsteps faded down the dirt path outside, the fake smile wiped completely from Isabeau's face. She shoved her hands against my chest with all her strength, pushing herself away from me.
"Cuddle bear?" I growled, straightening my linen shirt where her nails had practically punctured my skin. "You called a Dragon Lord a cuddle bear?"
"You called me a plump apple!" she shouted back, her cheeks burning red. "In front of my own grandmother!"
"Because you are full in all the right places!" I shot back, stepping toward her. "It was a compliment, you stubborn girl!"
Her mouth opened in utter shock, a rosy flush blooming across her neck before she turned away, spluttering wordlessly.
I turned away from her, my frustration boiling over as I looked back down at the desk. The dirty rag sat over the pocket watch.
The timeline was shifting. Future tools were appearing in the past. We had less than no time, and sitting here trading insults while waiting for delicate iron picks was going to get us trapped thirty years in the past forever.
"Move," I said, stepping past her toward the desk.
"What are you doing?" Isabeau asked, her voice turning cautious as she followed me.
I pulled the dirty rag off the silver casing. "We do not have time to sit around playing house while reality falls apart. Your tools are too slow. I am going to jumpstart the core myself."
Isabeau's eyes went wide with pure horror. She reached out to grab my arm. "Evan, no! Do not touch it with raw magic! Extreme magic was what caused us to be here in the first place."
"No," I snapped, brushing her hand away. "It was all your fault. Now move away."
I placed my right hand flat over the cold metal casing.
I summoned the fire in my veins.
A surge of gold dragon magic rushed down my arm, slamming directly into the center of the pocket watch.
For half a second, the dark metal hummed.
Then, the watch fought back.
A violent wave of dark purple heat exploded backward out of the casing. It hit my palm like an iron hammer, blasting through my arm and slamming straight into my chest.
The air was knocked right out of my lungs. A sound like cracking glass echoed in my ears as my dragon core backfired violently, the displaced time magic tearing through my veins like boiling oil.
"Evan!" Isabeau screamed.
My legs buckled beneath me. The walls of the workshop spun out of control, blurring into dark shadows. I stumbled backward, hitting the wooden wall with a dull thud, my hands clutching blindly at my chest where a scorching heat was spreading rapidly under my skin.
I gasped for air, but my lungs felt like they were filled with smoke. My skin went from freezing cold to burning hot in three seconds flat.
Through the haze of my failing vision, I saw Isabeau drop to her knees beside me, her hands reaching out to catch my shoulders as my knees hit the floorboards.
Her touch was cool against my burning skin, but everything else went completely dark.
