A faint smile appeared despite her tension. “You have absolutely no idea.”
The smile faded quickly afterward.
“But,” she said quietly, “it’s becoming harder to think of this place as temporary.”
Something tightened unexpectedly in my chest.
Dangerous.
Everything involving Harper eventually circled back toward danger. Not because she was malicious. Because she mattered increasingly more than she should.
Father William cleared his throat softly near the doorway. “I would prefer,” the priest announced, “if no one attempted to unravel the fabric of creation before supper.”
Harper huffed a startled laugh.
I looked at her then. Properly looked. Candlelight caught against the warm russet wool of her gown. Against the loose strands of dark hair escaping her veil. Against the expression she wore whenever she forgot for brief moments to be afraid.
Extraordinary, I thought suddenly. Not the manuscript.
Her.
The realization unsettled me more than the glowing psalter ever could have. Because miracles were dangerous things.
And I was beginning to suspect Harper Ainsley might be the most dangerous thing currently inside Thames Castle.
Eight
HARPER
Aldwin triedto use the psalter. I found out because Father William came to find me at first light, moving with the speed of a man who had discovered something alarming and had to tell someone else.
I was still pulling my veil into place when he said, “Aldwin is in the chapel.”
By the look on his face, I knew immediately what was happening.
The chapel was cold and pale in the early light. Aldwin stood in front of the psalter’s lectern with his hands pressed flat against the manuscript, his eyes closed, his entire body rigid with concentration.
Thankfully, the psalter wasn’t glowing when Father William and I stopped in the doorway. Afraid to get too close, we simply watched for a long moment.
Aldwin’s shoulders dropped. He opened his eyes and looked at the manuscript with an expression I had never seen on his face before.
Unguarded grief. Then he turned and saw me.
I’d expected anger. Or the defensive hostility he deployed when caught doing something he knew was wrong. Instead he just looked tired.
“It didn’t work,” he said.
“No.” I came into the chapel. Father William remained in the doorway. “What did you intend?”
“Fifteen years back.” Aldwin turned to look at the psalter again. “I stood here for an hour. I thought about it. The specific time. The specific moment. I thought about what I’d tell my father. Which alliances to pursue. Which to avoid. Everything I’d do differently.”
His shoulders slumped. “Nothing happened.”
“Aldwin.” I came to stand beside him. “I told you?—”
“I know what you told me.” His voice was flat. “I wasn’t ready to believe it. I thought perhaps I simply wasn’t trying correctly. That if I concentrated on the specific destination?—”
“The psalter isn’t a navigation tool,” I said gently. “I told you that.”