Passenger (Passenger #1) - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,168

like she was caught in a wrinkle—anything you heard, or felt, or saw, was time reaching out to orphan her when the new timeline took effect. Only a traveler can affect that kind of change—these guardians, the Thorns, they were travelers, weren’t they?”

He nodded. If they’d truly followed Sophia as she had followed Etta and Nicholas, then they would have had to be.

“Their presence here instigated the change, then,” Rose said. “They must not have been part of the original event—the version of the timeline in which the astrolabe was destroyed.”

“Why didn’t it shift immediately when the others took it?” he asked.

“Because there was still a chance that it could be destroyed, and time would have corrected itself the best it could to smooth over the snag on the timeline that their presence caused,” Rose explained.

Unless Sophia had planned to go with the men to destroy the astrolabe, or there was a chance it might be damaged or lost on their ride back to Damascus, Nicholas couldn’t see how this was possible.

“If the traveler who warned me is correct, the alteration to the timeline will be catastrophic,” Rose said. “We must prepare ourselves for that.”

“What does all of this mean for Etta?”

“She’s been flung to the last common event before the timeline shifted, whenever that may be.”

“Why were you not affected? Why wasn’t I?”

“Because both of us were born before whatever this last common year is,” she said.

Nicholas shook his head, trying to rid himself of that futile hope. “But…this is what passed with my brother, when he was killed—he fell to his death.”

One of Rose’s brows arched again. “Then perhaps he, too, survived without you realizing it.”

Survived.

Nicholas had not cried since he was a child, and could not remember what it was to weep, but he imagined it had to be what was happening to him now. It seemed the only explanation for the pressure that rose up inside of him, that broke over him like a wave. He was stunned by the quiet force of it.

“She’s not…” The words shook as they left him. “He’s not…”

“Speaking for Etta, I think she’s still alive. The wound sounds serious, but not fatal, especially if she can find help,” Rose said. “I can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Can you help me find her?” he asked. “How? Where is she?”

Her expression sharpened, became assessing. “Who are you to her?”

“I’m the one who will always protect her,” he said. “I’m the one that will see her home.”

Rose allowed a small smile through, and it was so very Etta, he had to press his hands to his side to keep them from shaking. “What’s your name?”

“Nicholas. Nicholas Carter.” He managed a curt bow despite his disgust and fury. “Your servant, ma’am.”

Some of the ice in her expression chipped away as she gave him a small smile. “My, you’re serious.”

“Serious about this in particular,” he told her. “Any help would be gratefully accepted—please, I only mean to—”

She held up her hand. “If I could pinpoint it for you, I would. The only things left are to correct whatever small event it was that caused the timeline to adjust—the astrolabe being in Ironwood hands, likely—and to search for evidence of where the timeline might have thrown Etta. I can be of help with the latter, but can I trust you with the former? I imagine you know where to start looking.”

“Will it be enough to take the astrolabe out of Ironwood hands?” Nicholas asked.

“Only if you get to it before they use it,” she said. “Tell me once and for all that you can do this—otherwise you’re wasting my time.”

“I’ll find it,” he said quickly. Somehow…Sophia was bound to slip up, leave a small trail he could sniff out and track. “Thank you.”

Rose swung up onto her horse’s back. “Then this is where we’ll part.”

“How shall I get a message to you?” he asked. “After I retrieve the astrolabe, how will I know where to start looking for Etta herself? She won’t just be restored to this time, will she?”

“Of course not,” Rose said, unknotting the lead on the other horse and tossing him the reins. After casting an exasperated look at his lack of bags and supplies, she untied one of her saddlebags and gave that to him as well. Nicholas felt his pride take a small knock, but stood up straighter.

“I need to return to my present,” Rose said, “or Etta’s present, at least, in order to see which events have shifted, and