Free Time's Divide (The Chronos Files Book 3) by Rysa Walker

shakes his head. “She’d just use the spare.”
    “Then we’ll take that one, too!” I counter. “There are four of us.”
    “Yeah, well, unless one of you is a surgeon, it won’t make a damned bit of difference. The bloody thing is embedded in her arm.”
    “ In her arm?” Trey asks. “How?”
    “An upgrade she got a while back. And those two guys you keep sneaking looks at, Kate? You’re right. They’re temple security—London branch. I think they’re a little confu . . . sed—”
    Kiernan goes silent because Pru has returned to her seat. Except . . . one side of my brain insists she never left, that she’s been right there in her chair for the past minute. She never said Saul can’t be trusted. Instead, she gave us this line about how he can’t be troubled with handling all of the details, so she’s going to take Mom back to her place in Paris. Or maybe they’ll go to Greece. Or to Rome for a few weeks. Right now, she’s saying something about the Colosseum and how they’ll go back to when it wasn’t in ruins, maybe catch one of those gladiator shows.
    Even though part of me swears she’s been sitting there, spouting this nonsense the entire time, I also remember sitting here at the table with Pru’s chair empty. Just me, Mom, Trey, and Kiernan. The dueling memories are unpleasant, kind of like there’s a mouse inside my head, near the front, chewing away at the synapses or something. It hurts—not a loud, roaring pain, but just that small, nibbling sensation.
    I press the heels of my hands against my eyes for a moment, rubbing my temples with my thumbs. As I look around the table, everyone else—everyone except Prudence, that is—seems to be dealing with the same dual memory. Mom looks like the tiny roast beef sandwich she ate a minute ago is going to make a hasty exit. Trey just stares down at the napkin in his lap, his face pale.
    Kiernan looks a bit rattled, too, but he catches my eye and gives me a see-what-I-mean look.
    I turn toward Pru, even though every word I say is aimed at Mom. “I’m sorry, Aunt Prudence, but I need Mom to come home. Back to DC. My grandfather is ill, and I don’t know how long Dad will need to be in Delaware. Katherine’s dying. I need one of my parents—”
    “Oh, boohoo. Cut the I-need-my-mommy crap, Kate.” Prudence pauses to drain the rest of her champagne and pours herself some more. “You’ve been perfectly happy keeping Deborah in the dark until now. If you’re old enough to butt into everyone else’s business, you’re old enough to be on your own, sweetie.”
    Prudence’s eyes are clear and sharp now, blue-gray daggers aiming straight at me. The venom in her voice reminds me of the chat we shared at the Expo. She gives me a saccharine little smile before continuing. “You didn’t want your mom in the way, interrupting your little trysts at the townhouse, or wondering what trouble you’re getting into with Grandma. Otherwise you’d have warned Deborah about the research trip from the beginning.”
    My hands grip the edge of my chair, and I lean toward Pru, my voice angry. “If I’d known you were behind the trip—”
    Prudence cuts me off with a loud laugh. “You didn’t guess ? And here I was worrying I was being much too ob . . . vi . . . ous . . .” She’s staring at the top tier of the tea tray now, eyes fixed on a small layered cake with red jam on top.
    Her face transforms to childlike joy as she picks up the dessert and sniffs it. “I think it’s raspberry. I love raspberry!”
    Pru sinks her teeth into the little cake and gives a sigh of pleasure. “ Definitely raspberry! Here, Deb, take the other one. You’ll love it.”
    Mom’s hand slides down to cover my own, which is still clutching the edge of my chair. She leaves it there for a few seconds as she tells her sister that the cake does indeed look delicious. One last squeeze, then she reaches over to take the pastry from Prudence.
    It was a tiny gesture. I