Page 94 of Stealing Infinity (Stolen Beauty)

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“The lighthouse keepers disappeared without a trace,” Braxton says. “And they were eventually ruled as a series of suicides. The local jurisdiction claimed they must’ve jumped from the windows and let the sea take them. Truth is, they were lost in the time storm.”

I stare speechless. I have no idea what to say.

“That was all long ago. But it’s one of the reasons Arthur was able to purchase the rock for so cheap. Between the disappearances and the wind, no one wanted anything to do with it, so they were happy to let Arthur take ownership. Since the lighthouse was the only existing structure at the time, he used it for his earliest experiments. But after building the gilded cage, as you call it, he deactivated the whole thing and moved on.”

“But they were pushing buttons, lights were flashing, and the roof slid open—” I remember the feel of rain on my head, but when I touch my hair now, I discover it’s dried into a halo of frizz.

“All special effects,” Braxton assures me. “The lighthouse was unused until Elodie discovered it and decided to use it for her hazing headquarters…among other things.”

I remember the piles of cushions, candles, blankets, and quickly avert my gaze.

“Just to be clear, you didn’t go anywhere. Elodie just hypnotized you.”

“But she said I had a choice.”

“It’s her way of testing your loyalty to the academy and what we do here. Technically, you couldn’t undo the choice since you weren’t Tripping. Also, you can’t return to an earlier version of yourself. It’s called crossing your own timeline, and trust me, it leads nowhere good.”

“But what if I chose not to stay—what would’ve happened to me?”

I remember the ruthless way Elodie shoved the bag over my head. How much more is she capable of?

Braxton shrugs. “No one’s ever made that choice. Probably because you end up here only if there’s nothing worth going back to.”

I think about missing Mason, my mom. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

“I saw stuff. Stuff I missed the first time.”

Braxton inhales a sharp breath, and in that instant, I know that he knows I’m referring to what happened between Elodie and him.

“Hypnosis often reveals that which is kept hidden,” he says. “The first time you experienced it, you were in a trance state under Elodie’s direction. But just because you lacked immediate recall doesn’t mean your mind failed to record it.”

A few silent beats pass between us. I break it when I say, “They said something about a talisman.” My gaze finds his. “Also, something about lions fawning over lambs and the lambs following.”

Braxton sighs and shakes his head. “The quote is Shakespeare, fromHenry VI.”

“So, Elodie thinks she’s the lion and I’m the lamb?” I flinch at the sting of truth. I certainly fell for her fawning back at our old school.

“She thinks that about everyone,” Braxton says, drawing me away from my thoughts. “As for a talisman, it’s a sort of good luck charm you bring along when you Trip. It helps you remember who you really are, and where and when you belong. It’s personal to everyone. But it must be either really small and not easily detected, something that would be suitable to the time, or both.”

“You mean, without the talisman there’s a chance I might not have woken up from the dream?”

“No.” He slides a hand up my calf, unaware of the trail of shivers he’s left in his wake as his thumb comes to rest on my knee. “If she’d given you a talisman, it would’ve been nothing more than a show of meaningless pageantry. As for not waking up, I never would’ve let that happen. I would’ve found you. I would’ve figured it out. But Natasha, this is exactly why you need to keep your tablet with you at all times.”

My tablet. In the distance, I hear it buzzing again. When I get up to retrieve it, I find a block of messages from Braxton, each one expressing increasing degrees of worry. Once those are cleared, the message of the day pops onto the screen:

We know what we are,

but know not what we may be.

—William Shakespeare,Hamlet

Braxton comes up behind me, the hard angles of his body seamlessly conforming to the soft curves of mine. Then he tucks his arms around my waist and buries his face at the back of my neck. The nearness of him, the scorching warmth of his touch, the cool wisp of his breath on my nape, sparks an ache so deep, it takes all my resolve to suppress it.

“Don’t let on that you know.” I whisper the words into his shoulder, then reluctantly untangle myself from his embrace and turn to face him. “I don’t want them thinking I’m tattling. I may have passed their messed-up trust exercise, but that doesn’t mean they actually trust me.”

Braxton nods, then pulls me back to him, his fingers tracing a gentle curving line along the hollow of my cheek. Just the sight of his lids falling, his lips angling toward me, has me longing to silence my sensible side and listen to the more decadent needs of my body.