Page 81 of Twin Flames
Sylvia’s skin glowed, and her face wore an ecstatic expression. ‘George is not lost. He will be saved. It’s out of your hands.’ And then her eyes flickered open, and it was over.
‘Was that helpful? I don’t even know what I said. All I know is it was channelled through me more strongly than ever before,’ said Sylvia, visibly shaken.
Cara thanked her, paid and rushed back to her car, more confused than when she went in. If it wasn’t up to her, then what was she to do? Did the message from the Angel Gabriel mean that as she wasn’t in Tudorville, she must trust her 1536 self to break George out? She had set the plan in motion so it could be continuing, regardless of her being unaware of it. But she couldn’t know for sure without going back. Frustration mounted as helplessness gripped her. This wasn’t the time to give in tooverwhelm. She must find a way to save George, but what was the meaning of the mysterious warning?
Cara drove home, numb. She dragged her weary frame out of the car and into the cottage, flicked on the lights and the radio to distract herself as she prepared a light supper of scrambled eggs on toast. After only a couple of mouthfuls, she pushed the plate away, feeling nauseous. She went upstairs and drew a hot, bubble bath, to try and relax but lay there agitated and pulled the plug out five minutes later. She would go to sleep and forget about everything. As much as she wrestled with the idea, it seemed there was nothing she could do for George at this point, except wait. Sleep would help to pass the hours until the vortex called her back in time. Then she’d know what to do.
Twisting and turning in bed, she found it difficult to get comfortable. She was mentally and physically exhausted but couldn’t fall asleep. For a brief moment, she longed for the days before she’d met George. Her life had been peaceful then; dull but calm. And now he was gone, and she would face a future without him unless she could find a way to bring him back to life in this timeline.
‘Cara. Cara. Please come back to me.’
She awoke to the rich timbre of George’s voice and began to weep; such was her yearning for him. His beautiful voice was tormented. Checking her phone, she saw it was three in the morning. It had been so vivid. Disappointment filled her senses as reality flooded back, and she realised it was just a dream. They were still separated by time. And then the vortex enveloped her, and in a moment she was gone.
Cradle Tower, London, 1536
George lay shivering on the lumpy mattress in his cell. Such was the sudden wave of despair that engulfed him; he called out, ‘Cara. Cara. Please come back to me.’ He rarely shed tears, but he was powerless to stop them spilling down his cold cheeks. The pain in his chest was intense. It wasn’t Cara’s fault, but he felt as though she’d abandoned him. He couldn’t bear another empty day in this cell, awaiting his death, knowing he’d never see her or his children again. He had lost all hope. There was nothing left to live for.
Cara and Edward had secured lodging near to the Tower of London. It was the middle of the night, but Cara was unable to sleep any longer. She could feel George’s pain as if it were her own. Sylvia told her that Twin Flames share a telepathic bond and can feel and hear each other even when separated. She knew he needed her now, but she couldn’t go to him. She’d be arrested, so she did the next best thing. Cara threw her cloak over her long white nightgown and headed towards the Tower. She must be near him. If there was any chance he might be able to sense she was near, she was willing to take the risk.
A couple of guards snoozed by the Tower gates, and all was eerily quiet. The full moon glowed high in the sky and cast a golden hue over the ancient castle walls. Cara was overcome with emotion and fell to her knees, grazing them on the hard cobbles, as she clutched the necklace George had given to her as a gift upon their engagement. She feared she couldn’t take much more, but she must be strong for him. He had sacrificed himself for her and the children; she must not let him down.
‘George. George.’
She stood up, silently crying out to him as she leaned against the thick stone wall. A veil of tears streamed down her face. She mustn’t alert the guards; she’d be no use locked up in the Tower alongside George, even though she was tempted to throw herself on their mercy in the hope of catching a glimpse of him.Standing there in the dark velvety night with the moon dancing above the towers, she felt strangely closer to him than she had in weeks. Was it possible he could feel her presence? She was comforted and didn’t know how long she stood, chained to the spot, her heart heavy. She prayed for God’s mercy. Had he forsaken them?
Some hours later, first light crept over London, and she drew her cloak tightly around her shoulders and slipped back to her lodgings before the Tower inhabitants began to stir.
London, 1840
George whistled as he busied himself with preparations to leave for Madrid. Always a happy fellow, there was a new bounce to his step at the delightful prospect of spending months or possibly longer, with Cara in Spain. He hoped they would have more time alone together than they managed to have here near the court. His royal post was demanding, and he was frequently away on business. Cara wasn’t able to join him as it would not have been fitting, so the trip promised to be a wonderful interlude for them.
He wrote a letter to his good friend, Carlos, asking him to look for a suitable villa for them in Seville. Madrid would be a temporary stop, but it would be sensible to have their own place in Seville.
CHAPTER 25
London, 1536
Cara awoke in bed, at her modest London tavern lodgings. It was as if she’d not left. Except for one thing: an ominous warning echoed in the chambers of her mind.
Sylvia said that the Angel Gabriel warned her that all was not as it seemed. Or could it have been only a dream on this occasion? Perhaps she hadn’t time travelled at all. She pulled her legs up towards her chest and curled up into a ball as she willed herself back to sleep. She wanted to shut out reality. Her mind was foggy, and she couldn’t think clearly. Sleep wasn’t to be. A few minutes later, there was a gentle tap on the door.
‘Yes, who’s there?’
‘Lady Cara, it’s me, Edward. I must speak with you.’
‘Yes, of course. Please enter.’
Cara shot up in bed and pulled the sheet over her nightdress.
‘Good morning Edward. Is everything all right? Judging by the light, it’s barely dawn.’
‘Yes, it’s not much more, my lady. But I thought I should come and tell you the news immediately I heard it.’
‘Heard what? Whatever did you hear?’
‘Swifty brought me word just a few moments ago that yesterday evening they began building a new scaffold on Tower Green. He couldn’t get away last night. He said he overheard that it’s similar to the one they used for poor Queen Anne. The lad’s terrified; white as a ghoul. Raced here to warn us.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Cara. A tremor shot through her body, and she began to shake. ‘We’re running out of time. We must put our plan into motion today. There’s no time to waste.’
