Eliza watched Timira though the eyes of a woman scorned, yet she just simply couldn’t stay mad at her. She was different, that much was sure. Her eyes were brown, nothing to special about them. The haunted look in her eyes was gone, and was replaced by the same look that a beaten dog had.

Eliza glanced over at Quill, who wouldn’t stop staring at Light. “Oh my god…”

“What is it?” Jack said in an abrupt voice. She knew that look in his eyes, he was mad.

“Nothing, nothing.” His voice was submissive, and before they had a chance to respond they were thrust forward in time.

Eliza stumbled at the sheer force, and for a moment she could feel Timira’s thoughts in her head. She was nervous, her mother was in a bad mood and she was likely to be cruel to her at the luncheon in front of everyone. But she had to make sure Light was okay, that she was nestled in the crowd somewhere when that happened.

She shook her head clear of Timira’s thoughts, her breathe uneven. All of her knowledge of the working of the human brain came from crime shows and the list of fears in the front chapters of her favorite book, but she knew exactly what was going on.

Timira’s mother was abusive, and she was hiding Light from it and shouldering it all by herself.

“Let us begin the service with a special prayer for the soldiers that have graced our humble ministry.” Eliza snapped back into what she would loosely call her reality. There was a rather plump minister who was beginning the Sunday service.

She swerved her head just in time to catch a dark haired boy smile at Timira, who in return blushed. Eliza watched Timira fidget with her long braids until her mother smacked her hand and gave her a warning glare. Her hands fell into her lap.

Eliza sat in an empty spot about two isles away from where the Lorde family were, she listened to the service. About an hour later the Minister finished his preaching and smiled.

“And I have some wonderful news, and the cause for our luncheon today. This wonderful~” The crowd laughed politely at his play on words. “meal in honor of the engagement of Timira Lorde and Connor Saint-Patrick.”

“What.” Timira whispered, and immediately turned to her mother and father.

Alex turned to Resell in turn as well, “You said you were going over there to have tea.” His voice was tight. “She’s seventeen for Christ’s sake.”

Judging by the look on the family’s face, he didn’t cuss that often.

“Plenty old enough, besides their giving us three of their finest colts for her hand.” Before anyone could say anything else, Connor was standing in front of Timira.

He held out his arm and Timira took it and stood with quiet shock. They walked up to the minister and he sprinkled a couple drops of holy water over them. “May the lord bless and keep you.”

Eliza wouldn’t stand for it. “This is bull shit! They’re selling her like cattle! They can’t do this, I won’t let them.”

Jack’s jaw was iron tight as he clenched it. “There’s nothing we can do about it, this is a memory. Remember?”

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, what has happened cannot be undone.” Quill muttered under his breathe. They’d heard that since they were children, they knew the drill.