Sitting in the British Library's reading room, Reine flipped over the glossy photograph and read the label on the back.

008 NAVME Mariner's astrolabe

Description: Cast brass frame. All parts included and in exceptional condition.

Size: 207 mm diameter, 20 mm thick, 3288 g weight

Origin: Possibly Iran or Iraq

Date: circa 1600-1650

Graduations: Engraved scales to 1 degree with Arabic digits on the upper half of frame.

Inscriptions: None

Maker: Unknown

Provenance: Purchased by M. Nichols at auction in 1988; purchased as part of the Cantorini collection in 1923; in the possession of Admiral C. McGinty in 1840; found on a beach on Barbados in 1815.

She'd gone over the same lines numerous times in the course of the afternoon, but was still no closer to identifying the missing information. Although she'd called out several centuries' old manuscripts from the Asia and Africa collection, none of them proved useful. The reading room, which earlier had been packed with other researchers, was now almost completely empty. Even Noor had given up for the day in order to join Mal for dinner.

Reine turned over the picture and threw it on top of a dozen others like it. Although they also showed the same item, they were taken from different angles and with various degrees of magnification. Nevertheless, none were suitable. Reine preferred to examine artifacts personally: to feel the objects and to view them from a perspective a camera wasn't able to capture. It was easy to miss a tiny, yet important detail just from looking at a flat image.

She sighed, remembering she would have never guessed her pendant from Max was actually the original locket if she hadn't stumbled upon the hidden clasp.

The golden pendant with a jasper face. She drew her finger around the perimeter of the astrolabe in the photo, mimicking the shape of the jewelry she'd gotten for her engagement.

The engagement to Massimo Baldovini, son of a Florentine banker, at just sixteen years old. The movement of her finger stopped at the recollection.

He was so confident and assertive even then. He was also kind and generous. He'd devoted his attention to the family business upon his father's death, even at the expense of his own happiness.

She frowned. It was at the expense of her happiness, as well.

Although the delay of their wedding had been long, it luckily wasn't permanent. Six years later, they finally got a chance to declare their vows to each other in the church of Santa Maria Novella.

She smiled. They'd never even made it to the reception.

Reine had previously conferred extensively with her girlfriends - all of whom were by that age already not only married, but also with children - and thought she knew what to expect. Max loved her, but a man in the Fifteenth Century wasn't obligated to save himself for his future wife. She was held to different standards, but managed to look at the positive side: at least one of them would be experienced.

After years waiting for each other, they were both eager to consummate the marriage. The time leading up to it was easier during the years he often travelled, but when Max began spending more time in Florence, their mutual self-control was really put to the test.

Because of the extended engagement, their families considered a priest's blessing just a formality, and they often got to spend time together without a chaperone. While they didn't take full advantage of the lack of oversight, they came close on several occasions.

It all started innocently enough with stolen kisses. Those eventually turned into longer periods of passion, which Reine found herself not wanting to end. In each case, Max stopped things from going further, valuing tradition and honor above a moment of indiscretion.

As she snuck glances at her one and only love throughout their traditional, Roman Catholic wedding ceremony, Reine's anticipation just grew.

Max looked dashing as ever. The candlelight bounced off the waves in his shoulder-length, chocolate brown hair and made his eyes sparkle. His muscular legs were shapely in black hose topped with a similarly colored doublet with gold and maroon embellishments that matched her gown. A lavishly decorated dagger was tucked into his belt, and a leather coin purse hung from his hip.

Every time they got a chance to hold hands during the proceedings, he gave hers a small squeeze. He often shifted from one foot to another during the extended formalities; they had to wait through a full Mass, after all. At the time, the rites didn't even include a chance for the happy couple to kiss at the end, but Reine knew if he hadn't considered it sacrilege, Max would've taken her in a dark corner of the church right then and there.

Instead, as soon as the priest said the final 'Amen,' Max scooped her up in his arms and ran to the waiting carriage. After drawing the curtains closed, he unlaced his breeches, hiked her skirts up, and made his bride into a woman, all before they had arrived back at Palazzo Baldovini.

The quick, primordial act left both wanting more. With a huge grin on his face, Max led his new wife by the hand and circumvented the ceremonial hall in favor of their private quarters.

Reine didn't mind missing all the dancing and chatting with guests who came from all over the Apennine Peninsula, as well as from neighboring kingdoms. She was more disappointed about not getting a taste of the pheasant soup or roast boar, which her brothers had hunted specifically for the occasion.

But the sacrifice was well worth it, as her husband gave her experiences she never even imagined. The couple didn't even leave their private apartment in the palazzo for two whole days, exploring and enjoying each other like no way before. It wasn't a surprise to Reine then how quickly she became pregnant.

It was her duty at the time, of course. But even so, when six weeks later the telltale signs appeared during their trip to Venice, she was unbelievably happy to be carrying Max's child. Wanting to deliver the news in a way fit for its significance, she planned to secretly shop for the perfect Christening gown made of Venetian lace. Max's insistence on taking her to Murano to order a custom-made chandelier unwittingly derailed her intentions.

The storm, which knocked her into the lagoon and ultimately ended her mortal life made Reine lose all hope of motherhood for the next five centuries.

Lost in her daydreams again, her head snapped up when a dark-haired beauty in all black slid into the seat across the table.

"Sylvana?" Reine instinctively pushed her chair backwards, increasing the distance between the two of them. For all she knew, Max's former lover still meant her harm.

The woman smirked and weaved her slender fingers together in front of her. "Lovely to see you, too."

Reine began to gather the research materials strewn over the tabletop into a neat pile. "What do you want? How did you know I was here?"

Sylvana picked up a close-up photo of the astrolabe and studied it for a few seconds. Puckering her lips, she tilted the image. "Oh, don't be alarmed. I just wanted to say good-bye before heading back home."

Reine furrowed her forehead. "Home? Where is that exactly? Hell, perhaps?" she asked with unbridled disdain.

The woman laughed, her ruby-red lips framing her large mouth. "Where it's always been until you screwed things up for everyone around you."

Reine ignored the insinuation and focused on the facts. "You mean Philadelphia?" When Sylvana nodded, she scoffed. "You're delusional. Max doesn't want you anymore."

"Are you sure about that, darling? How do you think I found you here?" The woman looked behind her, as the man in question stepped out from between the stacks.

Seeing him stand behind the woman who'd caused her so much grief, Reine's stomach tightened into a knot and she suddenly felt nauseated. "What's . . . what's going on?" She was barely able to get the words out.

Max put his hands on Sylvana's shoulders. "One of the Council's conditions for giving me amnesty was that I make peace between the two of you."

Reine's eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I most certainly am." He smiled, obviously assigning less gravity to the situation.

Reine stood up, using the table to steady herself. "But she can't even be here." She avoided the others' eyes and continued to place the historical records into their original dust sleeves.

"Actually, the Order has allowed all members of the Brotherhood into the UK in anticipation of the consolidation," Max said as he stepped away from Sylvana, picked up a stray document, and held it above the table.

Reine took the manuscript. "The consolidation?"

"Oh, darling. Don't be so obtuse," Sylvana hissed. "The consolidation refers to the event where Max joins the Order of Westminster and thereby gives control of the Confraternity of the Resurrection to Wescott. The plan should sound familiar since he's doing it because of you." She emphasized the last three words.

"That's not true," Reine snapped, hitting the tabletop with her palms. "Max does whatever he wants. He doesn't owe me any favors. Nor I him, which is why I don't understand why you'd think I'm just going to forgive and forget after everything you've done to make MY life miserable."

"I thought it was clear that I was just following orders," the woman sneered, turning toward Max. "His orders."

Max nodded. "She's right. And if you've managed to forgive me--"

"I never said that," Reine whispered before closing her eyes. After taking a deep breath, she looked up again and turned to Sylvana. "But since you're already here, I need to speak with you. In private."

"Are you sure about that?" Max frowned, touching her arm. When Reine nodded, he shrugged his shoulders. "I'll wait downstairs."

After he was out of sight, Reine grabbed the other woman's wrist. "Stop lying to me. I know about the prediction or prophecy or whatever you want to call it you made about me decades or perhaps centuries ago."

"You've been to Scoby?" Sylvana shook off Reine's grip with the rhetorical question. "Well, then you know."

Reine crossed her arms. "I do, but the thing is, you don't."

"I've been living with that damn rhyme for two centuries, and now you're speaking in riddles?" Sylvana rolled her eyes. "Get to the point."

"You really should have more patience with me because I'm about to tell you that you've been wasting your time trying to get Max all to yourself. He's not part of the prophecy; he's not one of the two."

"What? That's impossible. 'Two will come, they'll break your heart.' That's Max and Gabe."

"No, it's not." Reine pointed to her stomach. "It's them."

Sylvana's mouth fell open, as she comprehended the message. "Them? You mean . . . twins?" She mouthed the last word in case Max was still within earshot.

Reine nodded. "Destined for immortality. That's the infinite power, so stop trying to get something that's not yours. Now, don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I never see you again."