Chapter 40
She was more petite than she’d looked in those scenes while I was stillward—or maybe it was just my perception, the idea of her I’d created in my head?
After everything—the stories, the stolen time, the way she turned time backward—I expected a giant.
A monster. Something that matched all she’d done, but no.
She was just a woman. Average height, white hair cut below her chin, the edges of it turned outward, a crystal crown glistening on her head, a face that looked forty, smooth and sharp and controlled.
Her every feature was arranged in an expression of mild, almost bored amusement.
She wasn’t alone.
Soldiers, dozens of them, stepped out of the trees on all sides, surrounding the garden in a ring of silver armor. They had their hands on their weapons, and the plaques of their armor made that awful sound with every step they took—perfectly coordinated as they closed in.
And behind the soldiers, standing slightly apart, her face half-hidden by a veil of deep red, was the Red Queen.
She was so…regal. A couple of inches shorter than the White Queen, but she had a lot more presence.
Her arched brows were slightly raised, her eyes a dark brown, her lips painted red, pressed together like she wanted to thin them out even more.
She wore red from head to toe, her suit tight around her torso, her pants loose.
As she came, her eyes were on us, on all our faces, almost like she was forcing herself to look.
For the longest moment, and until her eyes locked on mine, I didn’t breathe at all.
Nobody moved.
“Did you really think,” the White Queen said, and her voice was birdsong—light, musical, perfectly pitched, “that I wouldn’t notice nine Hands and a dead boy crawling through my Labyrinth like rats through a pipe?”
The way she spoke. The tone of her voice suggested she was talking about flowers or dresses or any other positive thing.
Nobody answered. Nobody could.
Laughter—and it was as sweet as it was sharp. Strings pulled inside me, my organs rioting, rebelling against the sound of her. Against the memory of her, even if I couldn’t reach it.
The Red Queen stayed back, hands folded, chin up, jaw locked.
But the White Queen walked closer. Her shoes made no sound on the scorched ground. The soldiers held their circle, spread all around us.
We were surrounded.
We were outnumbered, with an unconscious boy behind us, with half burned, stolen evidence at our feet, and nowhere to run.
“I’ve been watching you since the moment you crawled through that fence the first time,” she said, and her smile could slice you in half. “I watched you find the rustblood and the boy he hid. You really, really shouldn’t have…”
She laughed again, and it was like she was peeling my skin off me.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, said the voices in my head. It was all so very wrong. She was the queen. She was the ruler of our realm—the protector.
But…she wasn’t.
“I watched you break into my tower.” She knows, she knows, of course she knows… “Yes, I watched all of it and I must say, the performance was outstanding, little tickers! Bravo!”
She clapped her hands. She sounded so cheerful.
I couldn’t stand the sound of her, the sight of her—her.
“You’re a thief,” I hissed, the words coming out of me before I could stop them. “You’re a thief and a murderer and-and-and we have the proof!”
My voice shook. I hated that my voice shook and my chest shook from how fast my heart was beating, and my hands shook, too, even as I held March’s with all my strength.
The White Queen’s eyebrows rose. She looked at what was left of the bundles on the ground. Grinned.
“Is that what these are,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Broken, burned metal plaques that you stole from the Ever. Plaques that could be anything—forged, fabricated, planted by a group of confused, traumatized children who were manipulated by…a terrorist.” Her eyes landed on Master Talik.
“Do you really think, dear girl, that even if you managed to get out of here, anybody would believe you?”
My mouth opened and closed. I couldn’t find it in me to make a single sound. Over, said the voices in my head next. Everything was already over.
But then Silas stepped forward. “The Distributor’s inscriptions can’t be forged. Every Timekeeper in the realm knows that. The machine’s signature is on every plaque—date-stamped, authenticated by the Great Clock itself.”
“Yes, yes, certainly—and who is going to verify that?” The White Queen tilted her head to the side like she really was confused.
“Would that be…the Timekeepers who work for me? The ones I’ve appointed, trained, promoted?
The ones whose families live in Neverwhen, in houses I provide, on streets I maintain? ”
The realization hit me like the blast had—sudden, total, knocking the air from my chest.
Holy Hour, I only now saw how ridiculous it had all been, how pathetic we were for even trying.
She’d thought of everything. She’d had decades and decades to think of everything—and of course a bunch of barely-adults weren’t going to catch her unprepared!
Time’s Teeth, what had we done…
“Oh, but it doesn’t matter now, does it?” She giggled, and then her voice became flat. Cold. “Because none of you are going to remember any of this, anyway.”
“Spare them, Your Majesty,” Master Talik then said. “You’re right—I am to blame. It was me who forced them—”
“No,” Silas said. “It was me. If anyone deserves punishment, it should be me. I cast the curse, remember? I did all of this. They’re not to blame.”
More laughter, and I almost shouted at both of them to shut up-shut up-shut up-she doesn’t care! Were they really that delusional that they thought this woman cared about anything other than herself?
She didn’t, and even if she didn’t know the truth, she wouldn’t risk it. She’d kill all of us—and I was fine with it. I was among people I loved, even if I didn’t remember how I’d fallen in love with them. I was among people who’d tried, even if it had been useless all along.
I was with March, and his hand was in mine. I leaned in and kissed his shoulder just for a second, just to remind myself of the fact.
When I looked up again, the eyes of the Red Queen poured fire at me, but I held myself and stared back. They could have our lives—we could do nothing to stop them, but at least I had my dignity.
“Oh, you silly, silly rustbloods.” The White Queen wrinkles her nose like she suddenly smelled something awful. Of course, she wasn’t going to take Master Talik or Silas into account—she knew. She’d been watching. Most importantly, she didn’t care.
So, she stepped back, her hands folded in front of her, and the soldiers stayed right where they were.
“Sister, dearest—finish it, pretty please. Wipe their minds completely. All the way…”
I swallowed hard.
The Red Queen stepped forward.
“Kneel,” the White ordered, and it was like she’d slapped me across the face.
Behind me, someone cried. Someone sobbed. Someone cursed under their breath.
March had his eyes closed as he breathed, as he squeezed my hand.
“Kneel, I say!”
The shout made my heart shake. None of us moved, but the soldiers did.
All of a sudden they were everywhere, the sound of metal on metal when they unsheathed their swords filling my ears, and there were hands on my shoulders, pushing me down, kicks on the backs of my legs to make me obey.
Screams and shouts around us, and before the minute was over, we were all kneeling. The soldiers stepped back, swords in hand, watching.
The queens were right in front of us.
Tears slid down my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, children,” Master Talik whispered. “I knew better. I-I’m sorry.”
I looked at him where he stood behind me to the left. “It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Just theirs.
“C’mon, do it.” The sound of the White Queen’s voice made me look at her, but she had her eyes on her sister. “Finish it. All their minds—wipe them clean.”
My blood had long turned to ice. Because wipe them clean meant not a veil this time, but actual erasure—through extraction or other forms, it didn’t really matter.
Our memories would be gone. Not just of two weeks or a month—but all.
Everything, everyone I knew. All my memories. Jinx. March. My parents and my friends…
Me.
“You c-c-can’t do that,” Mimi said from my side. “You can’t just wipe our minds—”
“Oh, but I can do whatever I please!” The White Queen turned to her with a bright smile on her sharp face. “Don’t you know? That’s what being queen means!”
“Please,” Anika whispered, and she was crying, too. “Please, we won’t-we won’t tell anyone. We’ll go home. We’ll forget all of this on our own, just please don’t—”
“You had your chance to stay home. You chose this instead. Now you live with the consequences.” She felt mighty proud of her words if the way she crossed her arms and raised her chin was anything to go by.
I wanted to say something, too—half of me caught between begging and reminding her that she did not have the right to do this. And I knew it was useless—of course I knew. It was done. It was over.
But Jinx would have wanted me to say something, I thought. She wouldn’t have wanted me to just give up so easily, no matter how many soldiers surrounded me.
So, I said, “Queens are supposed to protect their people, to take care of us. You…you’re no queen.”
My voice shook again, but the words were out. I said them. If she killed me because of this, I didn’t really care. It made no difference—I’d be dead without my mind, anyway. A different kind of death. Maybe if she cut off my head right now, it would be better. Kinder.
But she didn’t.
The way she looked at me. The way both of them looked at me.
The White Queen said, “And who’s wearing a crown?”
Of course, I didn’t answer. There really was no point.
Her smile stretched and stretched—like a serpent slithering. “Thought so,” she whispered, then turned to the Red Queen and told her, “I won’t ask again.”