Chapter 5 #2
His eyes looked almost completely black under the night sky, but in my mind I saw his colors. Words burned the tip of my tongue—get more weapons. A bow and arrows. Safer to use from a distance, I wanted to say—and this was what made me curious.
I didn’t really care about whether he got hurt or not, yet a part of me insisted that I should and that I did and that I would. It was all very strange, and even more confusing. There must have been a disease hiding in my mind—just like one had hidden in Jinx’s heart all her life.
Would I find out too late, too?
A bell rang.
The others fell back in line, all armed to their teeth. Agility and the ability to wield at least one weapon was a must in the trial application process, so it made sense that they knew weapons, too. They’d filled their pockets with as many as they could carry.
I itched to do the same. Five knives were better than three, but Father’s voice was in my head: carry what you use in battle, not what confuses you and slows you down.
“Hear, hear!” said a voice that came from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
And the crowd was standing, screaming, cheering, clapping.
It was like someone had grabbed me by the shoulders and shaken me until I could no longer tell up from down, left from right. They were cheering so loudly, and the night became even brighter, and the voice continued:
“Welcome, Your Excellencies, and you, ladies and gentlemen, and the Hands of the Turning Trials—welcome back to where it all ended!”
I couldn’t see who was speaking, or from where, but the voice was undeniably male, and the crowd lost their minds over it.
I was almost certain I hadn’t heard that voice before, but the more he spoke the more some part of me thought it knew exactly how irritating it could be.
“To our queens—thank you, Your Royal Clocklinesses, for hosting these trials, and for always giving us, the people, the show of our lives!”
The White Queen looked like she was about to melt where she stood as she peered over at the audience and slowly bowed her head a little bit. Even her cheeks had become slightly pink.
“To our spectators—feast your eyes during these one-of-a-kind backward trials!” the speaker continued.
More screams. So loud. More applause.
The soldiers were already retreating with their near empty boxes, and we were alone there with the queen on that grass. With those dark trees just ahead.
Blood, blood, blood, my mind whispered to me.
“And to our dearest Hands—welcome, welcome! Lucky you, you get to undo everything you worked so hard to do, I’m sure. Such great, great luck!” the speaker screamed on whatever magic he was using to amplify his voice.
My stomach twisted. I squeezed the handles of the knives to remind myself that I wasn’t helpless.
This was happening.
This is really happening?
How in Time’s Temper was this actually happening?
Wake up, Ora. Now’s your last chance to get out of this dream—wake up!
I didn’t.
“We all see the Great Clock, do we not? We all see its face…”
All of us turned to the other side, to where the tower and the Great Clock were.
The Labyrinth was built right next to it, specifically for the Turning Trials.
It was a big place, and I had no idea how big exactly, but it felt tiny in comparison to that giant tower.
Especially the palace we’d walked out of minutes ago.
It was a big building, five floors, white walls decorated with red, and so many windows I got dizzy trying to count—but it still looked like a cottage next to the tower.
“It is stuck, as my eyes tell me,” the speaker continued.
The cheering slowed down. “A curse gone wrong. A brave queen, her Royal Goodness, ready to sacrifice everything to save her people, at any cost. And now…” The White Queen’s smile didn’t look painful for once. “Now, it’s in the hands of the Hands!”
Laughter. The queen laughed her heart out, and so did the speaker, and so did the audience watching from those seats.
“The good news is that you’ve done it before. The bad news? None of us remembers how—but don’t panic yet. Simply unwin the trials before Time stops for good…or don’t,” the speaker continued. “Your failure is permanent, after all.”
My mind screamed, why are they laughing?!
“Now, smile for our casters, won’t you?” The next second, our faces were on the two large projections on the sides of the arena. “If you need to scream, just do it later. For now—smile!”
For the last time, the audience laughed, the queen laughed, and we took the last breath with a fake sense of courage from having been handed all those weapons.
“Go ahead, little tickers. Off into the forest. And do remember to unwin!” the White Queen said, coming behind us now, gently pushing us forward. “I wish you all good-timing!”
“How will we know how?” asked Russ. It seemed he was no longer trying to pretend he wasn’t terrified.
As if on cue, the speaker went at it again with that irritating voice that made my flesh rise in goose bumps.
“I can’t give away much this time around, I’m afraid.
But what I can tell you about the last trial turned first is that it’s called unwinning for a reason.
” He paused and the crowd erupted in whispers, which then made the speaker chuckle.
“I really can’t say more than this: break what you fixed and fix what you broke.
Un-everything, our dearest Hands. Now—off you go! ”
Un-everything.
My heart hammered still. My palms were sweating, which was a very bad thing, as the handles of the knives were going to slip right out of my fingers.
“Wait! I can’t do this—wait!” said one Hand or the other while I tried to come to terms with the fact that this is happening still.
We can’t just go in there—wait, I said!
I want my father this instant! This is outrageous!
Why is the forest so dark? What’s in there?
How are we to unwin what we don’t remember winning?!
Except the White Queen wasn’t near us anymore—all I saw was her silhouette as she retreated, gliding over the grass, a ghost in a white dress.
Instead, the soldiers, either the same ones who’d brought us the weapons or others, were behind us, gently and not-so-gently pushing us forward. Toward the dark trees. The big trees.
The blood.
“I won’t—I won’t—I won’t go in there!”
This from Levana, and she turned around.
Run, run, run! my own instincts screamed at me, because whatever was waiting for us behind those trees was not good. It was bad. It was death.
But then Levana tried before I could, and…
She moved backward.
I resisted the urge to rub my eyes.
She was trying to run between the two guards in front of her, to get away from the forest—it was plain to see that she wanted to get to the people. To the audience. Away.
Yet when she tried to take a step forward, her foot fell back. Toward the forest.
Levana looked down at her legs. We all looked down at ours. Impossible, I wanted to think—but no. The moment I thought about turning to run, my legs moved on their own—forward, not back.
“The Trial has officially ended! We will see you in the beginning,” the speaker shouted, but I barely understood the words. Because with every step I wanted to take back, I took one forward—and not just me. All of us.
Screams. Gasps. Cries.
Focus, Ora, focus!
And there was only one thing to focus on: there was no way out but through.