Chapter 28
Apparently, Erith throwing up last morning hadn’t been a coincidence—Anika and Seth had done it, too. Elida’s only explanation was that our bodies were getting used to time flowing backward in the Labyrinth. She said it was nothing to worry about, that it would all go back to normal soon.
Which was bullshit.
Master Talik had asked me if I’d felt the time. I hadn’t, not yet, but Helen most certainly did when she threw up, too, all over the table and all the gadgets in the workshop during our lesson.
By the looks of it, most of us were going to throw our guts out sooner or later, and I was already dreading my turn.
Master Talik wasn’t fazed by the vomit on his table.
He simply pushed his gears to the other side and continued the lesson while Elida helped Helen drink water, and two maids came to clean up the mess with rags and magic.
The acidic smell remained, though, and the others were constantly checking on Helen—except me.
Two parts of me raged, battled like never before, again and again.
Common sense said that I didn’t need to check on her, and nobody else did, either, because it was just throwing up and we knew it.
And Erith, Anika and Seth looked perfectly well right now, even though they’d thrown up during the night, as well as after dinner.
The other part of me insisted that I was empty-empty-empty, and this strange sense of resentment toward myself was building up inside me so quickly, and that, in turn, made me more angry.
It was hard not to flip them the tick when the others watched me the way they did.
March watched me, too. I was trying hard not to notice.
I was trying hard not to think about him, knowing how wrong this entire thing was, knowing how much we didn’t know still.
On the other hand, I was dying to speak out the words, to tell him what Master Talik had told me, to show him what I’d drawn, and the object I stole.
I didn’t dare.
What exactly was I supposed to say? That they know, they all remember, they’re all liars?
Of course he wouldn’t believe me. Just the way he was looking at me now as we walked toward the training arena to meet with Asha.
Confused. Maybe angry. Definitely suspicious.
They made us train one by one again, easier things—climbing, tying ropes, navigating maze-like structures with blindfolds on. I really didn’t see the point of it. In both trials, we hadn’t had to do any of these things they were teaching us, except maybe fighting with the clockbeasts.
Were they planning on unleashing more clockbeasts on us in the third trial? Because otherwise this was wasted time and energy.
By the time I bathed, and Lida insisted on putting that salve on a few cuts on my forearms and cheek, I was exhausted, but sleeping was out of the question. I didn’t want to eat, either, and Lida refused to give me any insight of that surprise she’d mentioned earlier.
I considered asking her again if she remembered me—or Silas.
I considered showing her his portrait, too.
I considered straight out asking her why she was pretending not to remember, just to see the look on her face—but in the end, I didn’t dare.
I didn’t know that she wouldn’t run to Elida—and most importantly, I didn’t know what Elida would do if she saw my sketchbook.
I said I’d go to eat but I didn’t. I went straight to the library. It was empty—the other Hands would still be bathing or eating—so I had time, peace, and quiet to find seven different books on magical objects before I sat at the end of the room in my recliner and began to read.
One of these books was bound to have a picture of the object I stole. If it didn’t, I had no other solution but to bring it back to Master Talik, and ask him to tell me what it was, and why I’d drawn it.
Because he knew something.
Everybody knows something, said Cheshire’s voice in my head, which reminded me to search for books on magical animals as well.
Specifically, ones who lived in timelines going backward.
(And had time ever gone backward before in the three-thousand years since Clockrealm’s creation?) There had to be someone who knew what kind of a cat the Cheshire was.
Most importantly, if it was real. Because chances were, he existed only in my head—and I wasn’t sure which answer I’d prefer.
I searched the two Timekeeper books first because it was only logical.
I’d found the device in Master Talik’s workshop, but out of all the objects and gears listed in the books, none resembled what I’d drawn even closely.
I’d taken it with me, had put it in my small backpack together with my sketchbook because I didn’t want to leave it in the room for fear someone might see it. I felt better that way.
When I became overwhelmed and needed a break, I spent time in March’s memory, the one where he worked the glass, where he felt happy, proud—such simple and uncomplicated emotions.
The way he twisted that rod to create. The way he knew how close to keep the glass to the fire to melt it exactly as he needed it. The way he trusted his own hands.
It calmed me down like nothing else, to be inside his head, and however that memory came to be mine, I was thankful right now.
As soon as my heartbeat returned to normal again, I picked up the third book on Timekeeper devices to go over, even though I was exhausted. Even though I could really use some sleep right now.
Even though my stomach was almost cramping every now and again—or was that just because I was expecting to be throwing up any second like the others?
Lida had been kind enough to offer me a plastic bag, too, to keep around, just in case.
I had it tucked in my backpack—I would rather throw up in it when the time came.
But before I reached for it to keep close, the library doors opened, and five Hands came inside.
March wasn’t with them—that’s all I could tell at first glance. I put the backpack away again, figuring it was better to just focus on the book. They would sit near the front of the room, like always, and once they settled, I could get more comfortable.
Except things didn’t exactly go as I planned.
“There she is,” said one of them—Russ, as he slowly dragged his feet to the middle of the library, and the others seemed to follow, just as soon as they put their things down on the coffee tables near the front.
My stomach twisted—this time it had nothing to do with throwing up.
“I thought she might be hiding in here,” said Levana, a clear, wide grin on her face as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.
They came closer, slowly.
I kept my eyes on the book, following the letters, reading, but I had no idea what any of it said. My hands hurt from how tightly I was gripping the covers. My instincts, my whole body knew exactly what was coming, even if my mind hadn’t caught up yet. Didn’t want to. Or was too overwhelmed.
“What do you think is wrong with her, anyhour?” said Anika.
“What do you think goes on in that strange head of hers?”
“Is it a Spade thing—huh, Cook? You seem normal enough…”
“My momma always says Spades are half buried even when they’re alive.”
“You know what I think? She’s just plain evil.”
“Maybe she’s the one who did the curse.”
“Maybe she’s the one who’s poisoned the whole timeline.”
My ears were burning. My forehead was sweating. My anger was rearing its head out, too, amidst all the chaos—anger toward myself first, and then them.
Did they not know that I didn’t know what was wrong with me?
“D’you think it’s worth offing her, just to see if it solves the problem?” Russ said.
I swallowed hard. Looked up at them where they stood, very close to the last shelf near where I sat.
Please go away, please, please, I prayed in vain.
“There’s something wrong with her eyes,” said Anika. “Have you seen how empty they are?”
And I thought, they see it, too.
“Have you seen how she just…doesn’t care?”
A tick of silence.
“Hey, weirdo. What in Time’s Temper is wrong with you?!” Levana’s voice rang in my ears.
That’s as much as I was willing to take. I knew that if I stayed there a second longer, I was going to say something, and it wasn’t going to serve me to pick a fight now. Not against all of them. Not when I was already in a bloody battle with myself.
So, I closed the book, put it in my backpack without really thinking if such a thing was even allowed. I left the rest of them there on the coffee table to sort out tomorrow—I needed to get out of here, right now, before things escalated.
The others continued to talk. I kept my head down, swung my backpack over my shoulder, my hands shaking. The five of them were there by the shelf, two on one side and three on the other. Plenty of space for me to go through and get to the other side as fast as my legs could carry me.
So, I did.
I should have gone all around them, to the other side of the reading tables, though. I should have just gone all around.
Because just when I thought I’d made it to the other side, a foot appeared out of nowhere in front of mine, and I saw it a split second too late. I couldn’t stop or step away.
The black boot hit mine just below the shin hard, and then the marble floor was getting closer and closer. I fell forward, too stunned to scream, to do anything but put my hands out.
Even that didn’t help. Whoever had kicked me was strong because it felt like I spun in the air at least once before I hit the floor on my side.
Pain shot up and down my body like lightning. My eyes were open, my backpack on the floor, the book, my sketchbook, even the throwing-up bag Lida had given me outside. I must have not done the zipper all the way in my panic.
Laughter around me.
My ears rang, but I pushed myself up with all my strength, shaking still. Anger made me see red, especially when I noticed Anika had my sketchbook in her hands—and she was taunting me with it, laughing as she held it up, mocking me.