Chapter 31
Elida sat us down. Our table was behind us, just as long as that of the queens on the opposite side of the perfectly square floor that was now somehow up in the sky, almost halfway up the tower of the Great Clock.
The sky was getting lighter and lighter as the sun slowly revealed itself in the west, about to unset again for… how many days now?
I couldn’t think straight enough to count because the guests sat down, and we did, too, all around the table—and we were in the air.
The entire square piece of floor had somehow risen in the air, and we were high enough that we couldn’t even see the palace from here, only the edge of the fences that surrounded the Labyrinth.
It was madness, just like everything else in this place. Madness, yet I couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop searching with my eyes, couldn’t focus on a single thing for the life of me.
I was scared of heights, always had been. Jinx used to love to climb the oaks near the lake and go all the way to the top, but I preferred the middle. It was much more comfortable that way—but this was higher than any tree we’d ever climbed.
Others sat beside me. Black dots were in my vision no matter how hard I blinked.
I could have sworn that there was music being played somewhere close by, too, and the table in front of us wasn’t covered by the white and red tablecloth completely, I realized.
Instead, the cloth seemed to be glued to the edges only, for whatever reason.
The wooden top was engraved with these strange lines all over instead.
Roses, red and white. Candles, red and white, burning in silver and golden holders. Glasses, empty, two in front of each of us.
Then a shadow fell over my side.
“Move.”
March’s voice—but he wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to Cook who’d been sitting on my right.
If Cook said something, I didn’t hear it, but I felt it when March took his place, sat down at my side, and pulled his chair in closer until his elbows rested on the edge of the table.
March. He was near me. He was here.
All the others were here, too, and I was okay.
I could breathe. I was sitting.
March is right here.
A long, loud breath slipped out of me.
“Do that again.”
His voice was barely a whisper and it traveled into my ears, bypassed all other voices and sounds with ease.
A hand on my thigh—my very naked thigh because of that slit of the dress.
Sparetime save me, I didn’t mind it one bit. In fact, I put all my focus on the warmth slowly slipping under my skin, imagined it melting away the fear…
“Do it. Breathe deeply, then let go slowly,” March said again, and I did. No need to think or wonder—I just breathed until I was no longer shaking.
Then his hand was gone, under the table, back on his own lap.
The cold found me right away, but I was more in control already.
I held onto the edges of my scarf and pulled it closer, covered my shoulders with it all the way.
It was chilly outside, though heat seemed to be coming from below us—from the very tiles.
I blinked and nothing disrupted my vision anymore.
“You okay?
March was still there, looking at me without really turning his head, as if he didn’t want anybody to see.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Thank you.”
“Afraid of heights?”
“A little.” A lot. “You?”
“I don’t mind them,” he said, then looked up, to our left, to where the sun had just started to unset.
“Guys, is this real? Somebody pinch me,” said Anika from across the table, shaking, but also with a strange smile on her face.
The other side were sitting with their backs turned to the edge of the floor, which was barely just five feet away, and I couldn’t decide whether I should move there to turn my back to the view or stick to my chair until I got used to it.
“Nobody pinch me,” Levana said. “I want to see this so badly…” and she rearranged her chair to face the unsetting sun without batting a lash.
“Remember to breathe,” March whispered near my ear again, and it was like my body was really at his command.
I breathed and I looked at his profile, the way his hair pulled back revealed more of his face than I’d seen since we woke up here.
But I still knew his hairline, every curve of it.
The shape of his earlobe. The sharp edge of his jawline.
I’d drawn it all before.
“Time’s Teeth, how are we up here?” Mimi whispered from my other side.
“It’s the Labyrinth. This entire place is a machine,” Russ said. “I can’t see underneath, but I can guarantee something’s holding us up. Possibly a large steel pillar.” He wasn’t fazed by the height in the least, either.
“But why?” asked Seth with a dumbfounded smile on his face as he looked at the unsetting sun. “This is wicked, I’m not complaining—but why?”
“Why not?” Helen said, eyes sparkling as she, too, stared at the sky. They all did, and I was tempted, and it was beautiful to witness indeed, but the sky wasn’t giving me any courage. The sky wasn’t reminding me to breathe.
I kept my eyes on March.
“Control,” he suddenly said, and some of the others looked at him, too, for a moment. “This is how she keeps control of the whole thing. Nobody comes or goes anywhere without her knowing. Everybody’s clearly within her sight. Nothing happens here without her seeing it.”
Smiles faded.
“Who?” asked Levana from across the table. “The…the Red Queen?”
Nobody answered. Instead, we all turned to look at the table across from us, at the Red Queen who had a glass filled with red liquid in her hand—and was looking right at us.
To see those dark eyes turned our way again made chills rush down my back, and I wasn’t the only one. Every Hand turned to the sky, terrified because we all remembered. We all saw, even if it was in a dream.
Yes, that woman had definitely been in our heads somehow. It was the same face, the same expression, the same energy as in that nightmare. And now I was dying to find out what she’d done.
“We’re safe here,” March said after a moment, low enough so that only I heard it. “So long as everyone can see everything, we’re safe.” And he dragged his chair to the side a little bit to look behind at the floor.
Absentmindedly, I did, too.
There was so much more around us that I’d realized.
The tables of the guests were spread on either side of ours and the queens’, and beyond them on the left was what looked like a bar.
It was small, maybe ten feet long in total, and two people were on the other side of the white counter topped with red roses everywhere.
There were waiters and waitresses in front of it, standing with empty trays in one hand, the other arm hidden behind their backs, waiting.
Across from them, beyond the guest tables to my right was the band.
Three people played instruments while standing on their own raised platform, almost as high as that of the queens.
A woman with dark hair that fell like a silk curtain in front of half her face played a golden harp beautifully, while one of the men behind her blew on a silver flute, and the other with snow-white hair cropped short played a violin.
The music was slow, cheerful and sad at the same time, and it followed the rhythm of seconds perfectly, yet it sounded…strange. Not wrong, only unusual. I couldn’t figure out why, though.
And then there were the guests.
Most of them were looking at us as they spoke to one another, smiling openly, raising their glasses at us. They seemed to be having the time of their lives.
“They’re noblemen and noblewomen,” Helen said. “I recognize the Retkins—they’re cousins of a friend of mine. They handle the queen’s investment funds.”
Following her eyes, I saw who she was looking at—a couple with dark brown, reddish hair cut close to their chins (both of them), the man with gold-rimmed glasses hanging on the bridge of his crooked nose, the woman playing with the many golden chains around her neck as she watched us and whispered in the man’s ear.
“I don’t recognize any of them, so I’ll believe it,” Seth said. “They seem uptight enough.”
“Stinking rich,” said Russ. “Look at them—finest velvet and silk and cotton. They’re all loaded.”
“They’re the ones who keep the Labyrinth oiled and running.”
Elida’s voice made us all jump a little and turn to where she had simply appeared at the left end of the table.
She was smiling still, and she tapped the tabletop twice. “Hands off now. Food’s coming.”
A sharp noise of metal hitting glass—hard and without breaking it—made us all turn back toward the queens once more to find the White Queen on her feet, knife tapping against the side of her crystal glass furiously until every set of eyes on the floor was on her.
“Let the Backward Banquet begin!”
All at once, the floor groaned, and that same fist clenched in my gut, squeezing everything inside me.
I held my breath as the table in front of us began to vibrate.
I’d assumed that the faint circles that marked the tabletop were just random engravings, but they cracked open right before our eyes—wood panels sliding aside, shifting under and away.
In front of each chair, two quarters of those circles slid open, revealing dishes that slowly rose from within. They were full of cake.
The pieces spun and clicked seamlessly back into place before we could blink, and the waiters were upon us next. They filled our glasses without asking what we wanted, and left crystal jugs all over the table with different kinds of liquid inside.
It all happened as if I were in a dream as the sun slowly unset and the sky turned brighter, the music louder, the chatter around us livelier.
Before we knew it, we were talking, wondering how they did this and how they brought the food up here through the tables, and I was no longer having trouble breathing, but I was just so intensely curious to know exactly how this whole thing worked.
It went on for a few minutes, and I even grabbed a piece of chocolate cake to try—I was that distracted all of a sudden, and the sun was in my eyes, and nothing seemed all that bad just then. Nothing seemed as scary and as terrifying as I’d thought.
Until March made to stand.
I swear I thought my heart would leave my ribcage with him if he went to sit somewhere else. That’s why I reached out and grabbed his wrist before I realized it.
“Stay.” The word slipped from me suddenly, too. Couldn’t catch it if I tried.
March looked down at me, halfway standing still, then at my hand around his wrist. The grin he gave me rivaled the sun.
I let go of him and tried to compose myself, but it was too late. He could probably see the natural blush of my cheeks peeking through the makeup.
“I’ve always wanted to be treated like a dog,” March said, and the tips of my ears went red next as his shoulders shook a little with silent laughter.
“Relax. I’m just grabbing some wine.” He stood up again and he only reached for the jug full of red liquid near the golden candleholder, the candles atop which had been blown out by the other Hands when the sun unset halfway.
Plenty of light—and the temperatures were rising, too.
The silk scarf had fallen down to my elbows, and I didn’t mind.
“Okay, everyone. Who wants to get shitfaced and see whom we can convince to take a leap of faith…down there?” March nodded his head toward the edge of the floor, and my stomach actually flipped at the thought, even though I knew he was kidding.
The rest of the Hands cheered and held up their glasses for him to fill.
I did, too. Never been much a drinker, but Jinx and I had tasted our parents’ wine a few times.
It wasn’t too bad, and since I was obviously not going to be able to sneak out of here halfway through the party like I first thought, I might as well drink.
“Careful, no more than a glass each!”
Elida, who was sitting at a round table near us with a few other guests who pretended they were sitting there alone, jumped to her feet when she saw March pouring wine and came to warn us.
“Of course, of course—just one,” the others told her. She obviously wasn’t convinced, but after hanging around at the edge of the table for a moment, she had no choice but to go back to her seat, watching us all the way.
The others raised their glasses. Cheered. Drank.
I joined in, except I felt like a robot. Like I felt nothing, only went through the motions, copied what they did, and hoped to fit in.
I didn’t, though. Whatever was or wasn’t inside me wouldn’t let me.
Still, I drank.
The wine was sweeter than I expected, so much better than anything I’d drunk with Jinx.
I drank a couple of sips only by the time March was done with his first glass.
He was guarded, his shoulders rigid, and he continuously looked around, fidgeted in his seat but never forgot to laugh and nod at something the others said.
I wasn’t completely relaxed, either, no matter how much I tried to pretend that we were on the ground, not high up in the sky on a piece of floor made of tiles, possibly being held by some sort of steel hand.
When we were done with the cakes, the tables opened again, pieces slid in and out, and dishes full of the main course were in front of us. Waiters came and replaced our glasses and jugs with new ones, too.
It was so surreal because the sun was climbing back higher and higher in the sky, and the moon had completely faded, and we were still there.
The Great Clock was stuck at eight-thirteen, but right now nobody seemed to mind.
I didn’t mind, either, though I looked up at it every few minutes, as if to remind myself that we were still part of the real world.
For a while there, it was…okay. It was fun, even.
I had more than half a glass of wine and my head buzzed lightly.
March never stood up from his chair and I was completely comfortable eventually.
The others didn’t call me names right now and didn’t look at me like they hated me (except maybe for Levana every now and again).
It was peaceful—a more peaceful dinner than any other I’d had since I’d woken up here.
Then came the guests.