Chapter 27
The inside of the house was just as messy as the garden—but in a very aesthetic way.
If I were to say that Vesta had spent her eighty-three years accumulating things and never throwing any of them away, I would probably be right.
Books on every surface—stacked on tables, piled on chairs, lining the walls in shelves that bowed under their weight.
Dried flowers hung from the ceiling in bundles.
Crystals and stones and small glass bottles filled with colored liquids crowded the windowsills.
The whole place smelled of tea and dried lavender and old paper, and it was so warm I was sweating ten seconds in. I pulled the cloak off my shoulders, and so did everyone else.
Vesta didn’t speak to us at all. She led us to a room at the back instead, larger than the first, with a round table in the center and enough mismatched chairs for half of us. The rest leaned against walls or sat on the floor.
Silence.
This room had shelves full of glass containers and jars and boxes full of herbs and strange looking liquids, too. I’d think it was a kitchen, but there were no appliances.
Vesta sat at the very head, lips turned downward, never even glancing at Master Talik who sat on her left, but tracing the faded turquoise flowers drawn on the tabletop. They were pretty, though faded. Half of what they used to be.
Like me.
“So,” the woman finally said, pulling her red shawl tighter over her shoulders like she was cold. “The Hands of the thirty-first Turning Trials.” Most of us flinched under her gaze. “I watched you on the screens, you know. Both times.”
Nobody really knew what to say to that, so we just kept our mouths shut.
“You were very brave,” she said, which was odd because she looked like she was about to say—“And very stupid.”
Yep, that.
Then she sighed. “But mostly brave.” A look at Master Talik sitting with his head down. “You’re sure about this? You’re sure it’s a veil and not an extraction?”
Master Talik opened his mouth to speak, but I said, “We are,” together with a few others.
I was very sure that the memories I missed were there, hidden in my mind somewhere. I just couldn’t reach them.
Vesta nodded, then her eyes moved to Silas who sat across from me, next to Master Talik. Studied him.
Something passed across her face, but it was gone too soon so I had no idea what she was thinking.
The tension in the air grew.
“All right.”
Vesta looked like she was settling as she adjusted her shawl and fidgeted in her seat and cleared her throat about a dozen times.
“All right. Since you’re already here, I might as well give it a go.
” Her hands had been under the table, and when she brought them up again, she brought a chronobank with—a proper Timekeeper Clock.
It was fancy—golden with silver engravings, as big as the palm of my hand, and with a cover, too. She pressed the button on the edge and it popped open, but it faced her so we couldn’t see how much Sparetime she had in there. Probably a lot.
“You’re lucky I owe a debt to this old fool,” she muttered under her breath. “Unlucky for me. I thought death would find me first, but I should’ve known.” She shook her head. Tsk-ed under her breath. “Should have known.”
“Death is terrified of you still, my friend,” said Master Talik with a warm smile that had transformed his face completely. “And this old fool appreciates you very much.”
She looked at him, and it was clear to see the fondness she felt, but then she rolled her eyes for show.
“I’m not promising any of you anything. I haven’t done memory work in years, and even when I did, I never tried to undo magic done by someone stronger than me.” She stopped. Looked at us. “Simply because there was no such thing when I was younger.”
A grin. It made us all chuckle.
“Still—this is probably going to fail. You understand that?”
Painful, but yes. We understood, so we nodded.
“Good. My mother used to say low expectations are the foundation of all happiness." She cracked her knuckles and the sound made me wince. “Now. Who’s first?”
Silence.
We looked at each other, and my mouth opened to volunteer—what could really happen, anyhour?
But Levana beat me to it by standing up. “I’ll go first. Me. Let’s get this over with.”
“Good. A Heart. Brave—as you should be,” she said in an approving nod, then looked at Master Talik. “She’ll have your seat.”
Pursing his lips, Master Talik stood up and went by the wall, and Levana sat right next to Vesta.
“Beautiful, too,” the woman said, reaching her hands for Levana’s. The girl beamed.
“Thank you,” she said, pushing her long, thick hair over her shoulder.
“Impatient, if I had to guess.”
Levana arched a brow. “I don’t like wasting time.”
The woman nodded. “Tell me, are you bonded, girl?”
The question took Levana by surprise (me, too, though only because I didn’t know what she meant.) “I…no,” said Levana.
“You’ve never bonded?”
“Of course not,” Levana snapped, her cheeks bright red—which begged the question, what in Time’s Teeth was bonding? I didn’t even get the chance to ask. “I haven’t…I haven’t—I wouldn’t even know how. I’m too young for—”
Vesta’s laughter cut her off. “Your magic—it’s intact, yes? You can still feel?”
“Feel what?”
“Emotions, girl. Other people’s emotions. You’re a Heart—you should be able to sense them. Read them. Has that been affected at any point in your life by anything?”
Levana hesitated. Glanced at us, then back at Vesta. “I don’t think so. I can mostly tell when people are lying, or when they’re afraid or angry. It’s not...precise. Like I said—I’m too young. I’m only eighteen.” She said it defensively, which then made Vesta smile.
“Too young,” she repeated, like Levana had said something delightful.
“My dear girl, no Heart is too young. To feel emotions—to bond is your birthright. It lives in your blood, in all Heart blood. Nobody could take it away if they tried—things like it exist beyond even Time’s reach.
” Goose bumps spread over my arms. “You could be six years old, and the magic would answer if you called it,” she said.
It was obvious Levana didn’t know what to feel right now, and I couldn’t wait to ask what bonding was.
“Not that I’d recommend it at six. You’d probably try it with your favorite blanket—or worse, your imaginary friend!”
Laughter, and it came straight from the heart.
Levana’s mouth twitched into an almost smile. “I guess I’ve never been taught,” Levana said. “Nobody in my family has ever done it, I think. Father says it’s old-fashioned.”
Something told me that that was the most Levana had ever talked about herself before.
Of course, I could be wrong.
“Old-fashioned.” This time, when Vesta repeated the words, she looked like she’d tasted something sour.
“Old-fashioned is wearing last season’s shoes.
A bond could never be old-fashioned. It is the single most sacred tradition the Court of Hearts has ever produced, and the fact that younger generations treat it like some dusty relic in a museum makes me want to live another eighty-three years just to give you all a piece of my mind. Hmph.”
How in the world was she eighty-three? She had fire, I tell you. She was fierce.
And when she squeezed Levana’s hands, the girl winced.
“The bond is not a spell or a ritual to memorize—and it’s most definitely not old-fashioned. It’s a choice. The deepest choice a Heart can make.”
My tongue had remained in my mouth for too long, so I said, “What’s a bond?” Really, I had to know. I couldn’t wait. I just couldn’t.
Vesta gave me a smile, and it warmed me to my bones, even more so than the air in her house.
“Oh, it is the most fascinating thing,” she said, and she was talking to all of us now, but she never once let go of Levana’s hands.
“You see, when a Heart loves someone truly, with everything they are, they bind themselves to their loved ones by giving away a memory. Not just any—but a precious one, one that matters. One that they would carry to the Everstill if they could.”
Everybody was so mesmerized by the way she spoke that when she stopped to take a breath, nobody moved a single inch. It was so quiet I could hear the clock ticking in the other room.
“It’s easy as pie, I tell you. I should know—I’ve bonded three times,” she said and finally brought one hand to her chest. “You just find the memory inside yourself. Hold it—whatever it is, the joy or the pain or the love, and you feel the edges of it, and then you let it go.” She shrugged.
Smiled so big her eyes glistened. “Not from your head but from your chest. You pull it out—like you would a thread from a tapestry, then you give it to the other person, and it stays with them forever.”
Something about what she said.
Imagines spun in my head, too faded, so blurry, but they were there. I almost saw them. Almost.
“Does it…does it hurt?” Levana asked in a whisper.
“Oh, no, child—no. It will feel like light. Like warmth leaving your body. A friend of mine once described it as a thread of light. Some will tell you it’s like pulling honey from a jar—but it is not painful in the least.”
Light, spinning, threading. Needles moving up and down.
Memories.
Time’s Teeth, it was like the whole house was suddenly balancing on my very shoulders, and I didn’t even know why.
“You must remember, though, that you lose the memory you give forever. That’s the price.
” Vesta said. “Your memory is gone from you the moment it enters them. You will know that you gave something, but you won’t remember what it was.
It’s why it’s so important to choose wisely who you bond to.
You’re giving them a piece of yourself that you will never get back.
You’re trusting them to carry something that you loved enough to let go of. ” And she winked.
The rest of us weren’t even breathing.
Holy Hour, I felt so much more than those words should have made me feel. I saw so much light and the color red and even heard music.
Such strange, strange music…
“Now.”
I blinked, and a chime rang in my ears, like something from a long, long time ago.
Air filled my lungs and I looked at the others, and they all must have felt the same because they looked like they were just waking up from a deep sleep, too.
Time’s Temper, how had she done that to all of us? Or was it just…us? Something we didn’t remember?
“Let’s try to find what was done to your mind, shall we?”
Her hands were small, skin covered in darker age spots, but her grip was firm. Vesta closed her eyes without another word, and Levana closed hers, too. The tension she felt was evident in her jaw, the way her nostrils flared with each breath.
The room went very still.
Most of us were still locked in our own minds, going over everything Vesta said, trying to figure out why it hit us the way it did, but that was okay. Because for a long time, nothing happened.
The Heart woman sat with Levana’s hands in hers, her brow furrowed, her lips pressed together. It was a while before her expression changed. Very subtly—a tightening around her eyes, a slight parting of her lips. Her fingers tightened on Levana’s, and we only noticed because she gasped.
“Oh, dear…” Vesta whispered.
“What?” Levana opened her eyes. “What—what is it? Did you find something?”
“Sshhh.” Vesta’s eyes stayed closed. Her expression changed as if she were cycling through different emotions every few seconds—surprise, focus, confusion, fear.
And then something that looked very much like awe.
“This is extraordinary,” she finally breathed, and finally her eyes opened.
“What? What’s extraordinary?” Levana demanded, leaning forward now.
Vesta let go of her hands and sat back in her chair, looked at Master Talik, and she was shaken. Genuinely, deeply shaken.
Then she nodded, only barely. “This is the queen’s work, all right,” she said. “It’s the most intricate memory magic I have ever felt in my life—and I have felt a great deal.”
Nobody breathed for a long moment, and we all hung onto what she’d say next.
“It’s not an extraction,” she continued, a hand to her chest, the other closing the lid of her Timekeeper Clock. “The memories are indeed all there. Perfectly intact, perfectly preserved. She sealed them with her own signature.”
They’re there, they’re there, they’re there! cheered the thoughts in my head, like I’d had doubts without realizing it, and I only found out now when I felt all that relief, but…
“So can you undo it?” Levana urged her. She looked on the brink of tears right now. Most of us were.
Vesta didn’t hesitate. “No,” she said. “I cannot.”
My eyes closed. Tears pricked the back of them, but I focused on the hot air going down my throat. Held it for a second, then exhaled slowly. Squeezed March’s hand with all my strength.
“The magic is keyed to the caster,” Vesta explained.
“Every thread of it is woven with her magic, her very blood.” She paused.
Looked at her own hands, then back at Levana.
“I can feel your memories, dear girl, but that’s all I can do.
Only the woman who hid them from you can give them back. I am powerless.”
She said it like she was surrendering. Like she was…defeated.
“So, that’s it,” March said, his voice thick. “Only the Red Queen can give us our memories back.”
Every gear in my body malfunctioned. My heart skipped beats and my lungs refused to fill.
“Yes,” Vesta said, delivering another blow to my chest. “Only the Red Queen.”