I felt them vibrating in the air when they left her mouth, felt the way they seemed to push back her red, curly hair, felt the way theysettledon my skin, layered over it, taking the shape of me. Felt them sinking deep into my pores, mixing with my blood, etching themselves onto my very bones.
Inching closer and closer to my heart and mind…
“Obey, I say,” said the woman, and her voice this time was crystal clear. Her crown, gold and silver and full of precious stones on her head became visible when she pulled herself back away from me.
Then her fingertip pressed to my forehead lightning fast, and the pain began.
I screamed.
It was hot and it came all at once, and it was everywhere, in my chest and in my head. I screamed at the top of my lungs because there was nothing else to do, no other way to expel the words that had sunk inside my body, that were destroying me from within.
I screamed—but when my eyes opened, the only sound that left my lips was a gasp.
Sparetime save me, it was the queen.
TheRedQueen.
It was her—with the hair and the lips and the words she’d attacked me with. It was her and she’d beenright in front of me,and she’d touched my forehead with her fingertips.
“Calm down—it’s just me.”
That voice.
Breathe, Ora, breathe,my lungs begged.
Was I still dreaming?
“You didn’t show up for breakfast.”
I blinked hard and fast for a few seconds, and finally saw March sitting at the edge of the low table in front of me. I was still struggling to understand where I was.
“Here. I brought some food. Have some.”
Another blink, and two and three. There was a plate on the table near him with croissants and a bowl of jam, butter, and a blood-red apple.
“March,” I breathed because there was so much to say. Entirelytoomuch, and not enough of the right words for it.
He paused, looked at me, waited.
I saw the suspicion in his eyes. I knew he didn’t believe anything I said—and why would he? I didn’t believe my own self. I was a stranger to me, too.
“You okay?” he asked after a moment or two, and he forced the words out of him.
I’m not.But to say that would mean to saymoreafter, and how could I? “Yes.”
He looked down at the book on my lap, open still to a page on clockbeasts, the second biggest chronovores in the realm. There were drawings of them, too, on the page, and I knew what March was thinking. I knew what he was remembering—the backward trial.
“Are you sure?”
This time the best I could manage was a nod.
He nodded, too, then stood up from the table. “Don’t stay up too early.”
War inside my head again.
My lips opened to call for him, and my teeth clamped shut at the same time to stop the words before they came out.
Then I looked at the front of the room to see all the others were there, some with books on their laps, some hanging out around the low tables.
