“How’s it looking? How’s it looking? Are they ready? Let me see…”
That voice.
It was harsh and sharp, annoying, mostly because it lackedwarmth.It was too fast, too loud—and the person who owned it was the visual representation of it as well.
Johnny the speaker had found us in the main hallway of The Ever, suited up and barely holding our insides in before we set off for the fourth and final trial.
It was time. We’d already gone through most of the Turning Trials. Today was the last.
Bile rose up my throat anew.
“Hello, Johnny,” Calren said with a forced smile. “You’re supposed to be out there preparing, are you not?” He even tried to step in front of him so Johnny couldn’t get to us, but he easily moved to the side, his smile big, his eyes just the same as last time—brown, almost black, and perfectly round like most things about him. He wore a deep green suit this time, though, and that made his skin look a bit gray.
“I’m plenty prepared,” he said with a wave of his hand. Inthe other was his device—round and as big as my fist, covered in some sort of a metal mesh. “Besides—I wanted to see how the Hands are doing.”
“They’re doing fine. You shouldn’t have bothered. As their warden, it’s my job to make sure they’re ready,” Calren insisted, rolling his eyes behind him so that we could see.
A few of us even cracked a smile—he had been trying to lighten up the mood all morning throughout breakfast. It hadn’t really worked, though. We were too full offeelingsalready—happy and sad, impatient and reluctant, panicked and desperate to get this over with and leave.
At the same time, who was to say whatleavingreally would look like?
I was eleven-hours certain neither of us was going to like it.
“Of course, of course. I’m not here for your job, Calren—relax.” Johnny’s grin. Thedirtyquality of his voice—or maybe that was just his teeth?
Calren couldn’t help himself this time.Thismurderous look he gave Johnny did make me smile a little.
“Let me see—ah, yes. Twelve Hands. All perfectly healthy,” Johnny said, and we tried to pretend he wasn’t even there, but it was impossible when he got up to our faces like that.
March, who was standing beside me since we’d come out of our rooms, said, “Way too deep in her personal space. Please move, Timekeeper,” when Johnny was in front of me, but the speaker only laughed, like he thought March was being funny.
He wasn’t.
I looked up at him to saythanksand my stomach did a flip. We’d stayed together until Lida had come to knock on my door. Then he had to go get ready in his own room. Of course, Lida had tried to interrogate me on our relationship, but I insisted that he’d just come over in the morning to talkabout a dream. It was close enough to a real occurrence, I figured.
Then she’d insisted that she wanted to see my drawings, too, like she was suddenly curious to see if I was any good—but the suspicious look in her eyes spoke volumes. That’s why I’d ended up hiding my sketchbook underneath the mattress when she went to the bathroom to prepare my bath, so she didn’t see it, and hopefully forgot all about it by the time we left the room.
Because I wasnotabout to tell her anything that wasn’t her business. Not my drawings, not about March—and especially not about the tiny mushroom he’d given me before he left.
It was a small thing made out of what he calledheartbone, which could have easily been white marble. His sister had given it to him when he left home for the Turning Trials, and it was meant to keep him safe. He said he wanted meto have it only until we met again outside of the Labyrinth—when he came to see me, or I came to see him, or we met somewhere in the middle of the realm—it didn’t matter. I was to keep it safe for the next time we were together, and I promised that I would.
The emptiness inside me was so much less empty with March, and it was also a reminder. I couldn’t wait to get out of here already and get my whole self back, but I couldn’t wait to meet March beyond those fences more.
Soon.
I’d saved the mushroom in the nightstand of my room together with Jinx’s picture. Those—and my sketchbook—would be the first things I went for when the trial was over and we were free to go. I’d hold onto that little thing until we met again no matter what.
“You.”
The sharp, cold voice of the speaker startled me andpulled me back to the now. He’d stopped in front of Silas, had raised a chubby finger to his face.
“There’s something odd about you,” he said, which didn’t surprise me one bit.
Silas was grinning, though. “There’s something odd about all of us. We all chose to be here willingly,” he simply said.
“Yes, I suppose applying to be a Hand of the Turning Trials is enough to prove you’re…” Johnny grinned and it was pure evil. “Not well in the head,” he concluded. “Oh, but wait till you see this last trial.You just wait.”
“Do you know what it is?” Mimi asked in half a voice.
