“The molds,” I said, and for a moment, the others stopped talking. I reached for the triangular molds that he’d brought for us on the tray, took one while I counted the others. “There are twelve molds for the twelve of us.” I swallowed hard, looked up at the host, but he wasn’t interested in what I was saying. He was spinning around in place, humming still, dancing. “I think we’re supposed to each make our own slice.” Because why else would he give ustwelve molds?
“They fit,” said Seth from across the table, placing one of the triangles into the big cake mold over the oven. It did fit, indeed.
Suddenly everyone gathered to do the same, and it worked perfectly.All twelve triangles fit into the cake mold.
This wasit.It had to be. I looked up at March and at Seth, and at Silas, and they all seemed to be of the same mind. We were supposed to make our own slices to make the full cake. There was no other way.
So we got to work.
My hands shook as I waited for the teapot to pass hands after hands. Then the sugar and the flour, too.
Lastly, we all waited for the whisk to mix in the ingredients—that’s why the whisk is so small!said an excited voice in my head.
I didn’t think about how I looked. I didn’t even look at any of the others in the face anymore because it didn’t matter that they had wrinkles. It didn’t matter that I was older. I felt the same, didn’t I?
On the inside, I felt the same panic. My excitement had the same flavor. Everything was going to be all right, just as soon as we baked this cake.
These were the only things that kept my panic drowned out for a little longer.
Everyone was done whisking, but none of the Hands volunteered to put the cake in the oven this time. I was impatient, so impatient to get away from here, to not see the face of the host as he watched us now, smiling that sick smile. And those sick eyes—I wanted them off me. So I made to grab the mold, but a bigger hand than mine grabbed it first.
March.
He came all around the table, never once meeting my eyes. Half terrified and half relieved, I opened the oven for him, reminding myself that it was the right way to win this game. Ithadto be.
March leaned in and put the mold into the oven withouthesitation. My knees trembled as I stepped back with everyone else, our wide eyes, our hands fisted.
Even the host was no longer spinning and humming and dancing.
Waiting for the next second to pass was like carrying a mountain on my shoulders. My palms were bloody from my own fingernails cutting into my skin.
A moment ticked by, then another.
Everyone had gathered on our side of the table now, and all our eyes were stuck on that little window of the oven. We all watched as the batter rose and rose and rose.
Slower this time, though,slower—which was why it gave me hope. Which was why nobody had started crying yet.
Then the table began to shake again.
42
Wrinkles.
So many wrinkles on my hands, and I didn’t dare search for a reflection, didn’t dare try to look at my face. But I could see plenty on the others’ faces. I could see plenty on March.
He’d aged at least twenty years. Even the hair around his temples had turned gray. There were wrinkles, deep ones around his eyes, and the laugh lines around his mouth were perfectly pronounced. The light in his eyes had dimmed, too—or maybe it was just the panic making me see things.
The others were the same. Gray hair, crepey skin, wrinkles everywhere, as well as tears and snot and bloodshot eyes.
How in the Everstill were they doing this to us?! Our Life Clocks had lost ten minutes, too.How?! How could the Labyrinth make us age like this within seconds, just because we couldn’t bake a cake the right way?!
Time’s Teeth, I was losing it. I was losing my mind. This wasmadness!
Host Ticktock laughed and laughed as he came aroundthe table again, opened the oven and pulled the mold out, just like last time. He continued dancing and spinning as he went back to his place.
“Wrong, wrong, wrong!” he sang. “If every slice’s a different hour, how can a time-cake not go sour?”
Suddenly Silas was on him.
