The silhouette of the other two people near him caughtmyattention, except I couldn’t see them because my eyes were not my own, and they remained on the man as he said something, something that didn’t quite reach my ears as it should. The sound of him was warped, as if my head was underwater when it wasn’t. All I heard with clarity was the loud beating of a heart—was it mine?
Was it the heart of the body I was in?
Hard to say.
Then the man saw me coming, and he straightened up, and I no longer breathed again because it was March. A different March. An older March with stubble on his cheeks and eyes slightly rounded and lips a bit thinner and body built differently. His eyes were bloodshot, though. His hair—straight—was all over the place, darker.
It wasn’t March at all—Iwas in March’s memory—but it had to be someone close. Brother or maybe father?
He turned, the man, for a split second, and then I was in front of him, the two other people behind me, one still screaming even though the sound that reached me was almost completely muted.
A knife flashed, the blade big, silver.
My arm rose—no, March’s arm rose, and I felt it as though it was my own. I felt his heartbeat, too, freezing for a split second, and I felt his fear. Raw fear. Raw anger. Raw disappointment.
The man brought the knife down and drove it straight into March’s forearm.
The pain paralyzed me completely. In my head, it cut off my own scream, too. Blood dripped down his skin that was mine, and March’s eyes didn’t move from the tip of that blade, so that’s the only thing I saw, too.
Then I fell for a long time down a never-ending hole that opened just below my feet.
13
The sounds around me were getting clearer and clearer the more aware I became of myself. I had a mind full of thoughts and a heart beating frantically and veins full of rushing blood.
I had arms and legs and feet to stand on, and somehow Iwas. Somehow, I had balance to stand without really even thinking about it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the first Turning Trial is over! I repeat—the first Turning Trial is officially over! All the Hands have won the challenge!”
Johnny’s voice slipped into my ears and pushed back every other thought for a second.
How curious that I understood exactly what he was saying when it felt like I hadn’t understoodanythingin so long.
Over. The first trial was over. All the Hands had won the challenge.
All ofuswere out of the ballroom.
A new wave of energy crashed over me. My eyes blinkedand blinked until the lights around me became brighter, and I began to make out my surroundings.
The other Hands were there, indeed—all of them, and next to me stood March in his red suit, my mask in his hand still. His in mine.
The others all stood in pairs around us, pale, disoriented, none smiling. Just…watching. Mostly the audience that was screaming and clapping and throwing roses that didn’t even reach halfway to where we stood.
Which wasoutsidethe dome.
The White Queen was there, too—the Red Queen in her box, standing, clapping her hands. The night was bright, the two screens behind the audience showingour faces, moving from one to the other, even though I saw no caster near me. They were able to use magic and light-catchers to transmit images in real time, but they had to beneartheir subjects to do that, didn’t they?
I didn’t see them, though, just like I didn’t see Johnny. Only heard his voice as he repeated over and over again thatit was over.
Then…
“Well done, my little tickers, well done!”
The White Queen was indeed in front of us, clapping her hands, her icy lips stretched ear to ear. She looked happy, genuinely happy, yet I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Because something was wrong inside me.
Something was…missing.
