And it sounded a lot like it, too.
“The Court of Hearts,” Levana then said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She was calmer now, though her eyes were still bloodshot from the crying. “We go home and find someone who will give us our memories back without the Red Queen.”
Master Talik opened his mouth to speak, to argue, but…no word came out.
I sat up straighter, tightened my grip around March’s hand, and he was no longer playing with my fingers, either.
“It’s doable,” Silas then said.
“Except where do you think we’ll findanyonewilling to try, when our own families have refused to tell us what happened just because of a royal decree?” Russ asked, and we all flinched.
“My mother won’t do it,” Levana muttered. “I begged her every day.”
“Our mothers don’t have half the power or Sparetime required for even one of us,” March said. “But it would have to be a Heart.”
“So, we’renotgoing to get our memories back, after all,” Cook said, and he just sounded exhausted.
“No, no—there has to be a way,” I said because it wasn’t enough. The story wasn’t enough. It didn’t really make much of a difference to me, knowing what had happened. I needed to remember it. “There has to be a way, right? There’s a way.”
Silence in the room, and every new second that turned found me more and more desperate.
“Talik,” Kohen whispered, and the gears in my stomach moved faster. “You know memory magic. You can?—”
“No,” Master Talik cut him off. “I couldn’t even begin to understand the complexity of uncovering memories. I mightknow how to extract one, barely, but this is beyond my capabilities.”
His every word rang true.
My eyes closed. Tears pricked the back of them, and I held my breath, and I held onto March’s hand, when?—
“But thereissomeone who might be able to do something. Someone I know.”
Back again—until when? Because this hope coming and going felt like it might just be the death of me.
“Who?” we asked, all of us at the same time, eyes wide open, fists tight.
“Vesta,” the Timekeeper said, which made Kohen raise his brows.
“She’s…old,” he whispered, and he didn’t mean it in agoodway, I didn’t think.
“Yes—and powerful. She used to work in Neverwhen years ago. Even in the Labyrinth for the twenty-eighth trials, I think.” He scratched his chin. “She’s…a friend. We’ve kept in touch. I believe she could be persuaded to try.”
Persuaded,he said. It was more than enough for me.
“Let’s do it.”
“Are you sure about this, Talik?” Kohen asked reluctantly.
And the Timekeeper turned to his friend, almost surprised at the question. “No, actually. I am not.” Then he looked at us, one by one, and his eyes stopped on Silas. “But it is entirelytheirdecision if they want to risk it.”
“Yes,” most of us said at the same time, and those who didn’t say it, nodded it. It wasn’t even a decision.
Master Talik arched a gray brow. “You don’t know what you’re really sayingyesto.”
“And you don’t know what it’s like to have your memories taken from you,” March said, as if he’d plucked the words from my mind like flowers.
“There are risks. Big risks,” said Master Talik. “You couldbe caught. Going to any court right now if you don’t want to be found is ludicrous. And even if we do manage it, there’s no guarantee that Vesta will agree to it, and-and-andeven if she does—there’s no guarantee that she’ll be able to do anything.”
“There’s one moreeven if,isn’t there,” Silas said with a half roll of his eyes, and the old Timekeeper lost it.
