Of course, when you’ve lost—not only four weeks’ worth of memories, but half, if not more, of what you used to be, and when you had voices and faces and strange thoughts in your head you only barely recognized, there was no such thing aspeace.
No, her peace was buried in the memories she couldn’t access, and the world was so cruel to continue living while she was stuck.
For a moment, she wondered if she ran all the way to the edge of the realm and fell down The Spill, if the nightmare would end.
For a moment, she wondered if the other former Hands were faring better, if one of them had remembered anything—and if maybe it was a better idea to run all the wayto themso they could tell her what she didn’t remember instead.
Because the Club girl was so sure that shewouldreach all those memories beyond that veil of darkness in her mind, ifsomeone only told her what she was looking for. She was twelve-hours certain she would then catch those memories at last.
She reached the end of the neighborhood that was separated from the next quadrant by a small forest she’d been in hundreds of times before. She touched the bark of a tree and tried to lean in to rest for a second, but something flashed in her mind at the contact. Something about trees and danger and magic andrun-run-run!—so she moved away again, closed her eyes, breathed.
Thought that maybe it was time to try.
Maybe it was time to search for the names of the other Clubs who’d been in the Turning Trials with her—though she only rememberedoneboy with green on his suit that day when they woke up in Neverwhen.
In fact, there’d been only nine of them there, when everybody knew that there were twelve Hands in the Turning Trials.
Which begged the question, where were the other three?
Which begged the question, how in the world was it possible to forget weeks and weeks, and for time to go backward, and for the queens to never once evenspeakto her before they shoved that scroll in her hands and sent her back home?
A long sigh escaped her, and she tried to think of Luna’s smiling face to calm her racing heart. Rowan was right—she was worried. Her parents were worried, too.
None more thanshe,though.
Even so, she still needed to be home to make sure Luna had slept.
But just before she turned to get back to town, she heard a noise—like a twig snapping under someone’s foot.
She was sure it would be Rowan, that he’d followed her,that he’d insist he would never let go of her no matter what she’d become, but…
Then she noticed the shadows.
It was dark near the edges of her neighborhood, but never unsafe. There were no such things ascrimesin the Court of Clubs, not like they heard about in other courts, so the former Hand had no reason to be afraid, even though she could make out the shadows of two men on the ground in front of her.
Which meant they were standing right behind her.
The shadows were wider, shorter, neither of them Rowan, and by now she felt their presence clearly. They were close,tooclose, and something twisted in her gut.
She turned and planned to move farther back to give herself space while she turned the men away—they probably wanted to introduce themselves, like most everyone in the court since she’d come back from Neverwhen.
“Mimi Montes?”
The voice was thick, hoarse, definitely that of a stranger—a stranger that wore a hood that covered half his face, left only his lips and chin visible.
“I don’t have time for this,” the former Hand said and took a step back, prepared to start running, but…
The other man had a hood over his head, too, covering him almost completely.
Almost—but there was stubble around his chin, around his lips, and even though it was dark, she could have sworn it wasorange.
His stubble was orange.
And while she lost focus for a moment, trying to see better, the other moved.
She only felt it when something hard and cold hit her on the side of her face.
Then there was only darkness.
