Kohen’s face filled my vision and my limbs turned to jelly again. “Quick. We have less than two minutes.”
His voice echoed in the hall. Everyone rushed toward him, with sighs of relief and hushed whispers.
March and Silas were at my sides, my hands in theirs, and they pulled me up with ease.
“I can carry you,” March said, but I shook my head. My legs were strong enough to hold me.
“Let’s get out of here already.”
And we did.
37
We made it back.
Somehow, we made it back to the fields right outside the Labyrinth fence, and nobody was after us. Nobody had followed, and no soldiers had been searching the perimeter at all. According to Kohen, Damon’s distraction had worked much better than anybody had thought. Nobody had suspected it wasn’t an accident at all.
Which was good news, except I couldn’t bring myself to be relieved because of how the gears inside me were turning—fast, then slow, then crawling to an almost stop, like my heart half intended to stop altogether.
Like it had done when I was listening to Jinx playing the piano.
But the worst part was when, just before we reached the hatch where Damon and the other Timekeepers were waiting for us, I had to stop and turn at the last moment, let go of March’s hand, and throw up right there on the grass.
The sun had already begun to rise, and I could see just fine, and the only thing that came out of me was bile. It didn’t last long, and March held my head and pulled my hairback, but by the end of it my strength was nearly gone. I was still standing, still able to walk, just not as quickly.
“Let’s stop,” Silas said when March helped me toward the hatch again, where all the others were still waiting for me. “Let’s sit out here for a while. We need to breathe.”
“It’s dangerous, too dangerous,” Master Talik said, but the idea of sitting there on the grass and breathing for a bit while the sun took over the sky sounded better than the Everstill.
The others thought so, too. We all needed a moment.
“Nobody’s coming, and if they do, we’ll see them,” Russ said. “It’s still dark. Let’s take it easy.” He had already sat on the grass right next to the hatch.
Luckily, I’d thrown up far enough away. I was mortified as it was, but when I sat down next to March and allowed my body to let go of its weight, I felt better right away.
Until Master Talik squatted in front of me all of a sudden, took my face in his hands and began to check me—pulled my eyes down, checked my nostrils, told me to open my mouth wide, and then practically stuck his thumbs into my ears and asked me if it hurt. Itdidbut only because he pressed so hard I thought he might crack my skull.
“You’ll be all right,” he concluded. “You’re lucky to be awake. You’ll need time to regain your strength—but when you do, I’d very much like to have a talk about it.” He looked at me with such wide, hopeful eyes. “If you’re willing, of course.”
“I am. We’ll talk.” I saw no reason why I shouldn’t tell him all that I saw. In fact, Master Talik could maybe help me decipher some of the scenes—especially the one with the figure standing alone at dusk with the clock in his hands.
Master Talik nodded with his lips pressed, clearly relieved, like he’d expected me to sayno.
“How was it? Did it hurt?” Mimi asked.
“Not at all. It was…not too bad, actually.”I saw my sister,I thought but didn’t say.
“Itisvery bad. The stillward isn’t a place for a person. The mind is too fragile,” Master Talik said.
And I knew exactly what he meant—I felt like I was still there. I felt like my thoughts kept crashing and burning and merging and mixing with too many impossibilities, too many timelines, too many feelings.
“She was only there a moment,” March said, which made me wonder.
“How did I get out, anyway?”
“You were holding onto the edges. I reached in and grabbed you, pulled you out,” March said, and my heart did a flip.
“What, you mean right away?”
