Into the Hourglass

by King, Emily R.

  “I worked too hard for this sword. No one is taking it from me ever again.”

  Queen Aislinn staggers out of the rubble, her dress stained and torn. The fallen pyre crackles between us, flecks of embers sparking off it and feathery ash floating down. The queen and I stare at each other across the blaze. I shift my pistol toward her. One shot. Just one pull of the trigger and the realm will be free of her.

  I lower my firearm and call across the flames, “You aren’t worth it.”

  Her mask of coldness melts away to fury.

  A horse-drawn wagon sprints into the emptying courtyard, dodging piles of bricks and abandoned carts. Vevina occupies the driver’s bench, and Quinn calls out from where she’s crouched in the back.

  “Come on!”

  Pistols raised, Alick and I back up toward the wagon and then jump inside with Quinn.

  “Hold on!” Vevina snaps the reins and the horses take off.

  Our wheels shoot over the cobblestones, bumping down the street. Gunfire sounds behind us. As we all drop low, Radella dives into my hair to hide. Once the gunfire ceases, I lift my head to see where we’re going. The streets are mostly clear behind us, but ahead, the constable corps are setting up a blockade.

  Vevina snaps the reins harder, driving right for the barricade. A second later, a third explosion goes off in a building in front of us. The structure crumbles into the road between us and the corps. Vevina takes a sharp turn down an alleyway, and everyone in the back slides into each other. She makes a few more turns, and the tall buildings begin to disappear from our view as the bumpy cobblestone street turns into a dirt road.

  Quinn arranges a wool blanket, covering all of us entirely. “We need to stay hidden and quiet,” she explains. “The constable corps will be looking for us.”

  I hold myself still and wait to speak until the wagon slows to a less aggressive pace. “Where are we going?”

  “North,” Alick replies. “We’ll arrive by morning. Everyone try to rest.”

  Quinn slips her hand into mine and tips her head against my shoulder. I want to hear everything I missed, particularly how Radella made it back from the Land Under the Wave. Still woozy from the smoke, I set aside my urgent questions for now and just breathe.

  After a while, I press two fingertips to my lips, and my mind drifts far away to a man in another world, my heart crossing great divides with longing to bring him home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The wagon rolls to a stop. Alick throws the blanket off us and sits up. I stretch out my sore back and stare at the cloudy sky. I have no idea where we are, and I don’t particularly care because I’ve lived to see another day.

  Radella curled up in the hood of Quinn’s cloak, and the two of them are still asleep. Alick slides out of the wagon carefully so as not to disturb them and helps me with my sword.

  An early morning mist hangs over the rolling hills, which are dotted every so often by a lone tree. A large countryside manor is set before us, three stories tall, with a rectangular shape, a simple roofline, and dozens of windows. Daisy bushes grow alongside the wide stone stairway that leads to the main entry.

  Vevina meets us at the rear of the wagon with her arms full of clothes. “We’re far north in the highlands, well out of the city. We should be all right here for a while.” She passes me a cloak, a pair of boots, and my mother’s red gloves. “Alick saved these for you.”

  “Thank you,” I say, slipping into the clothing.

  Vevina tucks her hair behind her ears nervously. “I owe you an apology, darling. When we attacked the Terrible Dorcha—”

  “I understand why you did it, and your reasons weren’t wrong. The Land Under the Wave was worse than any of us thought.”

  “Alick said you would understand.” Vevina stands back to look me over. “I see you got your sword.”

  “Yes, and I’m keeping it.” Father Time initially asked me to bring the treasure to him, but I would be hard pressed to give it away. I need the blade for the ritual that adds more time to my ticker, so the sword is staying with me.

  Radella wakes up and flies to me, perching on my shoulder. I tense and wait for Vevina’s negative reaction to the pixie, but she smiles at her.

  “You look very pretty today, Radella,” she says.

  I forgot they must know each other from planning my escape together. I’m glad Vevina has adjusted her opinion that all magic is foul. She and Radella will get on well. The pixie trills and flutters her wings. Though her language is still a mystery, I’m almost certain she thanked Vevina for the compliment.

  A horse with two riders trots up the long carriageway. Laverick and Claret come into view and cross to us. Laverick dismounts and grabs me in a hug. Her hair and clothes reek of black powder.

  “You set off the explosives in the city,” I say in awe.

  “I told you I blow things up when I’m afraid.” Laverick leans away and beams. “They tried to execute my friend. I think that qualifies as a fair reason.”

  I gape at Alick next. “You said they hadn’t returned.”

  “I couldn’t risk the guard overhearing,” he answers, grinning shamelessly.

  Claret dismounts beside us. She moves like a broken piece of pottery that was pasted back together. She may be frail and delicate still, yet she’s holding strong. She brushes black powder from Laverick’s nose. “Lavey organized your prison escape.”

  “I had help,” says the Fox.

  “Don’t be humble,” replies the Cat. “You were brilliant.”

  I raise my brows, expecting a report later from Laverick on the status of her and Claret. Everything appears to be going well between them.

  “Everley,” calls another voice. Radella jumps into the air, and I reel around as Jamison comes down the front steps of the manor.

  I start off toward him slowly and then quicken my pace. He sweeps me up and squeezes me against him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the city. I—”

  I press my lips against his. He goes stock-still and then crushes me closer, his soft mouth a stark contrast to his embrace. I tip my forehead against his own. “How? When?”

  “We went through the portal soon after you. Neely had an unfortunate accident and fell off the stairway.” Poor old soul. All he wanted was to go home. “The portal dropped us along the coast, not far from here. I rode hard for Dorestand, but you were already in prison. Your uncle did a brave thing.”

  I shut my eyes and reopen them, not wanting the reminder that he’s gone. “I have so much to tell you.”

  Jamison’s voice goes oddly quiet. “And I you. Was there trouble leaving the city?”

  “Plenty.” Vevina smiles mischievously. “But we make a good team.”

  Osric calls from the open doorway. “Lord and Lady Callahan, the tea is ready.” His expression warms at the sight of me, and he tips his head in greeting.

  I start up the steps of the manor with Jamison. “Whose home is this?”

  “My family’s summer estate. Per my mother’s deathbed wish, it’s mine.”

  “It’s large.”

  “Embarrassingly so.” He adjusts the cuffs of his silk jacket. He’s wearing the finest clothes I’ve ever seen on him, and he’s freshly shaven.

  We step into the entrance hall. Radella catches up, sitting on my shoulder. Every piece of furniture and each wall hanging is immaculate and old. Plaster molding, high ceilings, polished floors, gleaming furniture—this manor is much grander than my childhood home.

  A butler waits inside, along with two servants. They are unmoved by the presence of the elf and pixie, yet one of them side-eyes my sword. Alick comes past us carrying Quinn, and a servant escorts him upstairs to put her down.

  “We’ll take our tea in the study,” says Jamison.

  He leads us to a room off the entrance hall. Laverick, Claret, and I go straight to the fire to warm ourselves. A chessboard is set out on a low table, and a grandfather clock keeps time in the corner. Jamison’s violin rests on a stand by she
et music in another corner by a pianoforte. The last time I saw the violin, it was floating in water on the Cadeyrn of the Seas. Muriel’s promise that Jamison would have it again appears to have come to fruition.

  Vevina cases the room, admiring the fine furnishings. “Lord Callahan, I do think I’ve underestimated your importance.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” He gestures at a sofa. “Have a seat.”

  She selects a striped sofa, and Claret joins her, sipping a cup of tea. Alick must have turned in after putting Quinn to bed, and Radella curls up on a footstool by the hearth to sleep.

  “How has Claret been?” I whisper to Laverick.

  “Her time in Everblue shook her.” The Fox speaks even softer. “She keeps up appearances, but she isn’t sleeping. She’ll do better here in the countryside where it’s quieter. The city is too much for her nerves right now.”

  I glance at the Cat. Her hands are wedged between her thighs, her gaze skittish. “Did you tell her . . . ?”

  “She mentioned her feelings for me first.” Astonishment colors Laverick’s voice, her expression alight with joy. “While under the enchantment, she said she could see and feel everything that was happening around her but couldn’t participate, as though she were trapped inside a glass case. During those lonely hours, she realized she loves me.”

  Even though we have a bit of an audience, I cannot help but embrace her. “I’m thrilled for you. After all you’ve been through, you both deserve a happy ending.”

  “You’ll find your happiness with Jamison too.”

  I pull back, my smile unsteady. “Maybe so.”

  Osric clears his throat, signaling the commencement of our meeting. “The queen launched a manhunt for Prince Killian, but as of now, he hasn’t been found.”

  “She won’t find him,” I say, my voice dragged down by my festering dissatisfaction. “He stole the infinity sandglass. By now, he could be anywhere. The sandglass acts as its own portal through time. He used it to spirit jump to the pixies’ treasure trove to retrieve some sort of blue seeds.”

  Jamison scratches the back of his head. “Markham did all this to get seeds?”

  “They’re called sky seeds.” Osric has gone still, his expression pensive. “Sky seeds have a high concentration of creation power. The infinity sandglass gives Markham the ability to travel through time to anywhere in the worlds without a portal, except for the one place the Creator has restricted.”

  “The Silver-Clouded Plain,” I say, remembering the eerie door in the Everwoods with the dead vines blocking it.

  “Why was that world restricted?” Vevina asks.

  “The giants were cut off from the rest of the worlds after they very nearly decimated mankind,” Osric explains. “They must have something Markham wants.”

  “Markham wants an ancient relic, though Father Time didn’t say what.” My frustration for Father Time seeps into my voice, shortening my tone. “He hid the artifact where Markham could never find it.”

  Osric nods solemnly. “We’ll discuss this with the elves when they reply to the letter I just sent the council. My queen may know which relic Prince Killian is after. Whatever it is, he intends to win back his power as prince of the Land of Promise, even if it means starting a war.”

  A curtain of silence drops over us. I listen to my ticker moving in time with the grandfather clock across the room and cannot help but feel that Father Time is watching us. I wonder if he’s sorry about my uncle, if he even cares that I’m the last of my bloodline.

  The first rays of dawn glow through the window, moving us from night into day and reminding us of our exhaustion.

  “Everyone should rest,” Jamison says, rising. “You’re free to walk about the property as much as you’d like. The manor and grounds are yours to explore. My servants will show you to your bedchambers.” He opens the door and reveals his people-in-waiting.

  Vevina exits the study, her gaze glittering as she examines a gold-framed painting on the wall. “Thank you, Lord Callahan. I think I will.”

  They all file out, done in by the long night, except for Radella, who is still fast asleep on the footstool. I stay behind with Jamison, not quite ready to part ways with him, even for a few hours. He tosses another log on the fire, and we settle on a sofa together. I still reek of smoke and soot. I almost feel bad for letting him sit next to me in his finery. He keeps his distance anyway, rubbing his hands together between his knees.

  “Everley, I’m sorry. I wanted to be there last night, but I must keep away from the unrest in Dorestand for a while. My superiors have put me on temporary probation for disappearing at sea. I told them I fell in the water and was rescued by fishermen, and had been trying to make my way home since.” He stares thoughtfully at a portrait over the fireplace of a man and a woman with two children, a boy and girl. His resemblance to them makes it clear they’re his parents, the girl is his sister, and he’s the boy. “My father passed away while we were gone.”

  I release a protracted exhale. He had told me the Marquess of Arundel was ailing, but this loss is still a shock. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jamison gives a heavy nod. “On his deathbed, my father reinstated me as his heir. I hoped we would make amends, and I suppose he did too.”

  I shift closer to his side and loop my arm through his. Jamison doesn’t say anything more, but his grief bows his head and drags down the corners of his mouth. He’s listless, still recovering from the blow of finding himself without a family. I recognize that heartache too well. He will speak about the loss of his father in his own way, and in his own time. Right now, he doesn’t need empty platitudes. He needs someone to keep him company so he feels less alone.

  Opening his palm, I trace his heart line. “What if I told you something I thought was true at the time but now I realize wasn’t?” I ask.

  “You mean a lie?”

  “A misunderstanding,” I amend. “You and I work well together.”

  He pops a brow. “Is that the misunderstanding?”

  “No, I’m getting to that part.” I tuck my quivering fingers under me and flatten my feet to the floor, grounding myself before I go on. “I thought I was incapable of falling in love. I thought my clock heart thwarted my chance of growing close to someone. How could a machine made of wood and gearwork feel anything? How could I be a friend? A wife? A mother? All the love I had for others felt behind me, carried over from before I had my ticker. I didn’t understand that love is endless. My uncle may not be here anymore, but his love will always stay with me, and your father’s love will always be with you. My heart may be different than yours, it looks odd and sounds strange, but I love you, Jamison Callahan. You’re my family, and I’m your family for as long as you’ll have me.”

  He smooths back my hair, his gaze roaming my face, and then he touches his lips to mine. A rush of tingles fires across my skin. He kisses me deeper, the two of us sinking into the sofa and each other. After I don’t know how long, my skin radiates warmth, and all I want to do is touch every part of him that I can reach. I will find no end to this connection. Having him only makes me want him more.

  He kisses me again, long and slow, the ache inside me stretching like warm taffy. Then he pulls back. “I left the city so no one would suspect you’re here.”

  “Good.”

  “No, Evie, I mean that they won’t come looking for you.”

  I frown, more confused. “That’s ideal, isn’t it?”

  “Yes and no.” He pulls away and walks to the hearth, propping one arm against the mantelpiece. “You recall that we were wed aboard the Lady Regina?”

  “I’m unlikely to forget.”

  “Soon after the colony was destroyed in battle, the ship was found unsalvageable, and the captain who wed us was killed in the line of fire.”

  “I was there. Jamison, what are you saying?” My anxiousness broadens, and some part of me is a little hurt that I told him I love him and he didn’t return my sentiments. Though, at this point, I would be happy ju
st to receive another kiss.

  Jamison becomes restless by the hearth and sits beside me again. “Evie, the logbooks from the penal colony were never returned to Dorestand. Our government has no record of the proceedings that took place on our voyage. I’m absolved of all suspicion, just like Alick and Quinn, but this freedom has come at a cost.”

  A leaden sensation sinks in my gut. “Just tell me what you’re upset about.”

  “All right.” He pauses briefly, then barrels on. “We’ve no record of our wedding ceremony. In the eyes of the law, you and I were never married.”

  I swear time stops. I need a long pause to push myself back into this moment. “I’m not your wife?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re not my husband?”

  “Not according to the realm, but this doesn’t change anything.” Jamison kisses the palm of my hand. “I love you, Everley Donovan. I will be here tomorrow and the day after and the day after for as long as you’ll have me.”

  I have the most irrational need to kick something, an odd response to hearing that the man I love does indeed love me back.

  But I was ready to be a wife, his wife. I feel robbed of the whole romantic notion of having a husband. Of declaring to the world through a marital contract that this is the man I love.

  “Everley, are you upset?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I was devastated when I first heard, but now I think back to an hour ago when I was pacing right there in front of the fireplace while Osric trumped me at chess, uncertain if I would ever see you again, and I’m damn grateful you’re here, alive and whole.” Jamison pulls me closer, his blue eyes engulfing my sight. “I don’t care what a piece of paper doesn’t say. You’re family, Evie. Nothing anyone says or does will change that.”

  I lean into him, chest to chest, and brush my lips over his. His soft mouth pushes back, a light pressure that flows down the length of me and warms my toes.

  Golden morning light pours in through the windows. I cozy into his side and gaze ahead at the fire. The pendulum of the grandfather clock swings away in my side vision. I focus on Jamison, but the persistent ticktock of the timepiece disrupts the quiet and reopens my worries about what’s to come.