March didn’t answer right away. He was standing very still, his eyes moving over the street ahead of us, over the buildings and the trees and the red doors and the roses like he was searching for something…
“Yes,” he finally said. “This is home.”
26
Master Talik and Damon led us toward the nearest buildings. We were to have our hoods on at all times, keep our heads down—and whatever happened, we weren’t to talk to anyone about anything.
We walked through side streets and back alleys that the Timekeepers navigated without hesitation. It was clear to see that Master Talik had been here before. His feet seemed to know the way just likeourfeet had known the palace in the Labyrinth.
We passed a bakery with the windows fogged with steam that smelled of cinnamon and something sweeter underneath—which then made my stomach turn again. My body hadn’t forgotten the runner.
We went past a square where children chased each other around a fountain under the fresh sunlight, their laughter ringing off the stone.
Then, we walked by an old woman selling roses from a cart, who looked at us like we were the most curious thing—and that’s where March broke formation, snuck out of theline when Master Talik and Damon weren’t looking, and went straight to her.
Most of us covered our mouths to keep silent as we laughed. March stepped up to the woman sitting behind the wooden cart, said something to her we couldn’t hear, and then she was smiling, standing up, hands hovering over the many roses in front of her—she had reds and whites, yellows and pinks in all shades—but she picked up a red one from the edge of the cart.
She sniffed it hard, then gave it to March, who bowed his head and brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles.
The woman about melted with her other hand to her chest, her silver-white hair bouncing as she laughed. I bit my tongue to keep silent while the others buzzed in whispers—show off!—you’re making the rest of us look bad!—they said no talking to anyone!
But Master Talik and Damon were walking ahead, their own hoods drawn so they didn’t see anything, and March was back in line within seconds, a single red rose in his hand.
He gave it to me.
I knew he would, but even so, my cheeks were about to melt off me completely, and my poor heart was trying her very best to break out of my ribcage to go to him.
“The most beautiful rose doesn’t compare, but I’m hoping you’ll like the color,” he whispered in my ear—and how was I even still standing?
The others were on him, some patting his back, somebooing him, some teasing him about what a hopeless romantic he was, but March couldn’t care less. He was grinning ear to ear, and he looked like a completely different person from the March he was in the beginning. (and hadIdone that?) He shrugged their comments off easily, and he wasn’t shy in the least. Instead, he lookedproud,which madethe whole thing better somehow. The rose redder, the smell of it sweeter.
“Thank you—it’s perfect,” I barely whispered back before Master Talik turned to look at us—we were whispering and buzzing like bees here.
Only Silas, who walked just in front of the group with Russ and Anika, smiled in a way that was both happy and sad at the same time as he glanced back at the rose in my hand.
A rose I wasnevergoing to let go of. I would take it with me to my grave, together with everything March made me feel—like I was on top of the world.
No—likeI washisworld, the only thing that mattered. That’s how he looked at me now.
I wondered, had he looked at me like that before?
What a silly thought, but I was tempted to bejealousof past Ora if he did. Who knew roses could make a girl so silly?
“Keep it down,” Master Talik said from the front, and that put the comments and giggles and laughs to rest.
At one point I leaned into March’s ear and whispered, “Where exactly are we in the court?”
He shrugged. “Second quadrant, but not close to where I grew up. I recognize the street names, though. We must be on the other side,” he whispered back.
On and on we went.
My feet were tired, but I was full of energy at the same time. The cloak was heavy over my shoulders, and it was hot outside, but we all kept our hoods on at all times, just in case.
The roads narrowed the farther we walked. The wide, swept streets gave way to cobbled lanes, then to dirt paths lined with hedgerows so tall and thick they blocked everything but the sky. The red faded too—not entirely, but softly. The buildings were smaller in these neighborhoods, older, made of stone that looked to have been white once but was now slightly yellowed with sunlight. Fewer banners andfewer lanterns, but way more wildflowers growing together with roses, pushing up through cracks in the road, climbing over fences, rioting across rooftops, too.
I hadn’t noticed the noise much as we walked, but I noticed it when the streets became quieter. No shops here, and no carts, no children running and playing—only houses. In perfect rows, lining wide streets, with only birdsong and wind in our ears.
“How much farther?” Levana asked for the third time—safe to say she wasn’t fromthisquadrant or at least this part of it.
