And he ran.
Once more his limbs did all the work for him, moved as fast as they needed to move, until he was outside in the hallway again, no longer in the pocket.
Until he turned to the opening on the wall and raised his hands, and the minutes from his own Timekeeper Clock stretched and flowed and turned to a bright teal that burst from his palms. His magic wasfurious, eager to be let out, to do something, make itself useful—and it did.
It spread onto the edges of the wall and extended them until they met in the middle, became solid concrete with not a single crack or line in the middle—but that wasn’t what would keep the boy safe.
That’s why the Royal Timekeeper then closed his eyes and poured twice as many seconds and minutes into the lock—a large lock made out of vibrant teal against the concrete wall, a lock that turned with the Royal Timekeeper’s magic, with his signature, with his blood.
Sealed.The pocket was perfectly sealed, and it would remain so for now.
Then the Royal Timekeeper turned and ran.
He didn’t know where, and this time his feet had no direction. That’s because it no longer mattered. He knew he couldn’t get far, and that was okay. He’d accepted it. He’d accepted that he was going to get caught.
His only hope was that he’d remainalive—not for himself, no, but for the boy. Half Spade, half Timekeeper—not just unheard of, or a wonder (maybe a horror to some people)—butproof.
Proof that a different life from what the people knewwaspossible.
So, he ran and ran as well as he could, exhausted, dragging his feet behind—for without purpose now his legs didn’t much care about being strong. He held onto walls as well as he could, and he made it all the way to the top of the stairs that brought him to the ground floor.
From there, he was only able to take two steps before his knees buckled and his body slammed against the wall just to keep upright. Sheer will kept him standing for another moment, and he knew there was no running.
She’d find him eventually.
And she did.
Everything came to a halt when he saw the movement from his peripheral. When he saw white.
He no longer breathed as heavily, and his legs no longer shook.
His eyes were on the floor, but he saw her just fine. Sawthe way she moved her hands, the way her dress flowed with every step she took.
“Where do you think you’regoing, Timekeeper?”
Eyes closed, the Royal Timekeeper took in a deep breath and pushed himself off the wall to face her.
“Your Excellency?—”
“You thought you could run from me?” The White Queen’s voice was ice cold as she came closer. “You thought you couldhidein the Labyrinth from me?”
The Royal Timekeeper paused for a good tick.
If the queen thought he was trying to run from her still, to hide from her…
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, Your Excellency—you don’t understand.”
Laughter, cold and sharp, and she was halfway to him now. “Oh, I understand plenty. I understand you’re a traitor. I understand you’re nothing but a useless piece of gear,rustblood.”The hatred in her was evident, but the Royal Timekeeper wasn’t surprised.
He hadn’t heard that word since elementary school, since the Clockfolk children in the city whispered it to him as he passed them by.Rustblood—because they wanted the Timekeepers to believe they wereless,that their blood was oxidized just like the color of their hair, that it was corrupted, not pure Clockrealm blood.Decayed.
It was a word people no longer used, at least not in the open. Notadults.But the fact that the children had known to whisper it in secret meant adultsdiduse the word in their homes still. Some might even still believe they were betterthan the Timekeepers. Superior in some way.Not thieves.
Which was almost funny because the greatest thief to have ever existed since the Great White Rabbit was standing right in front of the Royal Timekeeper now.
Smiling with those bloody lips.
“It’s over,” she told him. “There’s nowhere to go.”
