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eyes, trimmed blue-black hair, and a smooth jawline. He’s dressed
smartly in a top hat and a tailored black jacket over stiff trousers. A genteel fashion.
He stops beside me. In the globe, the scene shows my father leav-
ing the birthday party to answer a knock at our front door. Markham
has come calling.
“I don’t need to see this,” I say. “I remember this night well enough.
Why does everyone keep bringing me back to this moment? Markham
took me to the ruins of my home. This is no better.”
“This wasn’t to torment you, Everley. What you stand on is your
section of the Evermore timeline. Each being is given their own line spanning from birth to death. This is the day when your timeline was altered. Your life hereafter veered down a less certain path.”
Down the petal pathway, the globes henceforward are dimmer and
fewer in number.
Father Time motions at my still ticker. “The Evermore timeline
can be shifted. Agency must be taken into account. Thus, the timeline expands and adjusts accordingly. When you sought out Prince Killian
to bring him to justice, you changed the worlds.”
“For the worse? My friends are in hiding. Jamison must lie to pro-
tect us. My uncle is dead. Markham has escaped again. I’m trying”—my voice catches—“I’m trying to find happiness in all of this. I’m trying to believe this can end and we can have a fresh start. Your bringing me here and showing me this . . . Do you want me to be miserable forever?”
He places both hands on his cane and hunches forward. “Precisely
the opposite. We can encourage you to make choices for the good of
all, but we cannot compel you, nor can we alter what has already been set into motion. The consequences would be dire.”
“They are dire!” I scrunch my eyes shut and turn away from the scene of my family’s final moments together. “I want Markham gone
for good.”
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“Everley.” The gravity of Father Time’s tone compels me to reopen
my eyes. His gaze relays a depth of compassion I’ve never seen him
display. “We are aggrieved about your uncle’s passing, but please take heart. His spirit rests with Mother Madrona.”
I walk away, too raw to accept his trite condolences.
Only a dozen or so globes remain along the path. I’m tempted to
ask if the last one will show me how I die, but I’d rather not know.
Beside the next sphere, I spot a tree stump. Strange. The Everwoods
are the heart and soul of Avelyn. This conclave of elderwood trees holds up the heavens with their mighty branches, creating a divide between land and sky. Avelyn needs them. I cannot fathom anyone cutting one
down.
I concentrate to solidify my form and then rest my hand on the
sheared stump. “What happened?”
“This elderwood gave her life for a crucial cause. Heartwood was
needed, so Mother Madrona offered up her first sapling.”
“What became of the tree’s heartwood?”
Father Time walks to a nearby tree and points out cut marks along
its trunk with his cane. “Do you recall the Legend of Princess Amadara?”
“You mean Markham’s elaborate lie about his epic love story with
Princess Amadara? I wish I could forget that hogwash.”
“Then you recall Prince Killian stole the sword of Avelyn from
Princess Amadara to harvest the heartwood of the elderwoods? This is where his tale deviated from the truth. Killian did not come for heartwood. He came to usurp time.” Father Time grimaces, a pained expres-
sion, his posture bent. “Killian began cutting into this tree. He meant to fell the whole forest and force us to bend to his will. We should have sent him back to his world—that was what was written into his
timeline—but we punished him for betraying Amadara by stranding
him on a cursed isle so he might perish. By interfering in his timeline and seeking to end his life, we gave Prince Killian freedom over death.”
I whirl around. “Markham is immortal because of you?”
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“Time helps to keep order and prevent chaos. We sought to take
away his life before the fated end of his life. In doing so, he was able to throw off the bonds of mortality, for no deity can meddle with the timeline without grievous cost.” Father Time steps to my side, his shoulders drooping as though his body is suddenly too heavy. “We should never
have sought to end him prematurely, but Amadara was our friend.”
“Your friend? Markham killed my family!”
Father Time appears to shrink even more. “He must have known
our interference would result in his freedom from mortality. The elves have a more complete doctrine than that of the Otherworlds. Their
Creation Story includes more truths than yours.”
I thrust my chin up sharply. Could Markham’s claim that humans
were created to serve as helpmates be true? Bloody bones, I cannot abide such a notion.
Father Time wipes a shaky hand across his brow and hunches over
his cane. He looks fallible. He extends his hand, and a globe appears in front of me, the scene of Uncle Holden carving my clock heart out of a piece of heartwood. “Everley, the Evermore timeline has adjusted to compensate for the disruption of Killian’s immortality, but his actions have had lasting penalties that continue to ripple out into the worlds.”
“But you gave Markham everlasting life. Can’t you take it away?”
“We cannot interfere with the timeline again. The fracture has
already weakened us. Fortunately, allocations to repair the timeline were made long ago.” Father Time hobbles over to the stump with his cane
and sits. “This elderwood gave her life so her heartwood could one day preserve the knight of the Evermore.”
My hands fly to my clock heart. I watch the scene in the globe of
my uncle crafting my heart. “My ticker.”
“Through Holden carving the heartwood into a timepiece, you
attained more power than any Time Bearer before you. You, and you
alone, can navigate the timeline and reset what has been broken.” He 89
Emily R. King
hunches forward again, his chest sunken in. “We wish you could have
seen your life without Prince Killian. You are worthy of so much more.”
“The life I have may not be perfect, but I have love.”
“You won’t for long. Not unless you find the Bard—”
“Don’t.” I withdraw a step. “No more assignments or lectures. I’ll
stand up to Markham for my people, not for you.”
Father Time sets his hat beside him on the stump. “Someday you
will see that everything we have done is for the good of the worlds.”
More triteness. The most alarming truth here is that Father Time
acted passionately in defense of Princess Amadara. Then he stood aside while my family died, while Uncle Holden died, while I almost died,
and he would do it again.
“You don’t care about me. Time is indifferent. You only care for
yourself.”
A hint of hurt flares in his eyes. “You must decide to do this. We
cannot force you. But without our direction, you could lose your way and become fodder for the most sinister parts of the eternities.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
He pins me with his all-seeing gaze, as though he has looked straight through my heart. “Your hatred for Killian controls you.”
I flinch away. “Send me home. Send me home now.”
Father Time sighs and opens his han
d. Daisy petals stream out
of his palm, spinning around me and lifting my form. As I float up
through the treetops, I do not look back, but his voice follows me.
“Be wary, Time Bearer. For whether you are prepared or not, the
end speedily comes.”
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I gasp awake, my chest pumping and ticker thumping. Jamison’s half of the bed is empty, and he’s not in the room. Sunshine streams in through the saltwater-stained windowpanes. From the height of the sun in the sky, the day must be well into morning. I press Jamison’s pillow over my head to shut out the light.
The end speedily comes. What in the name of Madrona does that mean? Was Father Time threatening me or warning me? Was the
boggart?
I wish Radella were here. She might tell me I’m wrong—Father
Time isn’t to blame for unleashing a monster on the worlds—but that’s precisely what he admitted to doing.
Hearing voices outside the house draws me to the window. Jamison
and Quinn are walking down to the beach. I dress quickly, tie back my hair, and grab my sword.
Down the hall, Osric’s door is wide open. The patient is sitting up
in bed, his injured leg propped up by pillows.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite human.”
“Opposed to the humans you like a little less?”
“Opposed to any of them, really. In fairness, you’re the only human
I’m fond of.”
“I’m happy to win by default,” I say. “You’re looking better.”
Emily R. King
He grunts and drinks from his flask. “Don’t tell Alick. He doesn’t
trust the cider is good for me, but he’s never tended to an elf before. The drink helps me regenerate. Two more days, and I’ll be back on my feet.”
I hope Osric has a speedy recovery, but I still don’t understand why aging is so repulsive to him. “Aren’t you low on your supply?”
“I’ve enough for now. One of the queen’s guards at Elderwood
Manor offered to refill my flask next time I see him.”
“Was it the guard who blushed at you?”
“Dalyor’s blush is a matter of debate.”
“But yours isn’t,” I say, pointing out his rising color. “You still have friends in the Land of Promise. Why don’t you go home? You could see your parents.”
Osric picks fuzz off his wool blanket. “My parents don’t wish to
see me.”
Images of my mother and father, fresh from my visit to the
Everwoods, sit at the forefront of my mind. “Don’t you want to see
them?”
“Quite honestly, I haven’t thought about it.” Osric pushes up in
the bed, wincing at a tweak in his leg. “How did we get here? Alick
said there’s no portal nearby. The lot of us dropped from the sky out of nowhere.”
“I don’t know what happened. We went through the portal at the
top of the platform in the Land Under the Wave and landed here.”
“Portals connect to each other. Like a tunnel, they have two ends,
an entry and an exit. To travel them, you go in one side and out another.
How did you get around that?”
“What makes you think this was my doing?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because you’re the only one with
a clock for a heart who’s carrying the sword of Avelyn.” Osric stares at me, waiting, but I don’t know what he expects me to say. “Fine, I’ll tell you what I think happened. We went through the entry portal, and the sword created its own exit portal to get us here. As the legend says, the 92
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sword of Avelyn can move instantaneously through time, just like the infinity sandglass.”
I adjust my sword at my hip. Even if the hallowed blade did what
Osric claims, I cannot fathom how. “Say you’re right. Do you know
how it’s done?”
“Me? I’ve no idea. I thought portal jumping would be something
the Time Bearer would know how to do.” Osric sinks farther back into his pillows. “I suppose you’re off to the skystalk. I’m not fond of sending you up there with Mundy without me, but I’ll follow as soon as I’m able. Everley, be watchful. The captain’s a self-serving bastard.”
I’m more concerned about the probability of encountering other
giants. When I was a lass, my uncle read me bedtime tales about giants snatching children from their beds and cooking them into meat pies. I have a healthy amount of fear for most creatures of legend. My misgiv-ings about giants are, well, bigger.
“Evie, what is it? Did Mundy do something?”
“Not exactly.” I won’t explain what Redmond told me about the
prince. In Osric’s condition, I don’t want to stress him. “After meeting Queen Imelda, I was curious about Markham’s family. He told me some
things, but not much.”
“There isn’t much to know. Killian and Imelda were best friends
growing up. When their parents became sick, Killian cared for them
while Imelda ran the kingdom. The king and queen died suddenly,
and Imelda assumed the throne. If you’re thinking something occurred in Killian’s youth that turned him into a rotter, you’re wrong. The
prince was beloved by his family and his people. He chose to become a monster.”
“He doesn’t see himself that way.”
“Monsters never do.”
“I should go.” As I adjust the pillow behind Osric’s head, I spot
the wrinkle on his forehead that he lamented before and kiss it. “Be a good patient.”
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“I’m always good. Tell Alick I want my hat back. I’ve asked twice,
and no one has brought it to me.”
“I’m sure they’ll return it soon. Don’t pester them.”
He puts on an innocent face. “Me? A pest? You’re not my favorite
human anymore.”
“Honestly, that lasted longer than I thought it would.” I nudge the
foot of his injured leg, and he chuckles.
I step into the hallway as Vevina storms up the stairs.
“Evie, you might want to avoid the barn. Your dandy pirate is on
a tirade because I refused to shave his face. I’d strangle him dead, but I can’t fit my hands around his meaty neck.”
“You won’t have to tolerate him much longer.”
“Yes, I heard. Jamison told me you’re going to the giants’ world.”
Vevina’s brows lower over her probing gaze. “Darling, should you be
trusting those pirates?”
“I’ll be all right. Jamison will be with me.”
“He’s a handsome one, that marquess.” Vevina adjusts the collar
of my shirt under my cloak for me. “You’ve come a long way from the
lass who said she wasn’t made for love. I suppose we’ve both changed, haven’t we?”
“We have.” Vevina has been living a quiet life for months now,
watching over Quinn and working alongside Alick. She’s been with
the surgeon longer than any other man. “Thank you for taking care of Osric.”
Vevina pulls Osric’s hat out of her apron pocket. “Tending to a
patient will be good for Alick. Gives him something to fuss over besides my blisters.” She levels a stern gaze at me. “Be careful with those giants.”
“I will.” I head downstairs, outside, and around the back of the
house. Mundy’s voice carries out the open barn doors.
“No, you may not bring that repulsive creature with us!”
“But look at him,” Neely pleads. “He’s fond of me.”
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I stop in
the doorway and see Neely petting a black lamb cradled in
his arms. Mundy stands next to him, clean shaven in his velvet jacket.
Through the opposite barn doors, I see two covered wagons. Jamison
and Quinn are out there rigging up the horse teams.
“It’s a sheep,” the captain says. “A sheep doesn’t have feelings.”
“Every creation has a heart.” Neely nuzzles the lamb. “Isn’t that
true, Rufus?”
“Rufus?” Redmond throws up his hands. “Everley, tell him he can-
not keep the lamb.”
I offer an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Neely. Rufus will be happier here than he would be crammed in the back of a wagon.”
Out the far door, Jamison and Quinn finish readying the horses
and start inside.
“I want to go,” Quinn says. “Don’t say I’m too young. I’m almost
thirteen.”
“Quinn, this is the land of the giants. It’s too dangerous.” Jamison pauses at the door and reaches out to console her, but the lass storms a few paces away to stew.
Alick hauls two heavy supply sacks into the barn and drops them at
my feet. “Vevina asked me to bring you a few things. Inside, you’ll find blankets, food, water casks, candles, and a medical box.”
“Thank you, Alick,” I say. “And thank you for looking after Osric.”
“Vevina and I will set him right again. She’s been bored out here in the countryside.” He runs a hand down the back of his neck, smoothing down his hair. His unkempt locks are the longest I’ve seen them. “I’ve tried to come up with projects to occupy her hands and mind, but that woman is hard to keep up with.”
I hold back a smile. Vevina and Alick are both trying their best to
look after one another. This makes it easier to leave them.
Jamison comes up behind me so quickly I don’t notice. I jump, and
his lips slowly rise. “Did you sleep well?”
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Emily R. King
“Did you?” My throat itches and my face grows hot. We did things
last night that are too intimate to dwell on during daylight hours.
He brushes his lips across my ear. “How are you with driving a
wagon?”
“A what?” I ask, distracted by his touch. “Oh, a wagon. I’l manage.”
Redmond is shining his boots, and Neely is cradling his lamb one
last time, uninterested in us. But I catch Alick staring, and my cheeks burn. This is ridiculous. I can be apple cheeked for all eternity or . . .
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