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Next thing I know, he sets his blade swinging as his feet slide along the carpeted floor, moving with such speed and grace it’s all I can do to keep up without growing dizzy.

I know this game. He’s trying to distract me—make me spend all my energy on keeping track of his placement.

Luckily, I’ve been trained in this, too. So when he arcs his sword toward me, I’m quick to angle my dagger so it stops him on the downward slope of his swing. Filling the space with the screech of metal meeting metal, I force my blade against the tip of his and successfully push him away.

“Impressive,” he grunts. “For a novice, that is.”

I blink three times, wanting to check in on the clock, only to watch in horror as he rebounds quicker than I foresaw.

With his blade arced high above his head, he swings it down so quickly I have no chance of meeting it—no chance of stopping it—without running the risk of being split right in half.

So I do the only thing I can: I duck out from under it, watching wide-eyed as that sharp, double-edged broadsword misses my head by less than an inch.

I won’t win this.

Can’t win this.

I’m totally and completely outmatched.

All I can do now is play a game of perpetual defense until the time on the portal runs out or he slices me to ribbons—whichever comes first.

There’s got to be a better way—there’s got to be—

“You can always surrender,” he says, coming at me again. Forcing me to leap, spin, swerve out of his reach, as his blade continues to carve up the air.

I duck around tables, crash into chairs, send a priceless vase smashing to shards, as I run for my life.

Still, I run with purpose. And when I find myself back beside the table where he left my talisman along with that gold pocket watch, I make a grab for them both. Only to nearly lose my arm when he clears the table with a hard swing of his blade.

As the talisman and pocket watch soar toward the ground, I instinctively follow. Diving to the floor, I crash hard on my belly, scramble to my knees, and just when the prize is well within reach, the man tips his broadsword toward my face and says, “Pick one, Time Jumper. And only one.”

I run a wary glance up the length of him, and the way his gaze darkens on mine, it’s clear he’s fully committed to ridding me of an eye.

“Your time is running out.” He angles his blade precariously close to my face. “So, pick one and be on your way.”

The pocket watch glimmers before me, and as I grip the rounded edge, my fingers grazing over that intricate circular design, the golden case warms as a vision streaks across the screen in my head.

It’s a boy.

A young, happy boy, and he’s laughing so hard his eyes are squinched closed. But when he opens them, when he lowers his chin and stares directly before him, a sudden coldness seizes my core, leaving my skin tingling, my heart racing.

“Choose, Time Jumper!” The man’s voice snaps me out of the vision and back to the present, where his blade veers dangerously close to my eye. “Choose!” he repeats.

But I won’t choose. Can’t choose. I need that watch as much as I need my talisman.

And that’s when I see a way out.

That’s when I duck my head, and with his blade hovering above me, I reach for my talisman with one hand as the other plunges my dagger straight into the tender spot where his knee meets his boot.

Slicing through fabric, flesh, ligament, it’s only when I reach bone—only when the man cries out in shock, staggers backward, and falters to the ground—that I scoop both the pocket watch and my talisman into my hand and race for the door.

The last thing I see when I glance over my shoulder is the unspoken threat in his glinting blue eyes as he watches me go.

24

It’s only once I’ve managed to escape with my talisman and pocket watch secured, my dagger returned to its sheath, that I can finally process the hell I just went through.

Who was that man? And how did he know that I’m a…Time Jumper, as he called me?