She was going to die. He knew it. There was no way she could get out of this one.

As Time watched from the safety of Nowhere, he analyzed her situation. She was surrounded. While that certainly was a disadvantage, it wasn't what signed her death sentence. She had been surrounded on a number of occasions. He had seen her wriggle her way out of tighter situations. There was a knife at her throat and one at her back, not to mention the weapons in the hands of all the other men around her. Again, though, this did not mean her demise. She had uncanny skills when it came to combat, and he had seen her take on more attackers than this.

No, what was going to kill her was the poison that the knives had been polished with. And not just any poison—Queen's Blade. It was the deadliest poison in all of Wonderland, perhaps even beyond. Even if she managed to escape with only a few scratches, she would be dead in seconds.

But she didn't know this. She had no idea about the poison. And she wouldn't until it was too late. She would only know about it when it was coursing through her veins.

She was going to die.

Time clenched his fists as he watched the scene in slow motion. This was how it had to be. He wasn't supposed to interfere. It was one of the rules. Not that he remembered ever being taught the rules. But it was one of the many "laws" that were somehow already in his head. Much like he knew how to slow and speed any moment or how he could replay any scene in history to entertain himself.

It was wrong to interfere.

She was going to die.

She had to die.

The knife at her throat drew closer and closer. The glint of the blade nearly blinded him as he pictured it adding another scar to that limber body. Except it wouldn't. It would never have the chance to become a scar. It would hardly have a chance to bleed before she was cold and dead on the ground. His chest tightened at the thought.

He shouldn't interfere.

She was going to die.

And he couldn't interfere.

She had to die.

She had to die.

She had to die.

Before he knew what he had done, he was standing in the middle of the scene he had previously only been observing. He was a stone's throw away from the crowd of men. There were so many of them that it was difficult to spot her. But then he caught movement amidst the still scene, and he couldn't help but smile when he saw the look of utter astonishment on her face. She ducked her head back and forth and waved her hand in front of their faces, trying to get some sort of response out of them. But there was nothing. Not a blink, not a snarl, not a breath. It was only when she moved to touch the tip of the blade that had been held at her throat that Time made known his presence.

"Don't touch that, you silly girl," he said as he approached. She looked up at him in surprise, but she didn't cry out or try to run. She simply watched as he moved the statuesque men. "After all that, it would be ridiculous if you still managed to kill yourself after all I did."

"Kill myself?" she repeated as she marveled at the way he tossed the men aside like discarded furniture.

"The knives. They're laced with Queen's Blade. One touch and you'll be dead before you can muster up a single tear."

Sporting a smug smile, she crossed her arms over her chest and flipped her braid over her shoulder. "I never cry, especially not over a little flesh wound."

He held back a grin. "I'm well aware that you don't cry. You don't cry when you've been stabbed in the gut. Or when you've broken your arm. Or even when you've blacked out from major blood loss."

With all the men and their poisonous knives now at a safe distance, he turned to face her. It was something else seeing her in the flesh and not as a visual in his office. He had thought she was pretty before, but now that he was seeing her in person, he realized "pretty" wasn't the right word. Yes, her long, blonde hair looked like it could be made of silk, and her spicy green eyes sent a shiver down his spine with their fiery intensity. But then he noticed that her hair was snarled and singed—likely from that time her tribe set the Hickory Dickory prison on fire to free her. And there were more scars on her delicate skin than he had realized, skin that turned out to be more calloused and dry than delicate as he had once believed.

She was more and battered and disheveled in person. But she was more mesmerizing as well.

Clearing his throat, Time adjusted the cuffs of his suit coat and glanced about the forest. "I'm also well aware that you have a habit of nearly dying."

"Hey, I'm not dead yet."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Thanks to me."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I suppose this time you did get me out of quite the predicament. However, had I known about the Queen's Blade, I would have found a way to survive."

"No doubt," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said 'you're welcome.'"

Uncrossing her arms, she moved about the area, taking in everything. Her eyes widened with each passing second—or rather, unpassing second. When she came across a falling leaf frozen in midair, she gave a squeal of utter delight. Time could not deny that it pleased him greatly.

"How did you do this?" she asked, poking at the leaf before looking for more surprises to ogle at.

"It was quite simple, seeing as I am Time and all."

She whirled back to face him, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. It was difficult to hold back a self-satisfied smirk. However, all of his confidence disappeared when she closed the distance between them. She was nearly as tall as he was, so she was practically at eye level. He could feel her warm breath as she drew close and examined his face. If he reached out his hand, he could tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Without knowing it, his hand began to move of its own accord. Thankfully, she spoke, and her voice broke the spell.

"I thought you'd have a mustache," she said, sounding almost disappointed.

He scoffed but somehow felt suddenly self-conscious about his lack of facial hair. "I apologize for not meeting up to your standards," he said as she walked away to inspect the men again.

"Oh, it's not that I like mustaches. I just thought for some reason you'd have one. Maybe it has something to do with the hands on a clock?"

She moved her fingers back and forth on either side of her upper lip, imitating the movement of a clock. Time let out a breath of a laugh as he leaned against his walking stick. "Well, you're not half as charming as you appeared to be back in my office."

That was a lie, but he was for some strange reason feeling rather defensive. Truthfully, she was just as charming and fascinating as she had been in the scenes he had watched in the safety of Nowhere.

Again, she turned to face him, but this time there was a wicked grin on her lips. "You've been watching me?"

His face flushed, and he again fiddled with his cuffs to avoid looking her in the eye. "I can observe all of time, past and present, so, yes, I've gotten a few glimpses of you."

Another lie. He had been watching nothing but scenes of her since he had stumbled across her a year ago. But there was no way he was going to admit that to her.

"What are scenes? And what about the future? Can you tell what's going to happen to me tomorrow? Or in five years? Ooh! Can you go back in time?"

She drew closer with every eager question, causing him to become more and more flustered. "Enough questions. I do have to abide by some rules. Now, if you don't mind, I should get back to work."

He turned to leave. "Wait!" she called out.

Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"What's your name? Or are you just called Time?"

"Time will suffice. Not that you need to be calling me anyhow."

"I'm Alice." She grinned. "Although, I suspect you already knew that."

Turning away to hide the color in his cheeks, he replied, "I'll give you a ten-second head start, Miss Alice."

He chuckled softly at the sound of her light steps dashing through the forest. Even he knew that ten seconds was far more time than Alice Chataway needed to escape.