by Amy Ewing
But I have to face Carnelian and then meet Rye tonight in Ash’s old chambers. I give Garnet’s arm a squeeze and he smiles wanly. I leave him with the tea sets and head to Carnelian’s room.
I’ve never been inside it before. Maude only showed it to me in passing on my first day as a lady-in-waiting.
I knock. “Come in,” Carnelian says from within.
Carnelian does not have chambers like I did when I was a surrogate. Her one room is large and airy, with a view of the garden. It contains a four-poster bed, a round mahogany table with two chairs, a vanity, and a chaise lounge by the window. One wall is lined with bookshelves. Another has a pretty painting of a farmhouse that reminds me of the White Rose.
She lies in bed, the bandage on her shoulder poking out from beneath her nightdress. Her arms rest at her sides, but her face is alert. From the way she’s looking at me, it’s clear she hasn’t forgotten the moment she recognized me earlier, before she slipped into unconsciousness.
“So,” she says as I close the door behind me. “You came back.”
I swallow. “I came back.”
My heart thumps in my chest. Now that I’m face-to-face with her, with the threat of dying removed, I don’t know what she’ll do. She could call for the Regimentals at any time.
“Why?” she demands. “Ash is safe.” Her eyes widen. “He is safe, isn’t he? I read in the paper he was sighted in the Bank, but I didn’t think it could be true.”
“He is safe,” I say. Then I add, “And it is true.”
“How could you let him do that?” Carnelian snaps. “He could get caught. She still wants to find him, to kill him!”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I say. “He left without telling me.”
“Because he doesn’t trust you?” she asks hopefully.
“Because I wasn’t there,” I say. “Because . . . because I left him to come here.”
Carnelian chews on her lip. “Why? Is it revenge? Against the Duchess?”
My jaw clenches and she smiles smugly. “Good. I hope you get her before the Black Keys burn this city to the ground.” She cocks her head. “It’s something more, though, isn’t it? Not just revenge . . .” She pauses, studying me. Then she gasps. “Of course. The surrogate. Whoever the Duchess stole to replace you. You’re here for her, aren’t you? Is she a friend of yours?”
“Something like that,” I say. Then I blurt out the question that’s burning in my throat. “If you knew the surrogate wasn’t me, why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Oh, don’t think I didn’t try,” Carnelian says. “It was the perfect trump card to hold over her. But the Duchess plays dirty. She threatened to have me committed to an asylum if I so much as breathed a word.” Her mouth sets in a hard line. “I hope that whatever you’re planning, you make her suffer the way she deserves.”
“Aren’t you frightened?” I say. “You were nearly killed today.”
Carnelian’s laugh is hollow. “Even if I had died, no one would care. The Duchess would probably throw a parade.” She stares out the window. The sour mask she usually wears falls away, replaced with an expression of utter hopelessness. “It doesn’t matter to anyone whether I live or die.”
I remember what Ash said to me, when we were waiting in the morgue for Lucien to come. He told me Carnelian was sad, and that that sadness had been twisted into bitterness and anger. All the time I lived here, I saw her only as a nuisance. I saw the sullenness and ignored the grief and pain beneath it.
Because she’s right. No one in this palace would care if she had died today.
All the hatred and resentment I’ve held on to against Carnelian melts away. I see a girl who’s been put down and mistreated for so long. I see the girl Ash saw, the one I ignored because I was busy being jealous and petty. A girl who misses her mother. A girl who wants to be loved.
I make the decision then, to be brave, where once I was timid. To be a different person, a better person.
I move toward her and sit on the bed. She rolls her eyes.
“What, are we going to be best friends now?”
“No,” I say. “But we are on the same side.”
“What side is that?”
“We both hate the royalty, right?”
She narrows her eyes at me and waits.
“And we both love the same boy,” I say. I hold out my hands, palms up, as a peace offering. “You want to turn me in, do it. Ring the bell, call the Regimentals. My life is in your hands. You can end it right now.”
Carnelian hesitates. I can see the desire to cry out, to have me handcuffed and executed for treason. I know the danger I’ve put myself in. But I look into her brown eyes and sense the war going on inside. Who does she hate more, me or the Duchess? The seconds stretch into minutes. I won’t break the silence.
“Your name is Violet, right?” she says, finally.
“Yes.”
“Well. I guess I should thank you. For saving my life.”
“Ash never would have forgiven me if I didn’t try.”
The yearning in Carnelian’s face is a palpable thing. “Does he ever . . . talk about me?”
I take a breath and give her the honest answer. “Right before I left, he told me to be careful around you. That you are sharper than I gave you credit for.”
A tiny smile lights on her face. “He said that?”
I nod. She leans her head against the pillow and stares up at the ceiling.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask.
“No. I want to be alone.”
I stop at the door and turn. “He cares about you, you know. I hate it, but he does. He’s been defending you ever since we escaped—since before then, really. I know it’s not what you want, but . . .” I sigh. “He cares.”
Carnelian does not look at me. She very deliberately closes her eyes. “Go away,” she whispers, and just as I close the door, I see a tear tumble down her cheek.
EVERY BONE IN MY BODY ACHES. MY EYELIDS ARE DRY and my mind is numb. It has been a long day, but still, I have to see Rye.
I take a servant staircase down to the first floor and pause when I reach the hall where the library is. Joining with Air, I push it out from me in a gust, then pull it back.
I smell boot polish and hear the even steps of a Regimental. I slip back into the secret passage, behind a sliding panel of wall, and wait. The footsteps draw closer. Then they pass. I count to thirty, then sneak out into the hall and run as quickly and quietly as I can to the library.
As soon as I enter the tunnel, my arcana starts buzzing. I pull it out of my hair and talk as I walk.
“Are you all right?” Lucien is distraught. “Were you hurt in any way?”
“No,” I say dully. “Coral’s dead.”
“I know. I’m so sorry you had to experience that.”
“Why?” The word comes out sharp and pointed. “This is what a revolution looks like, isn’t it? It’s about time I saw it, acknowledged it. You got me into this. Don’t apologize now.”
I can feel it in the silence emanating from the tuning fork. I know I’ve hurt him. I stop walking and press my forehead against the cool stone wall.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to—”
“To what, be honest? Never apologize for that, Violet. You are right. This is what a revolution looks like.”
“What are we going to do with them, Lucien?” I ask. “The royalty. Are we just going to . . . to kill them all?”
“There are many in the Society who wish for that. Blood for blood.”
“What do you think?”
“I think there has been enough death already. I think we should set them to work. See how the others in this city have lived for so long. Make them tear down the Great Wall with their own bare hands.” He sighs. “How I would love to see that. And see the ocean beyond. This city has been isolated for ages. It would be nice to know what is out there.”
The ocean. I’d like to see that, too.
“I’m going to see
Rye now,” I say. “Ash got a message to him. He knows about me.”
“That is excellent news! And he will be at the Auction. Tell Garnet. I’m sure he can find a use for Rye and the other companions who will be at the Auction House.”
“I already told him,” I say. “Oh, and I’ve been reassigned as Carnelian’s lady-in-waiting. She knows about me, too. She recognized my voice.” I hear a sharp intake of breath on his end. “She won’t tell. I gave her the chance. Even told her to go ahead and do it. But she hates the royalty more than she hates me.”
“Well. Hasn’t this day just been full of surprises.”
“It’s all really happening, isn’t it?”
“Yes, honey. It is.”
“I have to go,” I say. I want this night to be over. I want to sleep, to lose myself in blissful oblivion.
“Of course.”
I hold my hand out for the arcana to drop, but it stays hovering in the air.
“Violet?” Lucien says, and his voice is timid.
“Yes?”
“I am so very proud of you.”
The arcana falls into my hand and I clench my fist around it, squeezing it tight before setting off down the cold, quiet hall.
Twenty-One
IT IS SO STRANGE, BEING BACK IN THIS PARLOR.
I open the secret door, behind the oil painting of the man in the green hunting jacket with the dog at his side, and find Rye standing by the window, waiting for me. The room is dark, the only light coming from the moon outside.
“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he says as I shut the painting behind me. “After what happened today.”
“I told you I would,” I say. “And there isn’t much time left, anyway.”
“No,” he agrees. “There isn’t.”
We stand in awkward silence for a moment.
I’m almost afraid to ask about Ash, even though he’s why I’m here. Rye moves to sit on the sofa. I take the armchair by the window.
“Ash managed to contact one of our friends who wasn’t working at the time, a guy named Trac. Found him on the Row. You’ve seen the Row, right?”
I nod, remembering the sleazy strip in the Bank filled with cheap taverns and brothels.
“Trac’s been in pretty bad shape for a while. He drinks too much and cuts himself. He was probably gonna get Marked soon.”
Ash explained to me about Marking—if a companion fails to be perfect in every way, they are tattooed with a black X on their right cheek and kicked out of the companion house with only the clothes on their backs. All their earnings revert back to their madam.
“So,” Rye continues, “Ash told him all about you, and the Society, and the rebellion, and how things could change . . . how they already were changing. He offered Trac the chance at a new life, painted a picture of what was possible. He gave him—”
“Hope,” I say softly, my throat swelling up. “He gave Trac hope.”
Why was it so hard for me to see it back then, at the White Rose, when I brushed aside his desire to help the companions because it was too dangerous?
“Yeah, and it caught on like wildfire. There are tons of companions who hate their lives, as I’m sure he’s told you. And I include myself in that category.” Rye tugs at his curls. “I was killing myself with blue. Now, at least if I die, it might actually mean something. I won’t just be another anonymous companion overdose.”
I’m glad to hear he’s not using anymore.
“Then Trac got assigned to the House of the Light and I saw him at one of the thousand parties I’ve gone to with Carnelian.” Rye smiles, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “Ash told him to look out for me. He told him I should contact Coral’s lady-in-waiting. I didn’t get it at first, until I overheard you talking to Zara. It wasn’t even the sound of your voice so much as the way you spoke.” He throws his arm over the back of the sofa. “I guess you made an impression on me at Madame Curio’s.”
“I’m flattered.”
“We’ve been making contact with other companions in the Jewel, too. Ash is famous now.”
“I know,” I say, smiling myself this time.
“So it all goes down at the Auction, right?”
“Yes. You should talk to Garnet. He’ll be able to give you some advice about what to do.”
“Garnet?” Rye says incredulously. “Garnet-of-the-House-of-the-Lake Garnet?”
I nod.
He whistles. “This thing is deeper than I realized.”
“I’m surprised Ash didn’t tell you.”
“I’m not. He didn’t talk to me directly, remember?”
“Right.” I gaze out the window. The moonlight sparkles off the surface of the lake in front of the palace. “This room was where he told me what he did, what being a companion was really all about. This was where we fell in love.”
It’s such a personal sentiment, and I immediately regret saying it out loud.
“Sorry,” I say, blushing. “You don’t need to hear that.”
There’s a pause. I look at Rye and see his posture has changed. He leans forward, staring down at his hands. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I do.”
I’m not sure what to say.
“We are unloved,” he continues after a moment, “and unlovable. That’s what they train us to think. We are objects of sexual and monetary value. Who could love someone as filthy as a companion? We are made to look pretty, but we are rotten on the inside. I don’t think you understand just how important you are to him. I don’t think you understand the value of your love. Because let me tell you.” He looks me right in the eyes. “It is priceless.”
I’m about to say “I know,” when I realize I don’t. Being a surrogate never made me feel unlovable. It made me feel cheap and used and angry. But I had Raven and Lily, I had my mother and Hazel and Ochre. Ash had Cinder and then nothing. And even Cinder wasn’t enough to stop him from hating himself.
I remember his words the night we fought before I came back to the Jewel.
And what do I have, Violet? You. Just you.
I’d thought it was an exaggeration at the time. I never thought Ash would find it difficult not just to love but to be loved as well.
“And now he’s passed that hope to us,” Rye continues. “That we might actually be able to live a life of our choosing, with someone who wishes to be with us, not someone who pays for the pleasure of our bodies. Companions are smart. We are well trained, and extremely disciplined. Give us a purpose, a single-minded focus, a cause that unifies us . . . well.” Another flash of teeth in the night. “We’re a force to be reckoned with.”
“Yes,” I say. “You are.”
“What’s your role in this whole thing?”
“I’m going to bring down the wall that separates the Bank and the Jewel. I’m going to let the people into this circle once and for all.” The words come out easily, with a confidence I haven’t heard in my voice before.
Rye’s mouth falls open. “By yourself?”
“No,” I say. “I’ll have some help.”
“Who—”
I hold up a hand. “I’ll explain another time.” I can’t muster the energy to tell him about the surrogates and the Paladin tonight.
“Of course. It’s late. You must be exhausted.” Rye stands as I do, ever the gentleman. I walk over and wrap my arms around him. He hesitates at first, then returns the hug.
“You deserve to be loved,” I say. “You all do.”
He doesn’t say anything, just squeezes me once, and I release him.
By the time I make it back to my chambers, I barely have the energy to slip my dress off over my head before I collapse onto the bed and fall into a dreamless sleep.
WHEN I WAKE THE NEXT MORNING, THERE’S A CRICK IN my shoulder from sleeping on it wrong.
I groan and roll onto my back, sunlight streaming through my open windows.
I gasp and sit up. The clock on the wall says it’s nine forty-five.
“Crap!” I yelp, throwin
g on my spare lady-in-waiting gown and shoving my hair into a bun. The Exetor is coming today. I need to have Carnelian dressed and ready in an hour.
I skip the kitchen, figuring I can bring her something after she’s dressed, and dive through the tapestry of the Duchess by the dining room. I pound my way up the stairs, slowing my pace when I enter into the main halls, and knock three times on her door.
“You’re late,” she calls, and I take that as permission to come in. She sits up in bed, a tray of half-eaten waffles beside her. “Mary brought me breakfast. My bell doesn’t connect with your room.” She smirks. “Mary hates you, by the way.”
I bristle. “She hates you, too.”
Carnelian flushes, then shrugs. “Everybody hates me.”
I don’t have time to feel bad, or even argue with her, right now. “Come on,” I say. “Get up. You can boss me around all you like today. That’s got to count for something.”
A broad smile spreads across her face. I have to help her out of bed because her chest is taped up. The doctor gave her pain medication so her ribs and shoulder don’t hurt, but the tape makes maneuvering her into a dress take longer than usual.
Somehow, we manage to make it to the foyer by 10:42. Rye meets us at the top of the main staircase, all in black. He doesn’t even glance at me, smiling at Carnelian and offering his arm.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as they descend the stairs. Carnelian leans on him heavily.
“I’m all right,” she says. “Whatever the doctor gave me is working. I don’t want to go to any parties tonight, though.”
“As far as I know, our schedule is completely clear. We can do whatever you wish.”
We reach the foot of the stairs and I slink into line beside Cora. Rye and Carnelian stand with Garnet and the Duchess, who are already waiting at the front doors. The fountain twinkles merrily, surrounded by black-clad servants and maids. Even Zara is in attendance, looking strange out of her apron. The red coats of the Regimentals and the white dresses that Cora and I wear are the only splashes of color.
The minutes tick past. At eleven o’clock on the dot, an opulent motorcar pulls up. Little flags whip in the wind from their perches above the headlights—the Royal Crest is emblazoned on them, as well as on the motorcar’s doors.