by Amy Ewing
“Put that away,” Sil warns her.
Olive slams her fork down on the table and stands. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“You know you’d be dead now if Violet hadn’t saved you, right?” Sienna says, pocketing her lighter.
“Knock it off,” Raven says.
The few candles in the center of the table flare up. Olive’s eyebrows knit together, and with a puff, the flames are extinguished.
“Hey,” Sil says.
Sienna holds her hands up. “It was an accident, I swear.”
“Please,” Sil says. “Your control is perfect now. You haven’t had an accident in months.”
“Let’s go over the plan again,” I say, and everyone groans except Ash, who is always quiet during dinner. He usually shovels food into his mouth as quickly as possible and then escapes to the barn to be among the chickens and goats Sil keeps. And Turnip.
Turnip was the nickname he gave his younger sister, Cinder. She died a month ago of black lung. Lucien heard about it through one of his contacts in the Smoke, a young boy who calls himself the Thief. He helped Ash get a chance to say good-bye to his sister before we escaped that circle. I guess he kept tabs on her after.
Ash swallows the last of his chicken, shoves a piece of potato in his mouth, and stands.
“Ladies,” he says with a nod to the table. He kisses the top of my head and walks over to the sink. Ash has heard all this before. I feel a bite of guilt, after our argument today, that he is not part of this plan, that this is something I intend to do without him. But I can’t help that—it’s the Paladin who need to take down the wall, and Ash isn’t a Paladin.
I go to the side cupboard and take out several rolls of paper. One is a map of the city. The others are copies of the blueprints of the Auction House.
“So,” I say, unfurling the map in the center of the table, “in a few days, we’ll leave for Westgate. Sil, you’ll stay here and coordinate with the Whistler in the Farm.
“We’ve got four girls left at Westgate, seven at Northgate, and five at Eastgate.” I point to the numbers that have been scribbled over each facility, then scrub out the 3 over Southgate with an eraser. “Indi, Sienna, and Olive, once we get to your respective facilities and show the girls the elements, you will—”
“Stay in a safe house until the night before the Auction,” Sienna says in a dull monotone.
“Where we will sneak back into the facilities with the help of any girl who can connect with Earth,” Indi says brightly.
“And then we hide on the trains until they leave for the Auction,” Olive finishes. A gleam shines in her eye. “That’s when we take out the caretakers and the doctor.”
“You’re not killing them, Olive,” I say. “Just knocking them unconscious.”
“I’m sure we’ll be able to manage,” Raven says. “It was just Charity and Dr. Steele on our train there.”
“Northgate always sends three caretakers,” Sienna says.
“They’ll still be outnumbered,” I say.
“The Regimentals will be waiting for you at the Auction House,” Sil reminds us.
“And it’s Garnet’s job to delay them as long as he can,” I say, rolling up the map and taking out the blueprints. “And remember, if anything happens on the train, if you get found out or . . . or anything. Get to the walls. Bringing down the walls is crucial. And even if it’s not the wall that surrounds the Jewel, breaking down any royal barrier is a success for our cause.”
Olive pouts a little but keeps quiet. There are multiple sheets of blueprints of the Auction House, because not only are there many different rooms, there are several floors beneath it. I pin them down with plates and glasses.
The Auction House is built in a large dome with other smaller domes and turrets piled up around it, various rooms where the royalty are entertained while they wait to purchase surrogates. And of course, the amphitheater where the Auction itself takes place. But there are also—as Lucien pointed out—the Waiting Rooms and prep rooms and a train station on the floors below, chambers for the servants to wait in, and powder rooms for young royal ladies to fix their hair and makeup. And there are secure rooms, safe rooms, in case any danger should befall the Jewel during the Auction. These rooms have thick walls and iron doors. They are where the royalty will run to if threatened. We’ll have them trapped, while the city falls around them.
The Auction is the biggest social event of the year. Lucien told us that every married royal is allowed to attend, so they don’t need invitations like they would for the Exetor’s Ball or a simple House party. Anyone who can attend does. It will be the highest concentration of royals in one place.
“So we’ll get in here,” I say, pointing to the underground train station, on the blueprint that shows the lowest levels of the Auction House. “And we’ll have to be ready right away. Sil is right, there will be Regimentals expecting four trainloads of unconscious girls. And Garnet might not be able to delay them long, if at all. We should expect a fight.”
“Yes, and most of the Regimentals he’s been able to bring over to our side don’t work in the Jewel,” Raven says. “He says the Jewel Regimentals are the worst.”
Garnet has gone from wild party boy to upstanding citizen in a head-spinning amount of time. While all royal men are technically officers in the Regimental army, it’s always been more of an honorary title. No one actually serves. But once Garnet chose to serve in the search for Ash, he discovered a lot of discontent among the Regimental forces, especially in the lower circles. Now he’s using that to our advantage.
“I do wish there were an easier way,” Indi says wistfully. “One that didn’t involve violence.”
“You want us to fight them with hugs?” Sienna asks.
“Love is stronger than hate,” Indi says.
“Violence is the only option, so there isn’t any point in arguing about it,” I say, cutting Sienna off before she can retort. “Once we’re inside, everything needs to happen at once. We need to contain the Regimentals. We need to cause so much panic that the royalty run and hide in their precious safe rooms. Then we need to get to the wall.”
“And you and I set off the signal,” Sienna says to me, flicking her lighter open once more.
I nod. “You and I set off the signal.”
“And everything goes up in flames,” she says. The lighter’s flame glows in her dark eyes.
The timing must be precise. In the days leading up to the Auction, bombs will be planted in the final, key locations that haven’t been attacked yet. As many Society members as possible will gather in the Bank. The day of the Auction, they will station themselves by the wall that separates the Bank and the Jewel, waiting for the Paladin to bring it crashing down. My job is to get as high up as I can, into one of the Auction House’s five spires. Sienna will use Fire while I use Air, to set off a flare of sorts, high enough that everyone in the city will be able to see it, indicating that the bombs should go off. I would do it myself if I could, but we can only use one element at a time.
And after that, as Sienna so aptly put it, everything will go up in flames.
I go over each sheet of blueprints meticulously. I trace my fingers over the various hallways, test the girls’ knowledge of what goes where, which staircase leads to what room, how many levels there are in the Auction House, what each one holds, where the safe rooms are, locating every exit and entrance until finally Sienna lets out a loud sigh.
“Violet, we get it, all right? We’ve gone over this a million times. I could draw these blueprints in my sleep.”
“We need to be prepared,” I say. “The other girls won’t know anything. They won’t have seen these. We have to be the leaders. We have to know exactly where we’re going. We can’t bring them into this only to let them down.”
Sienna looks slightly abashed. Indi’s brow creases and Olive stares down at her plate.
Raven reaches out and grips my hand. “We won’t,” she says.
I roll up
the blueprints and map and put them away, a deep unease settling in the pit of my stomach. All this to help the surrogates, and yet my sister is still trapped in that palace. Memorizing all the blueprints in the world won’t help her where she is.
It’s been months since the Duchess announced Hazel’s pregnancy. Is Hazel’s stomach a tiny bump, like Raven’s once was? Is the doctor using that horrible stimulant gun on her? I don’t even know if Hazel is a surrogate. She was taken before she could be tested at the Marsh clinics. But she must be, otherwise she would be of no use to the Duchess.
If only there were some way I could see her, know she was all right, tell her to hold on . . .
After dinner, Olive begs Sil to bring out The Book.
The Book isn’t really a book. More like various fragments from lots of different books. Lucien compiled it for Sil over the years, stealing pieces of old texts from the Duchess’s library. All together, it tells the history of the Paladin, of this island before it became the Lone City. And all the girls in this house love reading it. Myself included.
The island was called Excelsior, the Jewel of the Earth.
Olive snuggles into my side as we read the yellowed, crumbling pages. It’s strange to me that Olive loves The Book so much—especially since it details how the royalty conquered this island by force and massacred most of the native population. But it talks about a place called Bellstar and another called Ellaria and I think the idea of other places out there beyond the Great Wall appeals to her in the same way The Wishing Well story appealed to me as a child. She wants to believe in the magic and the mystery of it.
She doesn’t seem to understand that we are part of that magic.
The only sounds are the clink of dishes as Sienna washes and Indi’s soft hum as she dries. Sil sits in her rocking chair by the fire, nursing a glass of whiskey. Raven is on the floor at my feet, her head resting on my knees.
“What do you think Bellstar is like?” Olive asks. “I wish there were pictures.”
“It must have been very wealthy,” I say. “They built hundreds of ships to find this island.”
“What happened to them?”
“The people?”
“The ships.”
I trace my fingers over the faded letters on the page. “I don’t know,” I murmur.
Suddenly, the arcana buzzes in my hair. I’ve long revealed the secret of the arcana to the other girls—it was too difficult to hide it after a while. I pull it out now and the silver tuning fork floats a foot away from my face.
“Hello?” I say. Raven perks up. We never know if it will be Lucien or Garnet on the other end.
“Well?” Lucien’s voice is tense. “How did it go?”
I smile. “It was fine. The usual. That’s all of Southgate down. Just three more holding facilities left.”
“With only about a month to go until the big day.”
My stomach squeezes in nervous anticipation. My thoughts fly to my sister again. A month is such a long time.
Hold on just a little longer, Hazel. I’m coming.
“How is the Jewel?” I ask, which is pretty much always code for, How is Hazel? So when Lucien begins to ramble, I’m immediately on edge.
“Insane, as it always is when the Auction approaches,” he says. “Of course, it’s worse this year, since the lower circles are in such turmoil. But you’d think the royalty don’t read the papers. The Lady of the Hail can’t stop boasting about her post-Auction night dinner—it sounds like she’s preparing twenty courses, if you believe her, which I don’t. She’s sent the Electress a hundred invites. And now I have to oversee a shipment from the House of the Flame. Spiced meats, some saffron, and fresh cream from their dairies in the Farm. It’s due to arrive tomorrow. As if saffron is something I need to be worried about right now. Meanwhile, there have been three more arrests in the Bank—one was quite a close call, I thought they’d captured one of my associates—and another bomb went off in the Smoke, which I certainly didn’t sanction—it was poorly made and full of shrapnel so now that quarter is being levied with food restrictions. Even the Regimentals are feeling the pinch. And meanwhile—”
“How’s my sister?” I interrupt.
He pauses. My heart stops as he doesn’t say anything.
“Lucien,” I say, “what is happening?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing I feel you need to worry about.”
Raven is sitting up, her dark eyes fixed on the arcana. Sil has put down her whiskey.
“Why don’t you let me decide what I need to worry about,” I say.
“I have a . . . suspicion. It’s not confirmed but I feel that the Electress is planning an . . . accident. For your sister.”
“What?” I jump up as if I can run to Hazel right now, as if I could protect her. I have to protect her. “You work for her, find out what she’s planning and stop it!”
“I do not know if she is even planning anything,” Lucien says. “All I know is that the more enthusiasm the Exetor expresses for this engagement, the more furious she becomes at it. She has made some comments that lead me to believe—”
“She’d do it just out of spite,” I say. “She’d do it to get back at the Duchess.”
“Yes, but you see—”
“Ugh, these people!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Don’t they get that she is someone’s sister, someone’s daughter, someone’s friend?”
“No,” Lucien says dryly. “And I think you’d understand that better than anyone.”
His words cut but not as deeply as the thought of Hazel being assassinated. I thought I would have time. Time to get to her, to free her. Time to explain, time to apologize.
Lucien can’t save her. He can’t watch her twenty-four hours a day. He has other priorities, and as much as he cares for me, he would sacrifice Hazel if it meant saving the city.
“I’m going to the Jewel,” I say. “Now. Tonight.”
“Violet, don’t be—”
“I’m going,” I snap, cutting him off. “What would you do if it was Azalea? It’s my fault Hazel is there at all. The Duchess took her to get to me. I know it, I feel it. If I can’t protect her now, I . . .” My voice trails off because I can’t finish that sentence.
“And how exactly do you plan on getting here?”
“I’ll take a train to the Bank. I can burrow under the wall surrounding the Jewel as easily as Southgate.” Okay, maybe not quite as easily, but it’s the same general idea.
“Not only is that a foolhardy plan that could give the game away, but what do you intend to do once you are in the Jewel itself? Walk up to the Duchess’s palace and ring the doorbell? Think, Violet. There are bigger things at stake here than personal struggles.”
“And if I don’t try and save Hazel now, then I don’t know what I’m fighting for at all,” I say.
“You would be recognized,” Lucien says. “It’s too—”
I gasp, an idea occurring to me—a crazy, rash idea that I’m not even sure is possible. But I’m willing to try anything at this point. Without another word I turn and run upstairs, ignoring the shouted questions from Sil and Raven, Lucien’s tinny voice demanding to know what’s going on.
Ash and I sleep in the barn together, but we keep our clothes in Raven’s room. There are other clothes as well, which Sil has collected over the years. One dress I remember distinctly, because it reminded me so much of the servant’s dresses Raven and I used to disguise ourselves in the Bank. I comb through the closet, find it, and yank it off the hanger—it is plain and brown, a little small across the chest but it will do. I pull it on and look at myself in the mirror. Slowly, I raise a hand and knot it in my hair.
Once to see it as it is. Twice to see it in your mind. Thrice to bend it to your will.
My scalp tingles as my hair turns from black to gold. The headache that comes with performing an Augury throbs at the base of my skull. This is how I disguised Ash when we sneaked into his companion house. It’s strange to use it on m
yself. I turn my head back and forth, examining the unfamiliar strands of blond.
But it’s my eyes that are the real problem. If I can’t change them, the Duchess will spot me instantly.
I close them now. I think I can do this without physically putting my fingers on my eyeballs—the thought gives me the creeps. I just need to focus hard enough on what I want. The picture forms crystalline in my mind.
Once to see it as it is. Twice to see it in your mind. Thrice to bend it to your will.
Unlike with my hair, this Augury is agony. I scream and clap my hands over my eyes. They boil in their sockets, burning like little balls of fire. Just when I don’t think I can bear it any longer, the pain stops. I stay hunched over for a moment, breathing heavily.
When I open my eyes, a stranger stares back at me in the mirror. A blond-haired, green-eyed stranger with my nose and chin. I quickly use the second Augury, Shape, to adjust the lines of my face. It hurts almost as much as my eyes, but at the end, my chin is a bit rounder, my forehead higher, my nose a little larger.
“Violet, are you—” Raven stops short in the doorway, gaping at me. “What did you do?”
“I’m going to the Jewel,” I say, walking past her and back downstairs to where Lucien is probably still losing it on the arcana.
Olive shrieks as I enter the living room. Indi drops the plate she’s drying. Sienna gapes. Sil looks shocked for a split second, but then I see the faintest hint of pride in her eyes.
“I told him,” she says, over Lucien’s voice, which is still coming through the arcana. “You’re too damned stubborn.”
“What’s happening?” he demands. “Why did she scream? Sil, answer me!”
“I’m going to the Jewel, Lucien,” I say. “I’ll get myself to the Duchess’s palace. I’ll watch over my sister until the Auction.”
Lucien starts laughing. In fact, he laughs for so long that Sil and I exchange a worried glance. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But this is too much, even for you. How long do you expect to stay free once the Duchess discovers you in her own palace? How do you plan to protect your sister when you are a captive yourself? Or maybe the Duchess will simply kill you for fun, now that she no longer requires your body to produce a child.”
