The Black Key

by Amy Ewing

  The room is silent except for the whimpering of the Count. Raven stands in the window, staring at the spot where the Countess vanished, her chest heaving.

  “She’s gone,” she whispers to no one, or maybe to herself, confirming it aloud so she can truly believe it’s real. Her knees give out and she falters. Garnet is by her side in an instant, sweeping her into his arms.

  “She’s gone,” Raven sobs into his chest.

  “She is,” he murmurs into her hair. “She can’t hurt you anymore. She can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  Raven takes a deep, shuddering breath and looks up into his eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment. Garnet gently traces a line around the bruise on her cheek with his finger. It’s such a deeply personal thing to witness, I have to look away, out the door to where the empty safe room for the House of the Lake reminds me this day isn’t over yet.

  “The Duchess still has Hazel,” I say.

  Ash nods. “Where would they go?” he asks. “To the palace of the Lake? One of the palaces nearby?”

  “No,” Garnet says with grim resignation. “I bet I know exactly where she’s gone. Follow me.”

  We run back down the stairs, into the bloody foyer, and out the ruined front doors.

  “This way,” Garnet says, pointing to where lines of motorcars wait to pick up royals who are never leaving this Auction House again.

  We sprint to a car, Garnet and Raven in the front, Ash and I in the backseat. Garnet rips out the ignition and plays with the wires until the engine roars to life. We speed through the mostly empty streets of the Jewel, catching glimpses of befuddled servants and bursts of fighting among Regimentals and Society members. Many of the palaces, I note, are being looted, their gates broken down, their windows smashed.

  “Where are we going?” Raven asks.

  Suddenly, the earth shakes beneath us, the motorcar skidding on the paved road. In the distance, smoke and dust rise up; then a few hunks of rubble are lobbed through the air.

  “Sil,” I say with satisfaction, and Ash’s fingers close around mine.

  “You can bring them all down,” he says. “Every wall in this city. Lucien will be so proud.”

  My throat closes up.

  “Lucien’s dead,” I say. Ash looks confused for a second, like those two words don’t make sense together. Then his lips form a thin line and he blinks very fast.

  “Oh,” is all he says.

  “Garnet, where are we going?” Raven demands again.

  “The Royal Palace,” Garnet says through gritted teeth.

  The home the Duchess always wanted but was just out of reach. The place she felt she was destined to have as her own.

  “Of course,” I murmur.

  Twenty-Six

  GARNET SLAMS THE ACCELERATOR DOWN AND WE PEEL through the streets.

  The palaces whip by until we are in the forest, a blur of greens and browns, then past the topiary, until finally, he pulls up in front of the fountain of trumpeting boys.

  The doors of the Royal Palace are open. When we get inside, the halls are empty.

  “I’ll bet my entire inheritance she’s gone to the throne room,” Garnet says.

  “Which way?” I ask, and he takes off down the opulent main hallway. We pass the ballroom where I played cello at the Exetor’s Ball, and I glimpse the garden where I spoke to Ash in the gazebo that same night, before we make a sharp left.

  The sound of voices stops us in our tracks. Garnet holds up a hand and we creep to the end of the hall, the plush carpet muffling our footsteps. He peers around the corner, then pulls his head back quickly.

  “Seven Reg,” he mouths. Ash withdraws his sword as Garnet unholsters his gun. Raven crouches into a fighting stance. I join with Air, and for one second, I allow myself to revel in the blissful freedom of the element.

  Then I focus it, calling the wind to me from the hundred halls in this palace, and it comes whistling and shrieking. Garnet, Ash, and Raven whirl around the corner as I send it flying at the Regimentals.

  What happens next is a blur. Crunches and shouts and thuds, Ash’s sword sings through the air, guns go off, and all the while I fill the room with wind so fierce and biting it makes my own eyes burn and water.

  When I hear Ash shout, “Stop!” I release my hold on the element and everything settles. Regimentals are splayed out everywhere, some dead, some only unconscious. The room has an arched ceiling painted with murals depicting the four seasons, and stained-glass windows as tall as Garnet, their jewel tones spilling across the black-and-white tile floor. In the center of the room is a dais on which sit two immense, opulent thrones. The arms are scaled and end in snake heads with rubies for eyes. Enormous golden wings spread out from either side of each throne, and their seats are covered in crimson velvet.

  The Duchess sits in one, her skirts tangled about her legs, looking utterly nonplussed at this latest development. Her fingers grip the snakes like claws when she sees her son.

  “Garnet?” she gasps. Hazel is on the floor beside her, still leashed. Her face lights up when she sees me. Cora and Carnelian are behind her—Cora gapes at Garnet, but Carnelian only has eyes for Ash.

  “Hello, Mother,” he says, as if they’ve just sat down to breakfast. “Not your typical Auction Day, is it?”

  “You . . . you’re with them?” The Duchess spits out the word. Her gaze lands on Raven, then Ash, then me. “Fighting with whores and servants?”

  “You mean fighting alongside human beings?” Garnet says. “Yes, Mother. I am.”

  The Duchess sneers. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re more like your father than you ever were like me.”

  Garnet pretends to consider for a moment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You’d rather be a weakling?”

  “Better a weakling than a murderer,” I say, stepping forward.

  The Duchess stands and I see she holds a dagger in one hand, presumably the same one the Exetor gave her. Its handle is studded with gemstones, its blade engraved in swirling lines of silver. “I will not suffer a mere lady-in-waiting to speak to me in such a manner. When this ridiculous rebellion is over, I will have your tongue cut out. I will have your head on a spike. I will—”

  “You will have nothing,” I say, walking forward slowly. “You have no power in this city. And I am no mere lady-in-waiting.”

  I will not be afraid of her anymore.

  And she will see me for who I truly am.

  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 blond to black. My nose aches as it returns to its normal size, my forehead shrinking. I save my eyes for last. They burn like hot embers sizzling in my skull, but I force myself to keep them open while they revert back to their natural violet. I want to see the Duchess’s face as she realizes it’s me.

  I am not disappointed.

  Her mouth falls open. The dagger clatters to the floor, just out of Hazel’s reach—she makes a grab for it but the chain holds her back. The Duchess snatches the dagger away and grabs Hazel by the hair, yanking her upright and pressing the blade against her throat.

  “Stay back,” she says.

  “Violet,” Hazel croaks.

  “You will not hurt her,” I hiss. I consider joining with Air and throwing the Duchess off the dais, but that could end in Hazel with her throat cut.

  “So,” the Duchess says, looking more comfortable now that she’s got my sister’s life to hold over me, “you have returned. I wondered if you would. That’s part of the reason I took her in the first place. I thought perhaps you might get caught trying to save her.” She raises one eyebrow. “You disguised yourself well, I’ll give you that.”

  Ash, Raven, and Garnet have formed a loose half circle around me. Cora watches my every step eagerly, waiting for her own revenge.

  “And the rest of the reason?” I ask.

  The Duchess shrugs. “Well, I was hoping she’
d have your abilities, of course, but it became evident rather quickly that she was not the surrogate you were. A child was not possible.” Something flickers in her eyes—regret maybe?—but it vanishes before I can make sense of it.

  She pulls Hazel’s head back farther. “When you escaped with the whore, I thought I was finished. I thought I would never get the thing I truly wanted, for my daughter to rule as I should have. But . . . what is that quaint saying you have in the lower circles? When all you have left is lemons, make lemonade? I saw an opportunity. Why give a child the life that should have been mine? The Electress is so simple and stupid, so easy to manipulate. Why not use that to my advantage? After all, she did such a lovely job of shouting to anyone and everyone in the Jewel about how she hated me, how she did not wish a match with my House. She was jealous. Jealousy is a petty emotion. It pollutes the mind. It makes you rash. Because she had everything and she did not appreciate it. Even worse, she did not deserve it in the first place.”

  “So you stole my sister and went over the Electress’s head to make a match with the Exetor?”

  “Well deduced,” the Duchess says with a sneer. “And once Onyx realized there was a chance to be together again . . . well, we would do anything for each other. Even kill his Bank-trash wife. That is the depth of our love.”

  “Where is he, then?” I ask, gesturing around. “It looks like he’s abandoned you.”

  “Oh no,” the Duchess says. “He will never abandon me again.”

  Something in her tone makes me uncomfortable. Cora looks unnerved as well—she glances about the room, but it’s empty except for the eight of us.

  “But he did once,” I say, trying to find a weak spot. My eyes flicker to the dagger still pressed to Hazel’s neck. “He left you. He married the Electress.”

  “Don’t speak as if you know anything about him,” the Duchess snaps. “He never chose to leave me. We were forced apart.” She raises her head proudly. “We love each other. More than any two people have ever loved before. We made something beautiful together and they took it, they ripped it from me even as I begged them not to. They called it a monster, the life that was growing inside me.” There is a wild look in her eyes. “It’s not fair!” she cries. “You poor, stupid, useless surrogates can bear a child and I cannot.”

  I am stunned. The Duchess was pregnant? Royal women are sterilized upon marriage, but clearly, the Duchess and Exetor slept together before that. I hear a gasp from Garnet. Even Cora seems shocked. It would have ruined the Duchess’s House forever if the news got out.

  Her eyes are bright with tears even as her hands shake with anger. A thick drop of blood oozes from the point of the blade and drips down Hazel’s neck.

  “What a little fool I was,” the Duchess whispers. “To think they’d let me keep it.”

  For a moment, I can see her, the Duchess, young and in love. Who might she have grown into, had things gone differently?

  “I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say. Carnelian tears her eyes away from Ash to give me a shocked look. It exactly mirrors the expression on the Duchess’s face, and for the first time since I’ve known them, I can see that they are related.

  The Duchess’s shock melts away to scorn. “I don’t need your pity,” she says. “Nor do I want it.”

  “That’s the difference between us,” I say. “You see pity. You see weakness. I see compassion. I see strength. But when you suffer, you feel you must make others suffer around you. You allowed this tragedy to turn you into something cold and cruel. You murdered Dahlia, a girl whose name you didn’t even know, who had done nothing to you. You poisoned her out of spite. You killed Annabelle for no reason except to punish me. You took away a beautiful life on a whim, to make a point. You might have become something great, Pearl,” I say, taking a note from Raven’s book and addressing the Duchess as an equal, “and instead you are just another petty, sniping royal.”

  “She is infinitely more than that,” a low voice says. The Exetor steps out of the shadows as his guard files into the room, marching in unison, their red jackets matching the seats of the thrones.

  “Onyx,” the Duchess says with relief. “I was wondering where you were.”

  No less than twenty Regimentals surround us, all carrying rifles.

  We are trapped.

  Twenty-Seven

  THE EXETOR SAUNTERS OVER TO KISS THE DUCHESS ON the cheek, ignoring Hazel struggling between them.

  “I was going to send these men out into the city,” he says, “but then I heard voices and thought I should check on you.”

  “I’m so glad you did, my darling. You remember my old surrogate, 197. She’s come back to rescue her sister.”

  “Just as you suspected,” the Exetor says. His gaze lands on Garnet. “What is he doing here?”

  “He’s with them,” the Duchess says. “Always such a disappointment.”

  The Exetor traces the line of the Duchess’s jaw with a finger. “You deserved better,” he says.

  They don’t even look at us. Garnet’s lone pistol is nothing against all those rifles. Neither is Ash’s sword.

  “So,” the Duchess says, turning to me, “how long were you working with the eunuch?”

  My brain is spinning furiously, trying to come up with a solution to get us out of this. The best thing to do is keep her talking while I figure out a plan.

  “He had a name,” I say.

  “I’m fully aware of Lucien’s name, I simply don’t—”

  “He had a name and it wasn’t Lucien. Do you even understand why all of this is happening?” I gesture out a window depicting a sunset in a blaze of color. “Can you even conceive of what you have done to the people of this city? To the island itself?”

  The Duchess’s smile is icy. “You are a foolish little girl. This island would be nothing without us. We made it great. We created something where there was nothing before.”

  “There wasn’t nothing,” I say. “There were people here, and your ancestors, the ones you are so proud of, killed them all. Or at least, they thought they did.”

  The Duchess stiffens and the Exetor looks confused.

  “What is she talking about?” he asks.

  “I have no idea,” the Duchess replies.

  It’s my turn to smile. “What did you think Lucien was doing in your library? Catching up on royal history? You people. You haven’t changed at all. Taking whatever you want. Did you really think you killed all the Paladin?”

  “All the what?” Carnelian asks, but no one answers her.

  “How do you know about that?” the Duchess hisses.

  “Because I am one of them,” I say. “Who do you think brought that wall down? You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  “Prove it, then.” The Duchess yanks Hazel’s head back farther so that she cries out in pain. “All I’ve seen from you thus far is a little bit of wind. Prove your strength. Kill me now, if you can.”

  I think about it. I think about the ceiling collapsing on her head, Air snapping her neck, drowning her in the water I can sense in a garden just outside.

  But I am not the Duchess. I do not solve my problems the way she does, with violence and blood.

  “I could,” I say carefully, “but I won’t.”

  The Duchess laughs, a high, echoing laugh. “I could but I won’t,” she says, mimicking me. “Oh, that is rich.”

  The Exetor joins in. Cora is livid. She takes a step forward.

  “You promised you would kill her!” she cries.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, at the same time the Duchess says, “I beg your pardon?”

  “You murdered my daughter,” Cora cries, whirling around to face her mistress. “Did you think I wouldn’t care? Did you honestly believe I felt nothing for her?”

  The Duchess levels Cora with one look. The lady-in-waiting withers. “I should have drowned that runt when she was born,” the Duchess says. “You were lucky you got to know her at all.”

  “Can you even hear your
self, Mother?” Garnet says. “Annabelle was . . . she was the best person in that entire palace. She was wholly innocent. She was good.”

  “No one is wholly innocent,” the Duchess says. “If you believe that, you are even more stupid than I thought.” Her eyes flash to something behind me. “Let’s start with the companion, shall we?”

  We have all been so focused on what’s in front of us, that none of us have looked back. I whirl around now, just as three of the Exetor’s guard descend on Ash, two grabbing his arms and throwing his sword aside as another holds a gun to his temple.

  “No!” Carnelian and I scream together.

  The Regimental holding the gun has a broad, ugly face and a gold tooth that glints at me when he smiles. He has a brutish look, as if he enjoys hurting people.

  Ash keeps his eyes trained on mine and mouths one word. Hazel.

  I know what he means but I can’t. I can’t make that choice. His eyes drink me in as if it’s the last time. As if he’ll never see me again.

  “Take me!” Carnelian offers. “Kill me instead. Please! Just don’t hurt him.”

  It is such a brave statement. I tear my gaze away from Ash to look at her face, stricken with fear but sincere. She would truly die for Ash. I can’t believe I once thought her annoying, small-minded. I hated her for all the wrong reasons.

  “Carnelian, stop, you’re embarrassing yourself.” The Duchess doesn’t even spare her niece a glance. She looks gleeful at this turn of events. More blood drips down Hazel’s neck. “What could anyone possibly gain from that? Alive or dead, you are nothing to me. This companion risked his own life to be with a surrogate. Do you see that? He does not love you. Even your own mother preferred death to your company. What will it take for you to grasp the concept that no one wants you?”

  Even I feel the sting of her words, how they cut right to Carnelian’s core, a place that has been slashed by grief and cruelty a hundred times over.

  Quick as lightning, I join with Air. It’s like it’s been waiting for my call.

  The Duchess gives me one last disdainful glance. “Kill them all,” she says in a bored tone, but I am ready and I will not let her hurt me or my friends.