Beyond the Ruby Veil

by Mara Fitzgerald

  She cuts herself off, like she can’t bear to say it.

  “As they were beating me, there was only one thought that kept me going,” she continues, quieter. “I thought of you. My people. I thought of what would happen to you if I was gone.”

  The people all around me are trembling.

  “I managed to get to safety,” she says. “I went to my brother, and he helped me fight the attackers off. But unfortunately… they escaped. I don’t know where they are now. And I’m terrified of what else they might try to do.”

  In an instant, her people are terrified, too. The ones on the edge of the square look around at the dark streets. In spite of myself, I shiver a little.

  “I don’t know who they are or what they want,” Verene says. “There was only one thing they told me. One clue to their motivations. They said… they said that they don’t believe my powers are real. They said that they think I’m just like my mother.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for the crowd to get any quieter. But it has.

  “How could they say that?” Verene says it softly, almost like she’s talking to herself. “Do they not see everything I’ve done? Everything that we’ve done?”

  She turns her eyes back to us, suddenly.

  “We tore down the tower,” she says, and her voice is fiercer. “We changed the rules. We gave our city new life.”

  I know that Verene is a liar and a thief, and yet, in this moment, it’s so hard to believe. Her voice has a fervent sincerity to it. She’s so utterly gripped by her own righteous indignation. I can see exactly how someone weaker-minded than myself would never even think to question her.

  “Do they want to take us backward?” she says. “Do they really think we were better off before? Our city changed because it needed to be changed.”

  It did need to be changed. If nothing else, she’s right about that.

  “Just because things were the same for a thousand years doesn’t mean they have to be the same forever,” she says.

  She’s right about that, too.

  “We saved ourselves,” she says. “And no one has the right to take that away from us.”

  The crowd rustles in agreement. Even the girl next to me has stopped crying. Her wide eyes are on the balcony, transfixed.

  “So,” Verene says. “Are we going to let these attackers spread their lies and hatred, or are we going to protect our home?”

  Verene leans toward us, and everyone around me leans toward her.

  “These are the attackers,” she says. “You know what to do.”

  She reaches down and unrolls a banner tied to the balcony.

  Oh. Right. I don’t know why I was waiting with bated breath to see the terrible miscreants who attacked Iris’s leader. I already know their faces. Rather well, in fact.

  It’s a quick, sloppy painting, but the likeness is unmistakable. Ale is fine-boned and wide-eyed, and I’m… striking. My hair is a mess, but my face is razor sharp and my eyes are dark and knowing. I look so alive.

  I’ve never seen a painting of myself. It’s not something we do in Occhia. Only saints get paintings.

  My heart is pounding. I have the brief, ridiculous thought that this is the most exciting thing anyone has ever done for me.

  And then Ale dives on me, pushing me to the ground.

  “This is bad,” he whispers. He has his jacket over both of us, trying to hide our faces. “This is so bad—oh God—what’s happening—”

  The crowd has started to run. They’re leaving the square in a stampede. They all seem to be suddenly filled with purpose.

  “We have to move with them, or we’ll be crushed.” I urge Ale up. “Stay low—but not in a suspicious way—”

  It’s chaos. Ale and I are swept onto one of the streets without even really trying. We cling to each other as, all around us, people shout and scramble into their houses. The doors to the manors slam shut, one by one. I can hear the click of locking doors up and down the street. A woman nearby gives a final, anxious peek out her window before she pulls it closed and shuts the curtains.

  I yank Ale into the nearest alley. On my hands and knees, I crawl to the mouth and peer out.

  For a long moment, the street is totally empty. Then, I see the glow of lantern light at the far end, and a group of people turns the corner. They’re holding all sorts of things—wine bottles and fire irons and, in one case, a rock that appears to have just been pried off the street. They huddle together, like they’re receiving instructions.

  Footsteps on the other side of the street draw my attention. There’s another group. They, too, have an uncomfortable amount of weapons in their possession.

  Both groups break apart. They race in every direction, in twos and threes. They check each alley they pass, weapons poised.

  We’re being hunted. Again.

  TWELVE

  TWO WOMEN WIELDING WINE BOTTLES STALK CLOSER TO US. Silently, I push Ale in the other direction. We emerge onto a street that, for the time being, is mercifully empty. We press ourselves against the wall of a shuttered manor.

  “So,” I whisper, “Verene doesn’t have guards, but she can turn her people into a mob on a moment’s notice. That’s a fun trick.”

  I wish I could do that. One day I’ll be able to do that.

  “Where are we going to go?” Ale’s face is very white in the dark. “We can’t go into the catacombs, because of the ghost.”

  “The ghost?” I say.

  “I’ve decided that the blood-eating creature in the catacombs was a ghost,” he says. “Since the catacombs are obviously haunted. I knew it all along.”

  “If that makes you feel better,” I say.

  “It doesn’t,” he says.

  “So we can’t go into the catacombs,” I muse. “Or any of the manors.”

  And we obviously can’t go back to the cathedral.

  There’s only one thing I can think to do. With another look around, I get to my feet and gesture for Ale to follow.

  It takes a long time to sneak through the winding streets. It takes much longer than I wish it would. We have to stick to the shadows, our eyes constantly peeled for the glow of lantern light. The city feels tense, and the manors are all unnaturally quiet. Once or twice, I see a curtain flick aside as someone peeks out.

  But at last, I see the vaulted roofs of the greenhouses up ahead. They surround the edge of the city. I’ve visited the ones in Occhia before, when my papá took me. He showed me that some families have their own, passed down since the city began. Other families, like ours, rely on the limited rations from the public food supply. My papá wanted me to understand that, no matter how much I thought I had, I could always have more. He told me that the people who have the most hold on to it the tightest, and if I wanted it, I’d have to take it for myself.

  “Are those the greenhouses?” Ale whispers. “Maybe we should turn back.”

  Ale’s family owns five greenhouses, because of course they do. If our wedding had gone through, I would own five greenhouses.

  “That’s where we’re going,” I say.

  “What?” he says. “Why?”

  Because Verene said that there’s a group of people in Iris who don’t believe in her powers, and they meet here in secret. She said that they’ve been snooping around the catacombs, trying to spy on her. Maybe I can find them. And maybe they know something about her that I don’t.

  “Because I’m still feeling peckish,” I say, which is also true.

  Unfortunately for my peckishness, the first greenhouse we enter has nothing but lettuce, arranged in neat rows under the glass ceiling. The next one is more promising. The ceiling and the walls are covered in lush grapevines, with two trellises running down the middle. I make my way to the far side, then start munching. I try to think about how I would go about organizing a secret group in this network of glass buildings. Ale watches me anxiously.

  “Emanuela,” he says, “the mob is going to search here eventually. If they trap us, and we st
ill have no idea how to get past the ghost—”

  The door opens. In a scramble, Ale and I dive for the nearest trellis. There’s a wheelbarrow full of gardening supplies sitting there, and we crouch behind it for extra cover.

  Soft footsteps make their way across the stone floor. I peek through the leaves of the grapevines, and my heart leaps uncomfortably into my throat. It’s the last person I expected—Verene. She’s almost unrecognizable in nondescript clothes, a handkerchief over her face and her hair stuffed underneath a cap. After her ridiculous, frilly gown, it’s odd seeing her in pants. I feel like I’m being bombarded with the fact that she has legs.

  “Oh, look,” she says, brushing the grapes with a gloved hand. “My favorite.”

  Theo trudges in behind her. He’s also changed into a drab ensemble. He doesn’t look like he’s having a good time. I’m not sure what, exactly, would prompt him to have a good time, but it’s definitely not this.

  “Anyway.” Verene turns back to him. “They saw the vide with their own eyes. They saw how we summon it. If they tell the Red Roses, well… it’s more information than any of them need to have.”

  It’s strangely thrilling that she’s figured out my plan already. Now I have to plan faster.

  “Vee.” Theo rubs his eyes. “There’s fifteen people in the Red Roses, and everyone else thinks they’re paranoid. They’re not our problem. Our problem is the intruders from the other city who are loose—”

  “That’s fifteen people too many,” she snaps.

  The subject of people who don’t believe in her magic and aren’t exuberant about her rule strikes such a nerve with her. It’s fascinating.

  She rips a couple of grapes off their stems and pops them into her mouth, surveying the greenhouse in front of her. Then she starts walking again, and Theo follows her. He’s eyeing each and every single leaf with distaste.

  “The intruders will come here,” she says. “They’re trapped, and they know it. They’re going to get desperate. They’re going to start trying to use anything they can against us.”

  She stops. Her eyes flit to the trellis Ale and I are hiding behind. I hold very still.

  “And then,” she says, “they’re going to find out what happens to people who threaten our city. They’re going to be sorry they ever—Wait.”

  I tense, but she’s looking over her shoulder now.

  “You’re bleeding again,” she says, reaching for Theo.

  “Am I?” He sighs. “Maybe I should just go ahead and die.”

  “Oh, stop it. Let me see.” She rolls up his shirt to look at the knife wound on his side and wrinkles her nose. “The stitches ripped. Sit down.”

  He resists her tugging. “Not right there. It’s dirty.”

  “You know what else is dirty?” she says. “Dripping your blood all over the floor to summon a—”

  “I still have standards,” he says.

  She forces him down, his back against the trellis opposite ours. She kneels at his side, pulls fresh gauze out of her pocket, and wraps him up quickly, like she’s always prepared for this exact situation.

  “Marie will have to fix it properly later,” she says.

  “I just knew they were bad news,” Theo mutters. “I knew from the moment I saw them at the door. I never should have let them in.”

  “We’re going to stop them,” Verene says.

  “She had that insufferable face,” he says. “And he had those giant, creepy eyes. And he was in my study… looking at all my things.…”

  “You mean your boring diagrams of fountain pipes?” Verene says. “What could he have found to use against us there?”

  “I don’t know,” Theo says darkly. “But he was trying.”

  I glance at Ale. His hand is pressed anxiously against his shirt pocket.

  If they knew we had the map of the eight cities, they wouldn’t be happy. Anyone who saw it would start to ask questions. Even someone completely devoted to Verene.

  Verene pushes a loose curl back under her cap. “This is exactly why we destroyed all her information. So no one can find it and use it for their own purposes.”

  “I know,” Theo says.

  “Even if they did see the vide, they haven’t seen the rest,” she says. “The cities. The… the source of the magic. They don’t know everything, and they never will.”

  “I know,” he says. “It’s just…”

  He hesitates. He has the look of someone who’s about to have an emotion and is desperately trying to fight it off.

  “They almost killed you,” he says finally, and I hear the tiniest crack in his voice.

  Verene’s face softens. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you? I know it’s your dream to be the Heart of Iris. I know you secretly wish all the fountains had pretty statues of you.”

  “I am prettier,” he says.

  She punches him in the arm. Then, abruptly, she sighs and leans into him. She puts her chin on his shoulder and closes her eyes and for a moment, she just rests there. He sits patiently, like he’d let her stay for hours if she needed.

  But he’s also quietly fiddling with his gloves. There’s something strange and agitated about it.

  Verene pulls away and stands up. “We need to search faster. I’m not letting anyone else get the satisfaction of catching her.”

  Me. She’s talking about me. It’s obvious, of course, but the knowledge gives me a little thrill.

  Her gaze goes, one more time, to the trellis that I’m hiding behind. It lingers for a little too long, like maybe the shadows look different to her than they did before. I hold my breath.

  But she turns away. We stay crouched between the wheelbarrow as the greenhouse door opens and shuts. I listen to their footsteps fade away.

  “He knows I took it,” Ale whispers.

  “What?” I say.

  “He knows I took the map,” he says. “That was when we started fighting. He was trying to get it back.” He hesitates. “Why isn’t he telling her?”

  I don’t know. My eyes go back to the trellis where the twins were sitting.

  “And did you hear anything that will get us closer to figuring out how to stop the ghost?” Ale continues.

  “The vide, you mean?” I say. “That’s what they called it.”

  “The vide, then,” he says. “Did you hear anything… useful?”

  I heard a lot of things that could be useful. I don’t fully understand them yet. But I want to. I need to.

  “Give me the map,” I say. If it’s even more important than we thought, it’s obvious which one of us should be carrying it.

  Ale fiddles with his shirt pocket. I don’t know why he looks so reluctant. It’s not like it’s his personal map.

  “Are you willing to stab someone again to protect it?” I say. “Because I am.”

  He hands it over. I unfold it and examine it once more. I study the maze of tunnels between Occhia and Iris, and for the first time, I notice that one path has been gone over several more times, emphasized in red ink. It connects the center of Iris to the watercrea’s tower in Occhia. And then, it connects every other tower in every other city. From underground well to underground well, forming a ring of water.

  For a moment, I survey the six other cities. I try to imagine what their rulers are like. I try to imagine what these mysterious people I’ve never met are doing right now, as night turns to early morning. There’s so much else out there. There’s so much to see and so much to do.

  “What are you looking at?” Ale says. “Is there something else—”

  I fold the map up and shove it in my pocket. Ale starts to stand up.

  “Wait.” I grab his sleeve and pull him back down.

  “What?” he says. “Didn’t you hear them walk away?”

  But I saw the way Verene studied our trellis. If she really wanted to find me, she should have ventured back here and searched more thoroughly. And she looked like she really wanted to find me.

  I open up the basket I’ve b
een lugging around. “It’s time for a change of clothes.”

  As it turns out, the disguises I hastily stole from a garden party leave something to be desired. There’s only enough for me. I refuse to part with my green dress, in case I need to look fabulous later, so I tuck the skirts around my hips and stuff myself into a pair of pants. I pull a cap low over my eyes. As a finishing touch, I take some of the chocolate spread from the basket and smear it on my lip.

  “What?” I say as Ale eyes me. “Are you jealous of my mustache?”

  He’s always wanted a mustache.

  “What am I supposed to do?” he says.

  “Get in the wheelbarrow,” I say. “I’ll hide you and take us to the next greenhouse so we can keep searching. Would Verene dare attack a lone worker going about their business?”

  “I’m not going to fit in the wheelbarrow,” he says.

  “I’ll make you fit,” I say.

  “But—” he says.

  I make him fit. When I cover him with a tarp, he looks like a pile of anxious bones.

  “Don’t fidget,” I tell him, and start pushing.

  The door to the greenhouse, like the rest of it, is made of glass. I don’t see any signs of life on the dark street outside, so I head toward it with all the confidence I possess.

  Then I discover that the door has been locked from the outside.

  “Oh,” I say. “I see.”

  “What?” Ale says, muffled.

  I don’t know why Verene thinks she can lock me in a room made of glass. I have no qualms about breaking one of Iris’s pretty little buildings.

  I back up.

  “Stay under the tarp, Ale,” I say.

  “What?” he says, squeakier.

  I’m bracing myself for the charge when everything goes dark. I try to breathe and find that I can’t.

  There’s a bag over my head. Somebody is grabbing my wrists. They’re tying me up.

  “This is my city,” Verene’s voice says in my ear. “I know it better than you ever will. I even know how to climb through a greenhouse window without being—”

  There’s a loud crash that sounds very much like the wheelbarrow falling over.

  “Theo!” Verene says. “What are you doing? You can’t let him get away—”