Beyond the Ruby Veil

by Mara Fitzgerald

  I press my knife against my unblemished hand. I hold my breath and slice, quick and decisive. I squeeze it out over the floor again. And again. And again.

  “Listen up, you gluttonous thing,” I say to the shadow underneath me. “We’ve given you more than enough, so you’d better—”

  The floor opens up beneath us.

  And everything goes black.

  I’m flying through the air, and I have no idea which way is up until I hit the ground, hard.

  I struggle to suck in a breath, suddenly desperate for air. Traveling inside the vide was quick but deeply disorienting. I felt like I was dragged into a black room and tossed onto its floor like a doll. All I wanted to do was get up and look around, but I couldn’t. My body wasn’t listening to me.

  I wonder if being dead feels anything like that.

  There’s a heavy thump beside me, and I turn to see Ale, lying with his back to me. I sit up and reach for him. I shake his shoulders, and he doesn’t move.

  “Ale?” I say. It comes out as more of a whimper.

  He’s passed out. He’s lost so much blood, and it’s still seeping out of his face.

  This is my fault. I was supposed to be with him the whole time. I was supposed to protect him.

  Then I realize that the shadow is still hovering next to him. It’s quietly sucking up the blood pooling below his empty eye socket.

  “Stop it,” I hiss at the vide, suddenly furious.

  We’re lying at the foot of a staircase that looks just like the one we left. Up above, a door is cracked open to reveal the red light of the veil.

  If we’re not really back in Occhia, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  I start dragging Ale up the stairs. The vide follows us.

  “Stop!” I say, aware that it’s probably not going to do any good. “Leave him alone.”

  I reach the door and shove it open.

  We’re back in our city. The manors all around me are dark and quiet underneath the glowing red veil of midday. The narrow cobblestone streets are empty. Everything looks so dry and deserted and… dead.

  Maybe it is. Maybe they’re gone, and this was all for nothing. Maybe I’m going to have to sit here alone and watch Ale bleed to death.

  No. If there’s anyone still here, they’re going to find us, and they’re going to help him right now.

  “Hello!” I yell.

  It echoes. For a moment, everything is still.

  Then I hear footsteps. I spot a flash of movement at the end of the street, and three guards in red coats are barreling toward me. They grab me, knocking the knife out of my hands. In an instant, there are chains around my wrists. One of them notices Ale and moves for him.

  “I stabbed him,” I say. “He wasn’t loyal to me. Perhaps you can still save him. Perhaps not.”

  The guards mutter to one another. One of them wrestles Ale into his arms. He runs off down the street, much faster than I’d ever have been able to, and my head spins in relief.

  One of the guards grabs the end of my chain and pulls me forward.

  “How long has it been?” I say.

  “Three days,” he says.

  “Is the water gone?” I say. “Has anyone died?”

  “Oh, people have died, all right,” he says. “Some because of the water. Some because of the riots. I suppose you’re happy about that.”

  I don’t know why I’d be happy about that. It’s not like I just woke up one day and decided it would be hilarious to kill the watercrea.

  “I know how to get us water,” I say.

  “Sure you do,” he says.

  Fine. He can put me in a jail cell if it makes him feel better. He’ll realize the error of his ways soon enough.

  After the dazzling white streets of Iris, my city feels so dark. I immediately see what the guard meant when he said there were riots. The black manors have broken windows and boarded-up doors. The cobblestone is littered with debris and abandoned clothes. People died right here, in the street, fighting over the few drops we had left.

  A dark anger simmers low in my belly. If Verene hadn’t stolen from our underground well, this wouldn’t have happened. We could have lasted three days while I found an answer for us.

  I was right to destroy her city the way I did. I won’t feel bad about it.

  “Murderer!”

  The voice comes from somewhere over my head. I crane my neck to see a woman leaning out the top window of the nearest manor.

  “Murderer!” she says again.

  And I realize she’s talking to me.

  “You’ve killed us all!”

  This voice comes from the other side of the street.

  “Push her off the top of the tower! It’s what she deserves.”

  That’s from a man in the nearest doorway.

  The guard picks up the pace, but the yelling only gets louder. It’s coming from everywhere. It’s a little terrifying, but it’s also, somehow, a little exhilarating. My people never protested what the watercrea did. They always just stood by and let it happen. It’s nice to see them finally getting angry about how bad things are.

  We turn a corner, and my blood runs cold. We’re in front of the House of Morandi. The watercrea’s red silk gown is still lying in the street, right where she died. It’s surrounded by roses and flickering prayer candles.

  They’re mourning her like she was special.

  She wasn’t special.

  Then we pass my family’s house, and I wish we hadn’t. The door is barely hanging on by a single hinge. The windows are all shattered.

  “Where are they?” I ask the guard.

  “Why do you care?” he says.

  Because they’re my family. I have to save them. I have to show them that I’m the best of us.

  We reach the cathedral, and the guard starts to pull me around the side, along a path that’s entirely too familiar.

  No. We’re not supposed to be going this way.

  “Oh good,” I say. “I was afraid you were going to put me in a jail cell. But we’re going back to the tower. That makes things easier for me.”

  He ignores me.

  “Because I already know how to break out of it,” I add.

  Nothing.

  The silent black tower is getting closer and closer.

  He can’t put me back in there. There’s no point. There’s no watercrea.

  “Well, good luck explaining this to the lords in Parliament,” I say. “You finally caught the dastardly Emanuela Ragno, and in your most brilliant move ever, you… put her in the exact same place, and she escaped. Again.”

  “You’re not going to escape this time,” the guard says without looking back. “And half the lords in Parliament are gone, so don’t expect an old-fashioned trial. More likely than not, they’re going to assemble what’s left of the city in the cathedral, drop you at the front, and let the mob have its way with you. We’ll see how mouthy you are then.”

  Half of Parliament is gone after just three days. That’s more than I expected. That’s too many.

  We reach the door of the watercrea’s tower. It’s hanging open. The guard tries to drag me inside, and I dig in my heels without even really deciding to. He yanks, and I tumble over the threshold. As soon as the sickly smell of blood hits me, I retch all down my front.

  “Oh, don’t try and make me feel sorry for you,” he says.

  I can’t be in here. I’d rather be in the jail. I’d rather be thrown to a mob. This tower is where I die.

  Two more guards appear from the staircase. They’re carrying chains. Lots of chains. They wrap my arms and my legs until I’m so useless that I can’t even walk. One of them throws me over his shoulder and carries me up the stairs. They open one of the small, round cell doors and stuff me inside. It slams shut.

  I lie there with my face pressed into the cold floor. The guards mutter to one another and thump back down the stairs, and the tower door shuts, and the minutes stretch on, but I can’t seem to move.

&nbs
p; I have this under control, I remind myself. I just have to wait until Ale is better. Ale will get me out of here. And then I’ll bring our water back. I can still bring our water back.

  And then they’ll see. They’ll all see.

  SEVENTEEN

  “EMANUELA. EMANUELA.”

  There’s a soft voice calling my name. I scramble up, awkward in my chains.

  “Ale?” I say. “Are you—”

  There’s a shadowy figure peering through the bars of my cell. It’s not Ale. It’s a man in a crisp black suit. His eyes are sharp, glinting even in the darkness of the tower.

  “Papá?” I whisper.

  He moves in closer. His face is gaunt, and his mustache has grown unkempt. For a moment, we just stare at each other, like we’re trying to make sure the other is really alive.

  “The family,” I say. “Is everyone—”

  “They’re alive,” he says.

  “What about Paola?” I say.

  “Who?” he says.

  “My nursemaid,” I say.

  “The nursemaid who was helping you hide your omen, you mean?” he says. “I don’t know. We dismissed her right after you went to the tower.”

  My skin gets very cold. When I saw Paola, she didn’t mention that. She acted like she was fine.

  “Have you—have you heard anything about Ale?” I say. “Is he—”

  “I’ve heard that he has a giant hole in his face,” he says slowly. “And the guards are saying it was you. He’s not saying a word to anyone.”

  Ale is awake. All of a sudden, I can breathe again.

  “I’ll explain it later,” I say. “But first—I know how to save the city.”

  He gives me a sideways look. “You do?”

  “There’s something else out there, Papá,” I say. “There are other cities under the veil.”

  “There are?” he says, and his disbelief is plain.

  “Yes,” I say. “And one of them was stealing our water. So we can steal it back.”

  “How?” he says.

  “I can do it,” I say. “You just have to let me out.”

  “And what are you going to do?” he says.

  “I’ll show you when I get out,” I say.

  “You can’t get out, little spider,” he says, like the mere thought is ridiculous. “You can’t leave the tower.”

  My heart drops to my feet. “What?”

  “Not yet,” he says. “This situation is very delicate. The people are clamoring for your head. It won’t be safe for you to come out until the water is back.”

  “So you just want me to tell you how to save the city?” I say. “That’s why you’re here?”

  “Isn’t the important thing that the city is saved?” he says.

  I don’t understand. We’re a team. We can save the city together.

  “So?” he says.

  “So?” I echo.

  “What do we need to do to get the water?” he says.

  I draw back. “Why don’t you figure it out yourself?”

  “Don’t be unreasonable,” he says.

  “I’m being very reasonable,” I say. “I’m the one who found the answers. I fought for them. Why should you be the one who gets to—”

  “Think about this logically, Emanuela,” he says. “You have to do what’s best for the whole family. A mob chased us out of our home, you know. Mamma and your brothers… they’re wasting away. All the cousins—they’re so weak. Do you want to make things even worse for them?”

  “Of course not,” I say. “I’m not going to make things worse. I’m going to save us.”

  “Well, you turned the entire city upside down,” he says. “It’s a mess out here. I can’t even begin to describe to you how unruly things have gotten. But we can fix it. Once the House of Ragno saves the city, we’ll start repairing your reputation. It will be grueling, but it can be done. I have some ideas for where to start.”

  This is how it always is. He always has ideas. We always work together.

  But as long as I’m in these chains, we’re not working together.

  “We’ll repair my reputation,” I say slowly.

  “Yes,” he says.

  “And what?” I say. “I’ll go back to the exact same life I had before? The life you set up for me?”

  “Is that not what you want?” he says.

  “I… I don’t know.” I’m realizing it as I say the words. “I don’t know if I want to spend all of my days in Parliament with a bunch of old men and their laws.”

  “You have the mind for it,” he says.

  “I have the mind for many things,” I say. “And Ale and I—we’re best friends. That’s what’s always mattered. Not whether or not we were married.”

  Something flickers in my papá’s eyes.

  “The Morandi boy would be the most valuable husband in the city,” he says. “We can still find a way to—”

  “And the watercrea…” I say.

  If I hadn’t killed the watercrea, I would have spent the rest of my life afraid of the moment she discovered me. I had to stop her. I’m doing exactly what I need to do. Right now, I’m more certain of it than ever.

  “Emanuela,” my papá says. “Your old life was perfect. You don’t have to lose it all just because you…” He pauses. “We can fix all this. Together. What else could you possibly want?”

  He doesn’t understand. I’m not just going to bring the water back. I’m going to save us. I’m going to protect us. I’m going to make sure I’m doing absolutely everything I can for us. There are six other cities across the veil that I haven’t gotten to see yet. There’s a girl in a white gown I still have to defeat—a girl who just got magic and whose next move is now, thrillingly, impossible for me to predict.

  “More,” I say.

  My papá is quiet. But he understands. He must. I got my ambition from him.

  “Well?” I say. “Can I come out now?”

  “There really are other cities?” he says. “There’s a city that has our water?”

  “Yes,” I say breathlessly.

  He hesitates. I wait for him to start picking the lock on my cell.

  “And how do we get the water back?” he says.

  “I—” I falter. “I told you. I can show you. There’s a way to—”

  “Just tell me how, and I’ll do it,” he says as calm as ever.

  “No,” I say, automatically. “I have to show you—”

  He sighs and stands up. “Clearly, you can get to the other cities through the catacombs, since that’s where you came from. So I’ll send another search party down there.”

  “Wait,” I say. “It won’t be that simple. There’s a—” I cut myself off.

  “There’s what?” he says.

  I can’t tell him about the vide. Until I’m out of this cell, I can’t tell him anything.

  He sighs. “I don’t enjoy seeing you in here, Emanuela. I want you out. I do. But things are getting very dire for Occhia. If you can’t control your hysterics for long enough to comprehend my very sensible plan, I’ll do it without you.”

  He starts to turn away, but then he pauses.

  “You’ll thank me later,” he says.

  As if he gets to decide that. As if he gets to decide anything at all about me.

  I throw myself at the bars, and when I hit them, the clang is tremendous. My papá flinches and stumbles back.

  “I can do this without you,” I say.

  His eyes flicker to the chains wrapped around my whole body. “It doesn’t look like it.”

  Then he’s gone, slipping away down the stairs. The tower door creaks open and slams shut.

  I sink down to the floor of my cell. I don’t understand what just happened. I don’t understand why he’s not proud of me. I don’t understand why he doesn’t want me at his side.

  I’ve never seen him flinch the way he flinched when I threw myself at him. He looked… terrified.

  Last time, the tower was mostly silent, but that
was nothing compared to the quiet now. There’s not even the faintest suggestion of breath or movement from the other prisoners. They must have all wasted away and disappeared. There are no guards thumping up and down the stairs. Outside, the cathedral bells aren’t even ringing.

  I feel like I’m the only person in the whole city. All I can do is remind myself that I’m not. I have to be patient.

  But when I’m lying here, alone in the dark, I have nothing to do but relive it all again. The watercrea’s needle in my neck. The cold, sick feeling of my blood being sucked out of me. The quiet defeat of the other prisoners—the sound of a hundred people dying without a fight.

  I turn over and shut my eyes, desperate to block it out. But I can’t. This place is crawling all over my skin and into my ears. It’s telling me I only managed to escape it for three days. It’s telling me that being able to run from my omen for ten years was just luck, and I can’t run forever.

  I know it’s lying. But the longer it talks, the harder it is to fight off.

  Hours later, when I hear the tower door creak open, I sit up and press my face to the bars. I don’t care if it’s an angry mob. I just need to talk to someone.

  “Hello?” I say. My voice sounds so small in the empty stairwell.

  I hear his soft steps and see his long shadow on the floor, and then Ale comes into view. He stops in front of my cell. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me.

  He’s changed clothes. It’s good to see him in familiar Occhian attire, dark and drab as it is. His missing eye is covered with gauze, bandages wrapped around his head to hold it in place. His hair is matted with dried blood. Apparently, even at the illustrious House of Morandi, he didn’t have enough water to clean himself properly.

  I want to ask if the wound hurts. I want to ask if he’s all right. But they seem like such silly questions. The important thing is that I get him the water he needs. Then I’m going to make sure he rests, because he looks like he really needs to lie down.

  “Did the guards see you?” I say.

  He hesitates. Then he shakes his head. He gingerly touches the bandage around his head, like he’s making sure it’s in place.

  “Verene is going to pay for what she did to you,” I say. “I’ll make sure of it.”