The White Rose

by Amy Ewing

  His head drops into his hands and he sobs, his whole body convulsing.

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t think I could say anything, even if the right words did come to me. My brain is fuzzy. I lay my hand gently on his back.

  “Oh, Lucien,” I whisper.

  He runs his hand over his face again. “He got what he wanted. He sold me to the Jewel in exchange for my family to be moved to the Farm.” Lucien finally raises his gaze to look at me. His eyes are red, but there is fire in them. “I should have died. He didn’t—he wasn’t a surgeon, he had no idea what he was doing. I should have died and Azalea should have lived.”

  “It isn’t your fault she died,” I say. “Like it isn’t Ash’s fault Cinder is dying, or my fault that Raven . . .” I can’t finish that sentence, so I clear my throat. “This is them, Lucien. The royalty. And look what you’ve done. You’ve . . . infiltrated their system. Right under their noses. I’ve only met a handful of your supporters, in the Bank and the Smoke, but you’re giving people hope for something better, something different. You are changing people’s lives.” I squeeze his shoulder. “You changed mine.”

  Suddenly, a piercing scream echoes across the field.

  “Raven,” I gasp.

  Lucien is on his feet and running, his hair flowing out in a chestnut ribbon behind him.

  “Raven!” I yell, leaping up and then falling forward onto my hands and knees.

  She screams again.

  “No!” I can’t be stuck out here. Not now. Raven is hurt. Raven could be dying. She needs me.

  I pull and pull until my knees ache, and still I keep pulling against the hold of the roots. I don’t care what happens to me. I’m getting to my friend.

  Miraculously, I feel a tiny rip in the roots, the slightest give, and with a mighty yank, I get one foot free. It feels like I might have dislocated my knee joint in the process, but I’m too busy freeing my other foot to feel the pain.

  “Let . . . me . . . go.” With another agonizing tear, I rip my other foot loose and run as fast as I can across the clearing. I’m sweating and out of breath by the time I throw open the back door of the house. There’s no one on the first floor. I fly up the stairs, my feet hammering against the wood as my heart pounds in my throat.

  Ash and Garnet are outside Raven’s bedroom. Garnet paces nervously. Ash stands staring at the door.

  They both look up as I skid to a halt.

  “What’s happening?” I say.

  There is another wail from behind the door.

  “Raven!” I cry, lurching forward.

  Ash and Garnet are on me in a second, grabbing my arms and holding me back.

  “Let me go!” I shout, struggling against their grasp, but I used all my strength fighting the roots.

  “Lucien is in there,” Ash says. “And Sil. They’re . . . they’re doing everything they can.”

  “She needs me.” I kick at the door. “Raven, I’m here!”

  “You can’t go in,” Garnet says. There’s blood on his shirt. “You don’t want to go in there.”

  My face is wet with tears. I slump forward.

  “Oh, please,” I whisper, “Don’t let her die . . .”

  I don’t know how long we wait in that hallway. Ash and Garnet let me go eventually, though Ash keeps one arm firmly around my shoulders and Garnet hovers nearby. Every sound cuts through me. Lucien’s soothing murmurs. Raven’s weak cries. Then nothing but silence.

  The door opens.

  Lucien stands in the doorway. I don’t look at the blood on his hands. I don’t look at the expression on his face.

  All I can see is the body lying on the bed. Raven.

  “Violet—” Lucien begins, but I push by him and run to her.

  Her skin is damp with sweat. Her eyes are closed, her face peaceful. I collapse beside her.

  “Raven?” I whisper. “Wake up. Come on, now.” I shake her gently and her head lolls. Tears blur my vision. “You are Raven Stirling and you are stronger than this,” I say, louder because maybe she can’t hear me, maybe if I can just make her hear me she’ll open her eyes. “You’ve got to wake up now, Raven. You can’t . . . you can’t leave me.” I bury my face in her shoulder. “Please don’t leave me.”

  “She’s gone.”

  Sil is standing by the window.

  “She miscarried,” she says. “We couldn’t . . .” She sighs. “There was nothing to be done.”

  “Save her,” I say, standing up and wiping my nose on the sleeve of my sweater. “Save her like you saved yourself.”

  “I can’t,” Sil says. “I don’t know how. Only she can save herself.”

  “No.” I say the word with as much force as I can muster. “Someone has to do something because she was NOT meant for this. She was meant to be safe and happy. She was meant to grow old and fall in love and have a life.” So many people have died, and I have borne it all as best I could, but not her. I turn back to the broken, bloodied body of my best friend and I think—no, I know—that I would give my life to save her. I would do anything if she would open her eyes and look at me again.

  If only someone would help me. If only someone would tell me what to do.

  I kneel beside the bed, resting my head on her arm, holding her hand. And then I feel it.

  It’s like a tiny rustling in the pit of my stomach, like autumn leaves, a small wind stirring inside me. It fills me up, whirling through my chest like a tornado, and with it comes a heat, lovely and warm, a natural heat, like there’s a small sun where my heart used to be. I look up and put my hands on either side of Raven’s face, and I feel something there, something faint and fragile, a little flutter, a miniscule pulse, and I know she’s still there.

  The feeling shifts. It starts in my fingers and then spreads up into my arm, a tiny pitter-patter, like drops of rain on a warm summer evening. My skin tingles and Raven’s shaking, fluttery pulse gets infinitesimally smaller. She’s slipping away.

  I close my eyes.

  The White Rose is gone.

  I am in a place that is at once completely foreign and yet strangely familiar. I know I’ve never been here before because the ocean spreads out before me, and I have never seen anything but pictures of the ocean. I can smell the briny tang in the air, hear the waves crashing below me. I am awed by the sight of it, this vast beauty of grayish blue.

  I’m standing on a jutting cliff. There is no trace of the Great Wall that surrounds this island anywhere. Trees stretch out behind me. But in the center of the cliff is a statue of some kind. It’s made of a beautiful blue-gray stone, the same color as the ocean, and it curls up in a spiral, like a wave reaching for the sky. Markings are carved into it, symbols I don’t understand.

  I take a step forward and it begins to rain. Big, fat, wet drops splash on my face and shoulders, and then the wind picks up and the trees behind me are twisting and writhing, like mad dancers caught up in a frenzy. I think I should be scared, but I just want to laugh, so I throw my head back and release a primal, animal yowl, and the wind yowls with me, and the air lifts up my voice and carries it off to the waves and the earth shivers beneath my feet.

  Raven is standing on the other side of the stone statue, but it’s like I’m seeing her through a pane of glass—she is slightly blurry. But she is my Raven, the Raven before the Countess stole her and tortured her and left her for dead. The rustling inside me picks up again, leaping and spinning. Its joy is my joy, and I see it now, I see what Sil meant, that we are all connected, that this is a power that cannot be controlled or manipulated because it is part of everything.

  Yes, the earth rumbles.

  Yes, the wind whispers.

  Yes, the ocean cries.

  I see Raven mouth my name and I would give anything to have her with me, to touch her hand or hear her laugh.

  And as soon as I have the thought, a massive bolt of lightning descends from the sky and hits the monument. Fire blazes up its edges before disappearing, leaving only the faint scent of
burning behind. Raven shimmers like a mirage, then disappears.

  I open my mouth to cry out, but the rustling fills my throat and the rain beats down harder and I know I have to hold on, to wait, to be patient. So I wait. And I think about every memory I have of Raven, every laugh we shared at Southgate, and all the adventures we’ve had, how she saved us in the sewers, and saved Ash in the marketplace. I remember the feel of her hand in mine. I remember her kiss on my cheek this morning. I pour out all my love for this girl into the wide-open space. I share it with every fiber of my being.

  The world around me reacts. The wind whips my hair about my face, the cliff quakes under my feet, the rain pounds against my back, and for a second it feels as if my body had disappeared. I become the earth, and the rain, and the wind. I am somewhere else, the same place where my music exists, a place without pain or fear or sadness, and I take all those feelings and pour them into one thought.

  Raven.

  And then she’s there, right there in front of me, and her skin is healthy and glowing, and she smiles her old smile, full of warmth and mischief, and she speaks without opening her mouth.

  You found me, she whispers in my mind.

  I found you, I reply.

  Suddenly I’m being pulled, like a giant vacuum is sucking me up and away from the cliff, away from the statue, and everything is spinning and I grab Raven’s hand and hold on tighter than I’ve ever held on to anything in my life. And then I’m pitching forward and I think it must be into nothingness except I feel something soft against my cheek.

  I open my eyes.

  The first thing I see is a swath of color. My body has fallen over Raven’s, the quilt on the bed the only thing I can see. For a few seconds, I lie there, aware of the powerful silence in the room and the even more powerful silence inside me. Whatever I experienced isn’t gone—it’s more like it’s waiting for me to catch up. I take a deep breath and the air tastes different.

  I sit up.

  The first thing I’m aware of is my body—there’s a thrill running through me, a strength coursing in my veins and muscles, but not necessarily physical strength. I feel . . . altered. Heightened.

  I look around. The room is a mess, like a twister came through and tore everything off the beds, out of the closets. I’m vaguely aware of the other people—Lucien behind me, Garnet and Ash against the wall by the door, Sil by the window.

  Sil. I can feel her presence. It has its own flavor, its own weight. How had I never noticed it before?

  Then I turn and focus on the only person who matters in this moment.

  Raven’s face isn’t the face of the healthy, glowing Raven I saw on the cliff. It is sallow and sweaty, and her lips are cracked and dry. Her hair is lank and sticks to her skin in places.

  But her eyes are open.

  The emotions that rise up inside me are both familiar and unfamiliar, because it’s not just me who is celebrating. There is a new part of me, a new awareness, and I know I will never be without it for the rest of my life.

  And from outside, very faintly, I think I hear singing. The pond sings, and the wind, and the trees, and there is so much life around me that for a moment, I’m breathless, captivated by it. Then Raven speaks.

  “You found me,” she croaks.

  The spell is broken, and I fall forward onto her chest and cry. I know it’s all right, that I should cry, even though I’m so happy. These tears will help her and help me.

  “Yes,” I say through my sobs. “I found you.”

  Eighteen

  SIL TELLS ME TO COME DOWNSTAIRS.

  I make Lucien promise to stay with Raven, who falls asleep almost immediately. I watch the rise and fall of her chest until I’m sure it won’t stop, until I can truly believe she is alive.

  Ash and Garnet stay with her, too. They look at me differently now, wide-eyed and wary, confused. I walk silently past them, following Sil, and wonder what it looked like to them, whatever it was that just happened.

  I wonder what destroyed the room.

  Sil sets a kettle on to boil. I sink into one of the chairs at the dining table. My hands are shaking.

  “So,” she says. “Now you know.”

  I nod.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I shake my head. I don’t have an answer to that. It’s like I’m feeling everything all at once, a jumble of emotions mixed with something strange and unfamiliar that doesn’t quite feel human.

  “That’s exactly how Azalea looked when it happened to her. Except she didn’t have to bring her friend back from the dead.” Sil scratches her ear. “Never seen anything like that.”

  I stare at the grains of wood in the tabletop.

  “Did you get turned into a damned mute, girl?”

  My head whips up at the word mute as the fire under the kettle flares. Sil literally leans back, the fierceness radiating off me in waves. My anger is heat, like the fire—my skin burns.

  “Don’t say that to me,” I say. “Ever.”

  “All right,” Sil says slowly. “But you need to calm down.”

  I can’t calm down. The heat inside me is searing and the more it burns, the higher the flames leap, until the kettle is engulfed in them. I jump up and back away.

  “What’s happening?” I say. A potted plant on the windowsill bursts from its ceramic home, its roots crawling across the kitchen floor, its leaves swelling up to twice their normal size. The plant is a worm in the pit of my stomach, growing stronger as the roots slither toward me. I shriek and water explodes out of the faucet in the sink—the fire inside me quenched—but I feel like my skin has melted, slipping around on my bones like it might slide off into a puddle on the floor.

  “Out of the house,” Sil commands. “Now!”

  I fly through the back door, the roots veering in their course to follow me. I slam the door on them and collapse on the steps of the porch, holding my head in my hands and gasping for breath. I don’t want to touch anything. I’m afraid to look up. I feel like I’m falling down the incinerator shaft again, as if my insides were all mixed up and my stomach had lodged itself in my throat. I grip my neck in my hands, reminding myself that everything is as it should be, skin and bone and muscle. I am whole.

  It may be only a minute but it feels like much longer before Sil comes out to join me. She gives me a pat on the back, which hurts more than comforts.

  “Don’t worry,” Sil says. “It’s not the first time I’ve had a plant explode or a fire in this house. Not by a mile.”

  “I can’t . . . I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  “Oh, that’s plain as day.”

  “Maybe you should leave me alone. I don’t want to hurt you.” I don’t know what this new power is, but I feel like it’s dangerous. Like I’m dangerous.

  Sil chuckles. “You don’t scare me. I know exactly what you’re going through, and I’ve been doing it longer, and if you want to learn how to live without going insane, you are going to have to listen to me.”

  She shoves a mug of tea into my hands. The steam caresses my face as I grip the mug. It’s nice to have something normal to hold on to.

  “How did I do it?” I ask. “How did I save her?”

  Now Sil laughs a full-throated belly laugh, slapping her hand against her thigh.

  “How should I know?” she says. “What, you think we’re all the same? Is every tree in the forest out there the same? Every drop of water in the pond? Of course not. Nature made us all different. But you . . .” She whistles through her teeth. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re some sort of healer. Maybe it was a fluke. Or maybe you just love that damned girl so much.”

  I sip my tea. It’s chrysanthemum, the kind my mother always made.

  “What happened in the room?” I ask. “What did you see?”

  “A windstorm,” Sil says. “Like I said, it isn’t the first time things have been broken around here. Four elements, remember. Air. Earth. Water. Fire.”

  I think a
bout the flames leaping up from the kettle, how I felt them inside me, like I was on fire. I shudder.

  “I didn’t feel like me,” I say. “It was like . . .”

  “You give up part of yourself,” she says quietly. “You embody the element. It takes some getting used to.”

  “So what do I do now?” I ask.

  Sil stands. “Come with me.”

  I put down my mug and follow her across the field. Stars dot the night sky. The air is cold on my skin, but it doesn’t penetrate the way it did when I was tied to the birch tree. It’s like the fire is still smoldering inside me.

  Sil stops at the edge of the pond and looks up. The stars twinkle. The moon’s light reflects on the pond’s surface. I am so aware of the water, its quiet smoothness. I want to touch it.

  “You have the power to connect with every blade of grass in this field, every drop of water, every branch on every tree. They will react to you. But, remember, you do not have power over this force. You are only ever its equal. You must be worthy of that. You give yourself to an element, as it gives itself to you.”

  I bend down and place my palm on the pond’s surface.

  “You become the water,” Sil says.

  Instantly, I sense a connection, like my fingers are fluid, malleable, as if they had become the very water beneath them. The feeling travels up through my arm and into my chest, melting me, molding me—it’s scary and exhilarating at the same time. Waves ripple out from under my palm and I feel myself rippling, too. The wind stirs my hair and tickles the back of my neck. Everything is so peaceful, still, and yet so full of life. A quiet, thrumming power. I am awed by it. It is so much more than any Augury.

  “Look down,” Sil says.

  I pull away from the pond’s surface and my hand feels solid again. I stand and gaze, awestruck, as a tiny patch of white flowers blossom around my feet. But even as I watch, the petals wave at me, opening and closing, and then brown at the edges. In a few seconds, they have all withered and died, leaving behind no trace of their existence.