Everyone here thinks Verene is a saint. They don’t know about my people. They don’t know what she’s taking from us. They don’t know that we’re dying.
I turn to Ale. “We can’t get back to Occhia.”
“What?” he says.
“We can’t get back to Occhia,” I repeat, more forcefully. “That thing… it lives in the catacombs. It moves around in the catacombs. It’s what they’re using to steal the water from us. It has to be. If we try to go back down there, it could—”
“They’re stealing water from us?” he says. “With that thing? But, Emanuela, what was it?”
“I don’t know.” My voice is too loud.
“It can swallow water,” he says, like he’s realizing it as he speaks. “And people. But… where did it come from?”
“They’re the children of this city’s last ruler,” I say. “The ruler with blood magic. Maybe it was some sort of power they got from her.”
“What?” he says. “She had children? But why didn’t she just pass down the exact same magic—”
“I don’t know, Ale! I don’t know what’s going on in this city. But I was so sure I could figure it out. I was so sure—and we can’t get back to Occhia—and—”
And I almost killed Verene back there. I almost killed another person. And I didn’t even really think about what I was doing until it was too late.
My papá always says that I never stop until I get what I want, and that it’s the best thing about me. And it is. It’s never scared me before. Not the way it’s scaring me now.
Ale puts a hand on my back.
“I…” I say. “We should…”
I want to tell him that I have a plan. I want to tell him that we’re closer to getting this city’s water. But we’re not. And I can’t.
He glances back at the towering face of the cathedral.
“We should hide,” he finishes for me.
ELEVEN
WE REACH THE EDGE OF THE CATHEDRAL SQUARE. ALE moves in the direction of a quiet, unassuming street, but I grab his wrist.
“Let’s go to the gardens,” I say.
He gives them a nervous glance. “It sounds like there’s a party.”
“Which means they’ll expect us to hide somewhere quieter,” I say.
And I can’t go sit in an empty alley. Not after the darkness of the underground well. It doesn’t seem like the blood-eating shadow we just encountered can venture into the city above—if it could, surely it would still be chasing us—but I’m finding it harder and harder to trust my own instincts.
We head for the gardens and push through an ornate iron gate at the entrance. In Occhia, the name “gardens” is a bit of a misnomer. They’re more of a stone plaza, with plenty of statues of saints and the occasional plant. Everyone crowds the prettiest path that’s lined with tall, skinny cypress trees. There are always, at minimum, three couples trying to have romantic moments. It’s impossible for anyone to enjoy it.
My people would probably faint if they could see the gardens of Iris. They’re so green and so very alive. Ale and I are instantly lost in a maze of hedges. We wind around sharp corners and through ivy-covered tunnels, and I look for a hiding place that feels secure enough.
“So,” Ale says. “You’re… you’re absolutely certain that Verene doesn’t have blood magic?”
“We were fighting,” I say. “I was besting her. If she had it, she would have used it on me the moment she escaped from the trunk—”
I stop short.
“You loosened her bonds,” I say.
“What?” Ale whispers very delicately.
I round on him. “She escaped the trunk on her own. And I couldn’t figure out how. When we were in her bedroom, I told you to tie her up even tighter while I searched her things. But you didn’t. You loosened her bonds.”
The guilt is all over his face.
“I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to breathe,” he says. “And I didn’t—I really didn’t think she was dangerous. I just—”
“And were you right?” I say.
He’s not looking at me anymore.
“You useless piece of garbage.” My ears are very hot. “This is why you’re supposed to do exactly what I tell you. She attacked me. She could have killed me.”
“You left me with her brother,” he whispers. “He could have—”
“You left yourself,” I say. “That was your own incompetent floundering. And it was mortifying to watch, by the way.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just—I thought maybe, if we didn’t treat her like an enemy—”
“She is our enemy,” I say. “She’s taking Occhia’s water, Ale. That water belongs to us. I was right about what’s happening in this city—I was more right than you, at least. These people are a danger to us, and they need to be stopped. Am I wrong about that? Tell me I’m wrong.”
He’s quiet. He’s looking at the blood that’s still smeared on his fingers.
“You’re not wrong,” he says.
I whirl around and march off. I find a gap in the hedges and slip through it. Now that I’m hidden in the narrow, dark space between two walls of hedges, I should feel a little safer. I should feel a little better. But I don’t.
“Emanuela.” Ale squeezes in after me. “Please don’t run.”
“I didn’t want us to get separated,” I hear myself say. “I didn’t—When things started to go wrong, I didn’t know what was happening to you.”
I pause, suddenly aware of how hard my voice is wavering. I can’t look at him, because I
