“People of Iris,” she says. Her voice is hilariously ragged, but the square is so silent that it carries anyway. “You all remember the last time I called you outside of a watering. Two years ago, when I announced that I would become your Heart and showed you my powers, it was a joyous occasion.”
She pauses.
“This is not,” she says.
The girl next to me sobs even harder.
“Earlier this evening, I had some visitors,” Verene says. “I welcomed two citizens of Iris into my House, hoping to learn more about their lives. And they attacked me. I was able to get free, but only after I almost—”
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
