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