A servant like her—fired in disgrace—would have nowhere to go. Servants are born into the house they serve, and anyway, no one would want a servant who helped her charge defy the watercrea’s laws.
“That’s…” she says. “That’s not important. Is that… is that your blood?”
I try to explain. I find that I can’t. I find that, all of a sudden, I’m swaying on my feet.
Paola takes my shoulders. She pulls me deeper into the alley, and I sink down to the cobblestone. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes.
“It didn’t work,” I whisper.
She’s produced a handkerchief out of nowhere. She’s wiping at the blood on my face, as if one little handkerchief is going to make any difference.
“You shouldn’t even be near me.” I don’t open my eyes. “Everyone else in the city wants me dead.”
“Well,” she says, “everyone else is useless. I’ve heard what they’re saying about you. They’re saying that you’re going to destroy the city. They’re saying that you found a demon in the catacombs and made a pact with it. And they’re saying that you’re the one who hurt Alessandro, which is obviously just nonsense. It’s just the panicked lies of terrified people.”
“So what’s the truth, then?” I say.
She stops wiping my face. She reaches out and strokes my hair, without hesitation, like she doesn’t notice all the blood and grime.
“You’re a girl who wants to live,” she says.
She’s right. I want to do more. Be more. And I want to live. I want to live forever.
And everyone else keeps trying to stop me.
Paola sighs. “You know, it’s a blessing to make it as long as I have. But I’ve lost so many to the tower. When the watercrea died, for a moment, I thought—I thought about how amazing it would be if we could find another way. If we could make things better. And I thought if anyone could do it, it was you. I know how hard you tried. Even if it seems like no one else knows, I do.”
She hesitates. I feel her plucking at my wet gown.
“Where…” she says. “Where is this blood coming from?”
I open my eyes.
“I’ll try again,” I say.
“What?” she says. “How?”
I turn to her. She’s so pale. She looks tired and thirsty, and I open my mouth to explain.
And then I blink.
And I don’t see Paola anymore. All I see is blood.
I see the spiderwebbing veins in her head. I see the blood flowing to her brain and her eyes and her nose. I see her pulse thrumming in her neck. It’s horrifying. It’s beautiful.
The ritual did work.
It actually worked.
And then, every single one of Paola’s veins burst open. I blink again, and I can barely see. There’s blood in my eyes. It’s all over my face and in my mouth.
Paola’s head is gone. It’s just… gone. Her body collapses in a heap, and a moment later, it’s gone, too. I’m left sitting next to a crumpled dress in a pool of blood.
No.
I pick up the dress. It’s soaked and dripping. I can’t quite make myself understand what it means.
I didn’t do that. It was the magic.
The magic.
I drop the gray dress, and I scramble to pull up my skirts and look at my hip. They’re gone. My omens are gone. For the first time in ten years, I’m unmarked.
I’m free. I’m alive.
I leap to my feet. But then I look at the spot that used to be Paola.
I did this to her. The magic and I did this together.
I retch and cover my mouth, but I force myself to swallow it back down. Paola believed in me. She wouldn’t want me to stop just because she was reduced to… this.
So I won’t stop. I’ll control the magic better next time. I know I can.
I turn away. I pick up my skirts and run across the cobblestone.
I have a city to save.
NINETEEN
THE STREETS ARE EMPTY AND THE BLACK MANORS ARE silent as I run to the House of Morandi. The watercrea’s gown is still lying there, a splash of red on the dark stone. I kick aside the prayer candles to reach it. I strip off my clothes and pull on hers, barely even noticing the dark blood dried on the back. The silk is soft and luxurious. It still smells like her rosy perfume, but that doesn’t bother me. She can’t touch me now.
The skirts are dreadfully long, of course, so I tie them off to one side in an artful knot. Everyone can enjoy the sight of my legs. I have nothing to hide.
I make my way down the street. I run up the steps to the cathedral and barge through the doors.
The whole city is supposed to be here, but it feels so empty. The only Occhians left are clustered in the front pews, buzzing and chattering and ready for the trial. At the crack of the chamber doors, they startle and turn around. When they see me coming, unchained and wearing her red gown, their rage and despair turns into fear. It’s so strong I can taste it.
I blink, and the shadowy people disappear. The only thing I can see is their blood. I blink again, and the people come back.
I can control it, I tell myself.
“You all look surprised to see me like this,” I say loudly. “You shouldn’t be. It’s just like I told you. I’m untouchable, and with the watercrea gone, you’re going to be free.”
I let silence reign as I glide to the altar. I whirl around.
“You’re welcome,” I say.
I turn my gaze to the red carpet that stretches down the aisle. The last time I was here, someone else used her magic to drag me across it. That will never happen again.
I can’t tell if the rest of my family is here. Everybody is hunched and terrified. They’re slowly sinking down to hide behind their pews.
“Look at me,” I snap.
They freeze. For some reason, I notice suddenly, they’ve filled the wooden benches
