“We have to get down there,” I cry. Sienna and I quickly climb down the ladder, jumping the last several feet onto the landing. Then back down the spiral staircase until we reach the first floor of prep rooms. Regimentals are everywhere, streaming down the hall to the fight. We crouch in the doorway as they rush past us. Sienna’s lighter is gone, so we can’t use Fire as a distraction again.
But I am one of the Paladin. And I am not afraid.
I take a deep breath and join with Air, gathering it to me in a gust so strong it blows the hats off the Regimentals’ heads. Then I push it out, more forcefully than I ever have before, toppling them like dominoes, and Sienna joins with Earth so that the ground shakes and pieces of the ceiling cave in. We crash out into the hall, climbing over prostrate Regimentals, dropping more pieces of the ceiling on them with Earth and throwing them back with Air. Sienna is stronger than she was, too. It’s as though bringing the wall down imbued us with more power than we ever thought we possessed.
The doors to the lawn have been blown off their hinges and we dive through them, into the fray. The rosy façade of the Auction House is pockmarked with bullet holes. A bullet whizzes by me and I deflect it, still connected with Air, into the leg of a nearby Regimental.
Bodies litter the ground, staining the green lawn a dark, rusted red. Regimentals, Society members with white armbands, Paladin . . . I see little Rosie Kelting’s body, her eyes vacant in death. Indi is swirling water this way and that, blasting the enemy out of the way, while Sil tosses huge chunks of rock with Air. Garnet has tied a band around his arm and is leading a group of rebel Regimentals fighting hand to hand with Jewel Regimentals, Raven by his side, holding her own, her body strong and fluid as she fights. I search for Ash desperately in the melee, but there are too many people and too much chaos.
Rye is a black-and-white blur. He moves so quickly it’s hard to keep track of him. A few other companions are fighting with him, also dressed in tuxes, looking beautiful and terrifying. One has gotten his hands on a sword and he slashes the throat of an enemy Regimental, a bright red spray splashing across his tuxedo shirt.
More white-banded rebels pour through the opening in the wall, forcing the Regimentals back toward the Auction House.
One of them points his gun at Sil and Indi hits him with a blast of water so forceful he slams into the Auction House wall.
Suddenly, a shot rings out. It’s one of so many I’m surprised I can identify it specifically through the din. I feel it, more than see it, as it speeds across the lawn toward Indi. In a flash, I push a gust of Air toward it, but I’m too late.
I can’t make sense of the way her head tilts backward, or the spray of red that explodes out of her beautiful blond hair.
She falls almost gracefully to the ground, her tall, lithe body twisting and swaying. She lands with a thump and doesn’t get up.
“Indi!” I scream, pelting across the grass. Bullets are flying but my anger makes me strong and with a wave of my hand, Air sends them all shooting in another direction, scattering into the wall and Regimentals behind me.
Indi’s eyes are open. She stares up at the clear blue sky with a slightly surprised expression, lips parted, hair tumbled about her face. A pool of blood begins to ooze out from the back of her head, turning her golden strands crimson.
Twenty or so Regimentals are approaching me from the Auction House. I stare them down with a fury unlike I have ever known, one that grows with every pulse of my heart.
“BURY THEM!” I shriek. My rage is white-hot fire. I join with Earth so quickly and completely that I feel as if I have been built into the very foundation of this palace, into the roots of the grass and down below, to where this island meets the ocean. I will destroy each and every one of them.
I feel Sienna join with Earth as well, then another girl, and another. Clicking into place like puzzle pieces, our power increasing as more of us are focused on the same thing. The Auction House makes a strange groaning sound. The Regimentals are bewildered. One shoots another girl connected with Earth in the chest and as she falls I feel the loss of her, her bright light snuffed out so quickly.
Bury them, I think again, and the entire south wall of the Auction House collapses.
The Regimentals have a split second to run. Not nearly enough time. The rose-colored stone crashes down on top of them, glass windows shattering, so that an entire side of the Auction House is nothing but a gaping hole. I can see the remnants of the amphitheater where I was sold. It’s been broken in half, the fancy chairs and chaise lounges toppled, ruined. There is nothing left but dust and bodies.
And still the members of the Society swarm through the open wall.
Sienna runs over to where I’m kneeling beside Indi.
“No,” she murmurs. She cups Indi’s cheek in one hand, a remarkably tender gesture. Other girls are gathering around the bodies of their fallen friends, some crying, some rocking the dead back and forth as if it will soothe them, as if they could be soothed. I watch numbly as a squad of handsome young men splashes through the ruins of the wall, through the river Indi made only half an hour ago.
Then I hear a voice, so achingly familiar, it’s the only sound that could reach me in this well of anger and despair.
“Violet!”
“Ash?” I gasp. I’m on my feet and running, pushing people out of the way to find him.
And there he is. His hair is even longer, and rough stubble covers his cheeks. He wears a black shirt, the white band standing out starkly on his arm, a rusty, dented sword in his hand. He is facing the wrong way, still calling my name, searching the crowd.
For a split second, I wonder if he’ll even recognize me, if he’ll remember I look different. Then he turns and his gaze lands on me. The sword drops from his hands and falls onto the grass.
“Violet,” he says, and I can’t hear him but I know it’s my name on his lips. He walks toward me, slowly at first, then faster, then I’m running, too, and we crash into each other in a tangle of arms and tears.
He smells like blood and sweat with a faint tinge of gunpowder. The stubble on his jaw is rough but I press my face against it, holding him tighter than I need to, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine, drinking him in, almost delirious with joy.
“You’re alive,” he whispers in my ear, breathless with the same elation I feel.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, Ash. I should have believed in you.”
“It’s all right,” he murmurs. “You’re alive . . .”
And then he starts laughing, his chest heaving, and I’m laughing, too, though I don’t know why.
“Ochre,” I gasp, pulling away from him. “Is he—”
“He’s fine,” Ash says. “He and a few other boys have been confusing the Regimentals in the Bank, leading them to the wall where the Society was waiting.”
Relief washes over me. My brother is safe.
Now I need to help my sister.
“Lockwood!” a companion in a tux comes running up to him, Garnet by his side. “The Regimentals have fled. Some are still inside the Auction House, but we fear others are shoring up the rest of the Jewel. We think many of the royals are dead or in their safe rooms, but we don’t know how many more could be hiding in the palaces.”
“Search every floor,” Ash says. “Imprison as many as you can, but anyone who resists, we shoot to kill.” He gazes through the opening in the wall, toward the Bank. “We need more help.”
“You need Paladin,” I say. I turn and call out to Sienna, Sil, and Olive. “Sil, take as many girls who can connect with Earth and Air as you can. We need the rest of this wall taken down. Sienna, get your own group together. Go with our Regimental force and search the Jewel for more royals. Olive, you gather some girls and go with the companions to clean up the Auction House.”
Sienna immediately rushes off to find Sloe and a few other girls she knows. Olive claps her hands and says, “My mistress might be in there!” before forming her own lit
tle group.
“We’re going in there, too,” I say, turning to Ash. “I think Hazel is still inside.”
Ash is staring at me with a look of wonder on his face.
“What?” I say.
He flashes me my favorite, secret smile. “You’re incredible.”
“You’re pretty impressive yourself,” I say, nodding toward the companions gathered around us. “You’ll have to tell me everything once this is all over.”
“Once this is all over,” he agrees. “Let’s get your sister.”
He turns to the waiting companions, Regimentals, and Society members and begins giving quick orders. I move toward the Auction House, impatient.
“Where’s Raven?” Garnet asks suddenly. I look around, but in the swarm of bodies, I can’t find my best friend anywhere. Then I look up.
I know exactly where she is heading, because we studied these blueprints for months and the only place she made sure she knew the location of backward and forward and every which way was the Countess of the Stone’s safe room.
“There,” I say, pointing to the turret that holds the Founding House safe rooms. “That’s where she’ll go.”
Garnet swears under his breath. “Is she crazy?”
I look at him, then Ash.
I’m not leaving my sister abandoned in that awful place or my best friend to face the Countess on her own. “Let’s go.”
Twenty-Five
THE MAIN DOORS ARE HANGING OFF THEIR HINGES, AS IF a stampede of people blasted through without bothering to open them first.
Olive’s group follows us inside, along with a crew of companions. Ash has his sword in hand again and Garnet keeps his pistol at the ready.
The main foyer is a mass of death and destruction. The fountain has broken in half, water spilling across the mosaic of tiles, carrying the blood of the fallen royals, Regimentals, and servants in delicate red swirls. We cross the foyer and I see the Electress is among them, still on the dais. She looks so young in death. There is a gaping wound across her chest.
But the Duchess and my sister are nowhere to be found. Neither is Raven.
Suddenly, there is a shriek from across the room.
“Mistress!” Olive cries. The Lady of the Stream is huddled behind the orchestra stand with a few other frightened royals. “Mistress, it’s me! Oh, I found you at last.”
“Get away from me!” the Lady screams, and just as Olive reaches her, arms outstretched, the Lady grabs a cornet off the platform and swings it hard. It connects with the side of Olive’s head and she drops like a stone. One of Olive’s friends wails. The next second, the water rises up, as her handpicked group of Paladin retaliates, blasting the royals while the companions surge forward to finish the job. Olive’s face still has the remnant of a smile, her joy at seeing her mistress one last time forever etched on it.
So much death. So many lives ended today.
I turn away to face Garnet and Ash. “Raven will try to get into the Countess’s safe room. And Hazel might be with the Duchess in her own safe room.”
“So they’ll be right next to each other,” Garnet says.
I close my eyes, picturing the dotted lines and patterns that I worked so hard to memorize.
“This way,” I say, and we take off, leaving the carnage behind us.
We barge through a door made of blackened wood, then down a hall lined with pretty sconces and papered in gold and white . . . when we come upon Raven, grappling with a Regimental.
Garnet lets out a strangled yell and barrels forward, knocking both Raven and her attacker to the ground. Raven rolls to one side and is on her feet as Garnet hits the Regimental in the temple with the butt of his gun. The man falls unconscious.
“What are you doing?” Garnet demands, standing up to face her. She stares him down.
“I have to,” she insists.
“I know,” he says. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t wait for us.”
Raven opens her mouth as another Regimental comes running down the hall. I slam him into a wall with Air.
“The safe rooms are up this way,” I say, opening a door to reveal a set of curving stone stairs. Two Regimentals are guarding it and I deflect their bullets, still connected with Air, as Ash takes them out with his sword.
As we climb, we pass other safe rooms, for lesser royals—the Founding House safe rooms are in the very top of this turret. Every room is sealed tight, keeping the royalty inside. Hopefully, these ones won’t trouble us any longer, won’t try to fight now that their precious Regimental force is being battered and their wall is destroyed.
We reach the top, where there are five doors, each with a crest. Scales, Royal Palace, Rose, Lake, Stone.
I focus on the House of the Lake first. Get Hazel, then help Raven.
“Stand back,” I say. I gather all the air here to me, then expel it like I did to open the door with the hot handle. The door bursts open, revealing a small, beautifully decorated room behind it.
It’s empty.
“She’s not here,” I gasp. “She’s not—”
“The Countess,” Raven begs. “Please.”
My head spinning, I focus Air on the door with the House of the Stone’s crest, a gray square crossed with two bronze hammers. The blast hits the door and rips it off its hinges. I send it flying across the room and there is a loud crash as it bursts through a window on the opposite wall.
Why do they even have windows in these safe rooms? I think, as the inhabitants inside cower and cough. Glass is littered around on the floor of a room as pretty as the one with the Duchess’s crest.
We charge inside. The frail man I saw briefly at that last royal dinner cowers behind the door.
“P-please,” he stammers, “d-don’t hurt me.”
“What do you want?” the Countess demands. Her eyes widen. “Garnet?”
“At your service,” Garnet says, touching his cap.
“What is going on here?” Frederic demands, rising up from behind a sofa. “How did you—”
But Raven has stalked over to him and in one swift movement winds up and punches him hard in the face.
I can hear his nose break. Blood spurts out from between his fingers as he clutches his injured face, howling and stumbling backward.
Then she turns to the Countess.
“Hello, Ebony,” she says.
I love my friend. I saved her life once and I would do it again in a heartbeat. But the look on her face as she stares down the Countess of the Stone is frightening. It sends a chill up my spine and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There is a bruise swelling on Raven’s left cheek and several long scratches down her neck, giving her a slightly wild appearance.
The Countess looks, very appropriately, as though she is staring at a ghost. “You’re dead,” she gasps.
Raven gestures to herself. “No. I’m not.”
The Countess pulls herself together quickly. “When this whole thing is over, I am going to have you dismembered, 192.”
“My name,” Raven says, carefully enunciating each word, “is Raven Stirling. And your time of torture and mutilation and cruelty is at an end.”
I see Frederic move out of the corner of my eye and am about to cry out a warning. Garnet moves with me, raising his pistol, but Raven is faster than both of us, almost as if she anticipated this. She ducks and whirls, so that where once he was behind her, now she is behind him.
She grips his head between her hands. “Oh, Frederic,” she says. “I have been thinking about this reunion for such a very long time.”
Then with a sharp twist, she snaps his neck. He crumples to the floor like a rag doll, his head bent at an odd angle.
“No!” the Countess shrieks.
Raven steps over his corpse without giving it a second glance.
The Countess glares at her. “You don’t honestly think you’ll win this, do you?” She looks around the room. “What is your revolution made of, a handful of disgruntled servants, dis
graced companions, and farmworkers? And one pathetic royal?”
“Have you looked out that window?” Raven says. “Your forces are scattered. Your wall is broken. The circles will be integrated. The people of this city will take it back from you tyrants.”
“The people of this city would be lost if it weren’t for the royalty,” the Countess says. “They need us to survive.”
“No,” Raven says. “We don’t.” She touches her scalp, feeling each scar one by one. “You gave me such a gift, Ebony. And you didn’t even realize it.”
“Do not call me by my given name,” the Countess snarls. Raven ignores her.
“I can hear things now, you see. I know you are afraid. More afraid than you were that time your mother starved you for a week because you still hadn’t lost weight. She locked you in the dungeon and wouldn’t let you out. You cried yourself to sleep every night.”
There is an evil gleam in Raven’s eyes at the look of terror on the Countess’s face. “Oh yes. I’ve heard your secrets. I know your thoughts. You can’t go digging around in someone’s brain and not expect there to be repercussions. Especially not a Paladin brain.” The Countess’s brow furrows and Raven cocks her head.
“That’s what we are,” she says. “Not surrogates. Not slaves. But you knew, didn’t you? That we were different. You were smart to fear us. Of course, you wouldn’t call it fear. You called it, what . . . curiosity? Experimentation? But deep down, you knew there was something about us, something about the Auguries, that was dangerous if unleashed.” She takes another step closer.
The Countess stumbles back toward the broken window. “I am not afraid of you.”
“Yes you are,” Raven says, her voice as deadly as a snake’s hiss. “And you should be.”
Another step forward for Raven. Another step back for the Countess.
Then she closes the distance between them in a flash. The Countess’s eyes widen in surprise, her large mouth dropping open as Raven shoves her out the window. She disappears with a shriek, falling to crash into the ground far below.