“Where are we going?” I whisper.
He shines the beam of the flashlight to the left and then to the right. “Good question. Lucien didn’t happen to tell you where exactly you were going to meet him?”
“I was supposed to be dead,” I say.
“Right.”
“We could always follow the arrows.” Ash is standing by the corner where two halls intersect, staring intently at the wall. “Garnet, bring the light.”
Garnet shines the flashlight on the wall where there is a directional sign.
SURROGATES
LADIES-IN-WAITING
SERVANTS
We take the right hall, through a set of swinging double doors into another hallway. Ash tries the handle of a door across from us.
“Locked,” he says.
“This one isn’t,” Garnet says, opening the door. He flicks on the light and gleaming silver compartments come into view, lining the walls, row upon row of square doors. Everything is sharp and pristine.
“Are those for the . . .” I can’t bring myself to say the word bodies.
“Yes,” Ash murmurs.
“Are they all . . . full?” The thought of so many dead surrogates makes me colder than I already am. Annabelle’s blood pricks at the skin on my knees.
“I hope not,” he replies.
“Do you think Raven is here already?” I ask. When I gave her the serum at the Duchess’s luncheon this afternoon, Raven was practically catatonic. But she roused when she heard my voice. I have to hope she understood me.
Ash swallows. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“Who’s Raven?” Garnet asks.
“My best friend,” I reply. My legs start to shake as I approach one of the compartments. “The Countess of the Stone’s surrogate. I gave her Lucien’s serum.”
“You what?” Garnet shakes his head. “You know, if Lucien wasn’t so intent on saving your life, I think he might kill you.”
I ignore him, my fingers trembling as I turn the handle and pull the door open.
Empty.
I release the breath I was holding.
“One down,” Ash says, coming up beside me. “A few dozen more to go.”
Methodically, Ash and I begin to open all the doors. Garnet watches us with a bemused expression. We’ve opened seven empty chambers before Ash says quietly, “Violet.”
I move to his side and follow his gaze to the black bag filling the long rectangular space. Together, we pull out the metal sheet it’s resting on. Ash reaches to unzip the bag.
“No,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
Very gently, I pull down the zipper, revealing a pale face, stony in death. My breath catches in my throat.
“That’s not Raven,” Ash says.
I shake my head, tears filling my eyes.
“Did you know her?”
“No,” I say. “But I met her once.”
It’s the girl from Dahlia’s funeral, the one who was looking for her sister. I put my hand on her icy forehead. She looks so young.
I am overwhelmed by the unfairness of this whole situation. What makes me special? Why am I worth saving and not this girl, or the lioness, or Dahlia? I feel a surge of anger toward Lucien for forcing me to acknowledge this terrible truth but not giving me a way to do anything about it.
You saved Raven, a voice whispers in the back of my mind.
Not yet, I think. And it’s not enough.
I zip the bag up and return the girl whose name I will never know back to her metal tomb.
“Let’s keep looking,” I say to Ash.
We find four more girls, none of whom I recognize.
“What if she didn’t take it?” I say. Panic begins to creep up the back of my throat.
“She did,” Ash reassures me, but his words are meaningless and I can tell he knows it. There is no way to know whether Raven understood me or not.
“They probably haven’t found her yet,” Garnet says. He’s leaning against the wall casually, hands in his pockets, as if he’d hung out in morgues on a daily basis.
“Why are you still here?” Ash asks.
Garnet shrugs. “I want to see what happens when Lucien finds out you’re here.” Then he smirks. “Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Being royal is so boring. Any chance I get to stick it to my mother, I take. Stealing her surrogate right out from under her nose? From her own house? Too good to pass up.”
“Why do you hate her so much?” I ask.
“Um, gee, Violet, you lived with her for two months,” Garnet says. “How do you feel about her?”
He does have a point.
“Now multiply that by your entire life.” Garnet scratches the back of his neck. “It’s a miracle that I’m so well adjusted.”
The echoing boom of a heavy iron door closing freezes us all in place.
“The light!” Ash hisses. Garnet’s hand darts to the wall and we’re engulfed in darkness. For several seconds, there’s nothing but silence. Then the unmistakable sounds of feet and voices float down the hall.
“We have to hide,” Garnet says.
“Where?” I ask. “I can’t see anything.”
There’s a click off to my left, and Garnet’s flashlight flickers on. The beam of light falls on Ash. He’s crouched by the one of the compartments, the lowest one in the far left-hand corner. The door is open and his eyes meet mine.
“No,” I whisper.
“Do you have a better idea?” Garnet says, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward Ash, keeping the flashlight trained down. I crouch by the black square hole where so many dead surrogates have been stored, my stomach churning with something stronger than disgust and sharper than fear. The wrongness of hiding in here makes my limbs numb and clumsy.
“We don’t have a choice,” Ash says. I open the door next to his compartment and force my feet to move, my body to bend and shift and slide until I am lying facedown on the cold metal slab. The voices are so close I can almost make out individual words, along with a faint squeaking sound. The flashlight goes out. Garnet’s door closes, then Ash’s.
I take a deep breath and shut myself inside.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
Four
THE DARKNESS INSIDE THIS METAL TOMB IS FAR, FAR worse than the blackness of Garnet’s car trunk.
I press my forehead against the cold steel and try to pretend I’m somewhere else, or that Ash is with me, or that this is all a dream and I’m about to wake up back in the Marsh.
The light in the room switches on.
Pale yellow leaks into my hiding place. There is no handle on the inside of the door, so I’ve left it cracked the tiniest bit. The voices of two men are muffled.
“. . . didn’t want anyone noticing, I suppose.”
“Don’t see why anyone would care. How many surrogates has she gone through over the years? Twenty?”
“Not your place to count, lad. We do as we’re told.” The first voice is definitely older and has a rough, grizzled quality. “They say House of the Stone, pickup at midnight, and that’s what we do.”
House of the Stone! They have Raven! I nearly cry with relief.
There’s the strange squeaking noise again, then a door creaks open. I hear the wrinkling of plastic being manipulated.
“She’s not very heavy, is she?” the second voice says.
“Ain’t none of them is heavy, lad. You’ll see.”
Plastic scrapes and shifts over metal. The door closes.
“Now,” the first voice says gruffly, “it’s back to bed and let’s hope there’s no more calls tonight.”
Their shoes make tiny sticking sounds as they leave. The light switches off.
I keep still for as long as I can, hardly daring to breathe, waiting to see whether they come back. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. My fingernails scrape the door, push
ing it open. I wriggle out of the compartment as fast as I can and tumble onto the polished floor, as Ash and Garnet open their own doors. I scramble to my feet and push up the arms of the oversize Regimental coat, running my palms along the wall until I find the light switch.
The light is painfully bright after so much darkness. Ash’s face is drained of color, and he climbs to his feet slowly. Garnet stays on the floor, leaning against the cabinets and smoothing back his blond hair, looking more rattled than I’ve ever seen him.
“She’s here,” I say to Ash.
“I know,” he replies.
A smile breaks across my face, and I begin opening doors with a single-minded ferocity, pushing Garnet out of the way until I find one that was empty before.
I yank on the metal sheeting and Raven’s body slides out, hidden underneath a thick layer of black plastic. Ash and Garnet join me as I pull the zipper down and open the bag.
Raven’s face is as cold and lifeless as all the other girls’ in this place, and for one paralyzing moment, I fear she’s actually dead. Her beautiful caramel skin is waxy, her once-glossy black hair lank and tangled. She is naked. I quickly shrug out of the Regimental coat and throw it over her body, but not before seeing how painfully, sickeningly thin she is—every rib is visible, and her hip bones jut out in sharp points on either side of the tiny bump of her belly.
I press my hand against her cheek. Her skin is like ice.
“Raven,” I say, my voice trembling. I watch for a flutter of her eyelashes, or a parting of her lips, but there’s nothing. My best friend is deathly still.
“Raven, it’s me,” I say. “It’s Violet.” It hurts to swallow. “Please wake up. I’ve saved you. Please come back to me.”
The silence that follows is crushing. Pieces of me break under the weight of it.
“Maybe she’s really—” Garnet begins, but I whirl around and slam my hands against his chest, sending him stumbling backward.
“She is not dead!” I hiss. I turn back to Raven and shake her. Her head lolls on the metal slab. “Wake up, Raven! Come on, you took the serum, I know you did, so please, WAKE UP!”
I slap her hard across the face.
But nothing happens.
I feel Ash’s hand on my shoulder. “Violet, I’m so sorry.”
I shrug his hand away. I don’t want anyone’s pity right now. “She—”
Suddenly, Raven’s eyes fly open. Her body arches, her eyeballs bugging out of her head, then she jerks onto her side and vomits on the floor. Ash and Garnet jump back as Raven’s body convulses, coughing and retching, but I collapse on top of her, my forehead falling onto her shoulder, one hand smoothing her hair, blissfully grateful to feel her breathing and moving and alive. She rolls onto her back, panting. Her eyes wheel in her head until they find me.
“Violet?” she croaks. Tears stream down my cheeks, but I don’t bother to wipe them away.
“I’m here,” I say. “You’re safe now.”
Her gaze slips to the ceiling. “I saw my mother,” she says. “She was brushing my hair. Then they took all her skin away.”
“What?” I say. “Your mother is alive and in the Marsh.”
“They took her skin away,” she says again. “They showed me her bones.”
Her eyes become unfocused and her body relaxes. She goes very still.
“Raven?” I whisper. I brush my fingertips across her cheek. She’s breathing, but it’s like a light has been switched off inside her.
“What did they do to her?” Ash asks in a hushed voice.
“I—I don’t know.” I run my hands through Raven’s hair and feel a tiny scar, maybe half an inch long, on her scalp. Then I feel another. And another.
“Well,” Garnet says, clapping his hands together, “this has been a great night, really one for the record books, and as much as I’d love to stay and watch Lucien freak out about all this, I think it’s time for me to be getting back.”
“Of course it is,” Ash mutters.
“Hey, I saved your life, what else do you want from me?” Garnet snaps.
“Absolutely nothing,” Ash says.
“Right,” Garnet says. “Good luck with all the escaping and whatnot.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Sure.” Garnet’s hand is on the doorknob when Raven sits up. The move is so unexpected and abrupt that I’m barely able to keep the jacket from falling off her shoulders.
“You’re a coward,” she says, her dark eyes on Garnet. There is a haziness in her gaze, as if she were focusing on two things at once.
We all stare at her in shocked silence.
“Raven?” I say tentatively.
“He’s a coward,” she says. “He breaks all the wrong rules. The easy ones. He’s afraid.” Then her face goes slack, her eyes returning to normal. “I’m tired. It’s not time for the doctor yet.”
She lies back down on the slab and starts muttering something to herself. I can’t understand what she’s saying, but I hear her name once or twice.
Garnet watches her for a second, then shakes his head. “Whatever. She’s your problem.”
With a halfhearted wave, he walks out the door. I put my hand on Raven’s forehead, but she’s gone back to that empty place, staring at the ceiling.
“What now?” Ash says.
“Now we wait for Lucien,” I reply. “Lucien will come.”
HOURS PASS.
Or, at least, it feels like hours. There’s no way to tell time in this room. We turned the lights off to be safe. Ash and I sit on the floor against the wall, huddled together to keep warm. Raven hasn’t moved or spoken since Garnet left.
I wonder what will happen when the Duchess discovers I’m gone. That Ash is gone. I wonder whether Garnet will be able to keep Carnelian from telling. I wonder whether Garnet will tell. He has no loyalty to us and he doesn’t seem particularly trustworthy—I can’t imagine why Lucien chose him to help. Carnelian, at least, can be counted on not to do anything to endanger Ash’s life.
I remember their exchange in the dungeon. “What did you tell her?” I say. It’s been so long since either of us has spoken, my voice sounds creaky and louder than it should. Ash’s cheek is resting against the top of my head.
“Mmm?” he breathes against my hair.
“When Carnelian asked you if anything was real, what did you say?”
I don’t expect him to hesitate. He lifts his head and turns his face away from me. “That’s private, Violet.”
“You’re going to keep secrets from me?”
“How many secrets have you kept from me?” he says.
I chew on my lip. “That’s not the same. I had to. I made a promise to Lucien.”
“And what of the promises I’ve made?”
“But you were hired to make her promises. That isn’t the same as what we have.”
“I know.” Ash’s profile is black against the darkness as he stares up at the ceiling. “But must I betray her confidence because you don’t like her?”
I don’t know what to say to that. I guess I always assumed Ash hated Carnelian as much as I do.
He sighs. “It isn’t about keeping secrets from you. Carnelian is . . . extremely sad. And that sadness has been twisted into bitterness and anger. I don’t wish to be another in a long line of people who have let her down, even if she would never know the difference.”
I thread my fingers through his. “You don’t have to be so noble.”
“Not at all. I . . . I understand her a bit.”
“Well, someday, you’ll have to explain her to me.”
I hear footsteps outside. Ash and I scramble to our feet, but we don’t have a chance to hide again before the door opens and the light switches on.
Lucien enters the room. He wears his usual white dress with the high lace collar, his chestnut hair in a perfect topknot on the crown of his head, indicating his status as a lady-in-waiting. And it means more for him than it does for a female lady-in-waiting—male ladies-in-
waiting are eunuchs, castrated so as to be considered “safe” to work alongside royal women.
A large satchel hangs from one shoulder. His eyes move from me, to Ash, to Raven, and back to me. He shows no surprise at seeing two more people than he expected—he must have talked to Garnet.
He closes the door and puts the satchel down. With measured steps, he walks up to Ash, grabs him by the throat, and slams his head against the wall.
“Lucien!” I cry.
“Is it true?” he snarls. Ash looks dazed. I grab the arm that isn’t holding Ash’s throat and pull.
“Stop it!”
Lucien turns on me. “Do you know what they’re saying?” he hisses. “They’re saying that this piece of trash raped you.”
“What?” I gasp.
Ash comes back to his senses. In one lightning-fast movement, he grips Lucien’s wrist and twists it. Lucien cries out in pain as Ash bends his arm back in a way that makes Lucien bow forward.
“What did you say?” Ash growls. I’ve never seen him use physical force like this before.
“Release me,” Lucien barks.
“Ash!” I cry.
“He believes it. Do you see, Violet? He believes it.” He bends Lucien’s arm back a little more.
“And why shouldn’t I?” Lucien says. “I know what you do, what you really do. All you companions, with your charming smiles and your filthy minds. I should never have let you get near her.”
Ash yanks Lucien’s arm again. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you sleep with more women in a year than most men do their entire lives.”
“And you think I enjoy it? Or are you just jealous that I can?”
At that, Lucien lets out a strangled yell and rips his arm from Ash’s grasp. But Ash is too quick. In a second, he has Lucien pinned against the wall, his forearm cutting across Lucien’s throat.
“Ash, you’re hurting him,” I say. He turns his head to meet my gaze. “Please, stop. Let him go.”
Reluctantly, Ash relaxes his arm and back away. Lucien leans against the wall, massaging his shoulder.
“Ash would never touch me against my will, Lucien,” I say.
“Well, I’d like to think you’re not stupid enough to do it on your own.”