The Jewel (40 page)

The ice in my veins melts as fire floods in its place.
She
did this.

“Shut up, you stupid girl,” the Duchess snarls. “What did you think would happen? Really, Carnelian, even when being useful, you are such a disappointment.” She speaks to the Regimentals holding Ash. “Take him to the dungeons.”

They drag his limp body out of the room.

“Ash!” I scream after him. This can't be happening. This can't be real. “Ash!”

But he's gone.

I'm still struggling against the Regimental's hold. The Duchess approaches me carefully. “You have disappointed me,
Violet
.”

The shock of hearing my name from her mouth stuns me into stillness. I gape at her.

“What?” she asks softly. “You didn't think I knew your name?” For a moment, we just stare at each other. Then her hand slams into my face, sparks exploding in front of my eyes. “I trusted you!” she shrieks. “And this is how you repay me? You little
whore.
” She hits me again and I taste blood.

“Ash,” I mumble.

“The companion is a traitor. And you know what happens to traitors in the Jewel, don't you, Violet?” She leans in so that her face is inches from mine. Her eyes are black fire. “They are executed.”

She looks up at the Regimental. “Take her to her chambers and keep her there. Guard all the exits. Get her out of my sight.”

She whirls around and sweeps out of the room. Carnelian lingers in the doorway, her eyes wide.

“I didn't know,” she whispers. “I swear, I didn't know. She said she wouldn't hurt him.”

Strength comes back to me, and with a strangled yell, I tear myself out of the Regimental's grasp, barely aware of the pain shooting through my shoulder. My only thoughts are of Ash's bloodied face and that it is all Carnelian's fault. She cries out and stumbles backward and I raise my hands to wring her scrawny little neck.

Another Regimental plows into my side, slamming me into the wall—all the air expels from my lungs in a giant
whoosh
. Sparks explode and swirl in front of my eyes. Two more Regimentals grab my arms and I can't fight them, I can't do anything except struggle to breathe, but it's like a pillow is being pressed down over my nose and mouth. The Regimentals pull me forward; my legs falter and give way, so they drag me out of the bedroom, past a white-faced Carnelian and into the halls of the east wing.

Suddenly, blissfully, my lungs expand—I gulp for air, coughing and choking in my desperation to breathe.

“Ash,” I wheeze as the Regimentals drag me down the glass hallway, the one I crept through the day I first met him. Tears spill down my cheeks. My breath is coming easier now, and the reality of my situation starts to sink in.

“Ash,” I croak. She is going to kill him. The Duchess is going to kill him.

The Regimentals' fingers dig into my arms, and I stumble, trying to keep up with them, but they're walking so fast.

“Ash!” I cry, hoping he can hear me, wherever he is.

I need him to know I'm here, that I haven't abandoned him, that I love him. Two sleepy-looking maids huddle together near the sculpture room, holding a flickering lamp, watching me with curious eyes. I don't care. I don't care if I wake up the whole palace.

“ASH!” I scream his name over and over, the shadowy halls blurring as the tears fall thick and fast, and just as we reach my chambers, I see a willowy figure in a white nightdress, long copper hair flowing past her shoulders, and for half a second our eyes meet—Annabelle's eyes are wide with shock, and her lips part like she wants to say something. But then the Regimentals pull me into my drawing room, away from her.

They drag me to my bedroom, tossing me in roughly and locking the door. I throw myself against the wood, scratching at it with my nails, pounding on it with my fists, yanking on the doorknob, screaming.

Nothing answers me but silence.

My chest aches, and I give up, slumping against the door and sliding down to collapse on the floor, pressing my cheek against the soft green rug.

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

I close my eyes.

Please don't let this be real.

But it is real. Dread fills my chest like liquid lead, pulling me down into a void where nothing waits but misery and anguish, and eventually death, because I will never leave the Jewel. I will die here.

I don't know how long I lie on the floor, drowning in the certainty that this is it, that all I am and all I have been is over. But at some point, a noise filters in through my consciousness. A faint buzzing sound, that seems to be coming from my vanity.

I sit up, listening hard.

The arcana.

I scramble to my feet, pulling open the drawer and grabbing the jewelry box with the hidden compartment—the whole thing is vibrating. I empty it out, spilling pearl bracelets, diamond earrings, brooches, rings, and ruby pendants across the vanity's surface, pop out the bottom and grab the arcana—it buzzes between my fingers.

“Lucien?” I whisper. “Lucien, is that you?”

For a moment, there is nothing, no answer, no sound except the hum of the tuning fork in my hands.

Then a voice that isn't Lucien's speaks, and I nearly drop the arcana in pure shock.

“Don't worry,” Garnet says, his usually confident tone gone and a fierce urgency in its place. “We're going to get you out.”

Then the arcana goes still and falls from my hand, landing with a tiny clink against the sparkling jewels scattered across my vanity.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

AMY EWING
earned her MFA at The New School and her BA at New York University. She is a regular contributor on www.teenwritersbloc.com. She lives in New York City. Follow her on Twitter @amyewingbooks.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

T
HE JEWEL
. Copyright © 2014 by Amy Ewing. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

[ tk ]

ISBN 978-0-06-223579-4 (trade bdg.)

EPub Edition March 2014 ISBN 9780062340948

14 15 16 17 18  
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 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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FIRST EDITION

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