The White Rose (5 page)

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

“W
HAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?
” I
ASK, AS
G
ARNET GRABS
Raven’s arm and helps her out of the sewer.

“I’m taking you to the safe house,” Garnet says. He’s dressed in his Regimental uniform—he must have gotten a new jacket. I scramble out of the hole and Ash climbs up after me.

We’re in another alley, but this one isn’t nearly as creepy as the one by the morgue. It’s sandwiched between two buildings made of pale reddish stone. The air is cold, but the sun shines brightly in a clear blue sky. About fifty feet away, the alley ends in a bustling street. I see an electric stagecoach trundle past.

“I thought you were done with us,” Ash says.

Garnet shrugs. “Figured I could still be helpful.” His eyes dart to Raven. “Don’t think this makes you right,” he snaps, as if worried she might call him a coward again.

Raven frowns. “Who are you?”

“He’s helping us,” I say, wishing desperately that I could fix whatever is wrong with Raven’s brain. This isn’t her at all. Raven should remember him.

“Get in there,” Garnet says, pointing to a wide alcove in one of the buildings, stuffed with a few empty metal trash cans. “You’re all going to have to change again.”

There is a canvas bag, larger than the satchel, wedged next to the cans. I unzip it and pull out two dresses made of plain brown cloth. I hand one to Raven, whose eyes have gone blank. She clutches the dress and stares at the wall with a vacant expression. I change into my own dress before helping her into hers.

“Is it time for the doctor?” she whispers. She looks terrified.

“No. No more doctors,” I say, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Here, put this on.”

Ash trades his sweater for a collared shirt and tweed jacket, with a matching short-brimmed hat. It doesn’t quite hide the welt on his cheek, but at least his eye isn’t as swollen. A dark bruise has blossomed beneath it, purplish black.

“Take these,” Garnet says, handing him a stack of newspapers. Ash hoists the stack onto his shoulder, and the papers hide his face. He could be any other newsboy.

“We can’t move together. I volunteered to help search the Bank for him”—Garnet jerks his head in Ash’s direction—
“so I could come and meet you. My mother practically died of shock.”

“Do they know how I escaped?” Ash asks.

“Whatever Carnelian gave those guards, it completely wiped their memories. They don’t even remember locking you in the cell.” Garnet smirks. “You know, she’s actually pretty clever. If her blood was pure, she’d make one very impressive Duchess of the Lake.”

“Great,” I say, eager to get off the topic of Carnelian and onto the more pressing matter at hand. “But where are we
going
?”

“To a place not far from here. I only have an address, I don’t know who’s meeting you or what’s happening after.”

“Isn’t the whole point of this to get to the Farm?”

That’s what Lucien said. Get me to safety. There is safety in the Farm, the fourth and largest circle of the Lone City. But it feels like the Farm might as well be on a different planet right now.

“I don’t know what the point is, Violet. You think Lucien tells me everything? I’ve got an address, you can either come with me or figure out something on your own. And you should know by now, Lucien likes to keep things mysterious,” Garnet says.

“Yeah, I know,” I grumble.

“So I’ll go first. Then the companion will follow me.”

“His name is Ash,” I say.

Garnet ignores me. “Then you two follow him. Oh, put your hats on,” he says. I riffle through the bag and pull out two white caps with a lace fringe on them.

Garnet starts down the alley, when Ash grabs his arm.

“Wait,” he says. “What quarter are we in?”

“East,” Garnet says. “Near the southern border.”

Ash swears under his breath.

“What?” I ask.

“We’re close to my companion house,” he replies. “Someone might recognize me.”

The companion house is like Southgate—it’s the place where Ash was trained how to escort the young ladies of the Jewel.

“No one’s going to recognize you,” Garnet says. “Your face is a mess. But at least you know where you are. The address is Forty-Six Twenty-Two Plentham Street. In case we get separated. You take them there.”

We skirt the wall, creeping down the alley until we get close to the street. Garnet holds up a hand signaling us to stop.

“Wait five seconds,” Garnet says to Ash, “then follow me. You two wait five seconds more and follow him. Got it?”

I nod as Garnet walks out of the alley, turns right, and disappears down the street. I count to five in my head. I only get to three before Ash’s arm wraps around my waist, his lips pressing, gentle but firm, against mine. It takes me by surprise, but it comforts me.

Before I can say anything, he’s gone.

I forget to start counting.

“That boy kissed you,” Raven says.

“Yes,” I say. “Come on. Stay close to me, all right?”

She smiles playfully. “Where else am I going to go?”

I take a deep breath, and we walk out onto the streets of the Bank.

A
FTER LIVING IN THE HEART OF THE
J
EWEL FOR NEARLY
three months, the Bank shouldn’t be overwhelming. It’s the second circle of the city, where the merchant class lives, and the wealthiest after the Jewel.

But I haven’t been around so many people at once, and I’m awestruck by the crowds. I forget for a moment that I’m supposed to be following Ash and Garnet, forget to keep my head down and try to go unnoticed, because there are people everywhere—coming out of slender brownstones, strolling arm in arm down the bustling sidewalks. Many of the women are accompanied by young girls in brown dresses, who follow a few steps behind their mistresses with arms full of brown-wrapped parcels, or carrying hat boxes, or leading sleek, well-groomed dogs on leashes. One woman, wearing a hat made out of real roses and holding a tiny monkey in her arms, pushes past me and says to her friend, “I
do
hope they find him soon. I finally managed to secure an invitation to the Royal Theater this weekend and if the Jewel is still sealed off I won’t be able to go!”

I scan the streets for Ash and find him a few feet ahead of us, the stack of newspapers bobbing up and down as he walks. There are Regimentals everywhere, splashes of bright red among the crowds. I can’t tell which one is Garnet, so I keep my eyes locked on Ash. My nerves are taut, all the exhaustion I felt climbing out of the sewers erased by a new flood of adrenaline. We’re so exposed. I walk quickly,
my arms tense at my sides, waiting to feel a hand on my shoulder or a shout of “There she is!”

They’re not looking for you
, I remind myself. But that reminder doesn’t make me feel better.

The bobbing stack of papers crosses the street and turns left down another road. Raven nearly gets hit by an electric stagecoach as we follow after it; I grab her hand and pull her safely out of the way as a driver shouts at us to watch where we’re going.

The street Ash took is lined with shops—glass-paned storefronts selling everything from the latest fashions in women’s dresses to gilt-framed paintings of bowls of fruit and girls doing ballet. Diamond rings glint at us, nestled in blue velvet cushions. Puppies bark and play in a pet-store window. A red satin chaise lounge takes up an entire window display under a sign proclaiming,
SALE
!

And in every window, on every door and lamppost, a sign with Ash’s face is plastered, bold print proclaiming,
WANTED. FUGITIVE.

I feel like I’ve fallen down the incinerator shaft again—the air in my lungs is too thin and my head starts spinning. In the photograph, he’s maybe a year or two younger than he is now, his hair parted on the side instead of tousled, but it’s so very
him
.

This plan suddenly seems reckless, foolish. What happens if they catch him?

For one heart-stopping moment, I wonder whether Lucien organized it this way intentionally. Get Ash out of the way. Still save me.

Then I remember Lucien’s warning about the key. I
didn’t even think to ask Garnet. What if this is a setup? What if Garnet isn’t working for Lucien after all?

“All right there, ladies?”

A Regimental blocks our path. He’s about Garnet’s age, and very tall, with a mop of dark curly hair. His eyes skim over my body in a way that makes me wish I were wearing about ten more layers.

I have no idea what to say, so I curtsy. That always worked in the Jewel.

This seems to please the Regimental. “I saw you girls nearly get run over by that coach. You ought to be more careful.” His eyes flicker to the bruise on my cheek. “You don’t want to get more of those.” He reaches out, like he’s actually going to touch my face, and I shrink away. He laughs. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here for your protection.” His chest swells a little as he says it. “You heard about that companion, right?”

I nod once, a short, tight movement.

“Dangerous fellow. But don’t worry, we’ll find him soon enough.” He winks at me. “Has anyone ever told you, you have absolutely stunning eyes?”

I finally find my voice. “We need to be getting home,” I say. “Our mistress will be wondering where we are.”

“I’ll gladly escort you to—”

“No, thank you,” I say, ducking around him and pulling Raven with me. Raven mutters something under her breath, but I keep walking and don’t look back. We weave our way through the crowds, and I’m so focused on getting away from the Regimental that it’s a few moments before I realize I’ve lost Ash. I slow my pace, frantically searching
for the stack of papers. The crowd swells around me as the street empties out into a large square. Other streets pour into it from all directions.

The square is host to an open-air market; stalls are set up all around. Many boast large wicker baskets filled with all sorts of vegetables—bunches of carrots, strings of onions, heads of broccoli, potatoes, kale, beets, winter squash. The scent of fresh bread hovers around a baker’s stall. A potbellied man shouts out prices for large glass jugs of cider.

“I can’t find him,” I whisper. “Raven, do you see him?”

We can’t stay in one place—I fear the Regimental might follow us, and the best way to find Ash is to keep moving. I try searching for Garnet instead, but there are so many Regimentals and they all look the same. Raven and I move slowly among the stalls. I hear snatches of conversation, most of which are about Ash. There is an overtone of shock and outrage, but I sense that the people of the Bank are loving this story. Such juicy gossip, a companion and a surrogate. I wonder whether any of them know him, personally. Whether he has friends in this market or—I shudder—former clients.

“C’mon,” I mutter to myself. “Where are you?”

Suddenly, Raven stops walking. Her face has gone pale, her eyes taking on that strange, double-focused look, like she’s seeing something I can’t see.

“What is it?” I ask.

“She knows him,” she says.

“What?”

Without another word, Raven bolts.

“Raven!” I cry, grabbing for her arm too late. I run after
her, squeezing my way through the crowd, and trip over a basket of cabbage. Next thing I know I’m sprawled on the ground with scraped palms, leafy green balls tumbling all around me.

“Are you all right, miss?” the stall owner asks, but I scramble to my feet, pushing through the crowd, because I can’t have lost them both, I can’t be without Raven and Ash.

Then I see him. Time freezes for a moment and the world slows as Ash appears in the far corner of the market. Raven is only a few feet away from him. How she knew where he was, I have no idea—as I watch, her head turns to the left. I follow her gaze and see a woman speaking to a Regimental and pointing in Ash’s direction.

I feel a strange whooshing sensation, as if a great tunnel of wind had dropped down through my torso. Raven’s words echo in my head.

She knows him.

Raven reaches Ash at the very moment I hear the whistle blow.

“There he is!” someone shouts.

The market erupts in chaos.

Regimentals are everywhere. People pushing and shoving, stalls are toppled over, more whistles blow . . . I get knocked down again and by the time I get to my feet, I can’t see Raven or Ash anywhere. I can’t find Garnet among the sea of red uniforms.

I am all alone.

I push my way to the edge of the square, fighting against the swarm of people who can’t seem to decide which way they want to go.

“Did you see him?”

“Is he
here
?”

“Have they caught him?”

“Right here, in Landing’s Market,
imagine
!”

I finally make it past the last of the stalls and onto one of the smaller streets, so wrapped up in panic that I run smack into a petite blond girl.

“Oh!” I cry as we both tumble to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, I—” The girl blinks and looks at me. “Violet?” she gasps.

It’s Lily.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

A
S SOON AS WE’RE ON OUR FEET,
L
ILY THROWS HER ARMS
around me.

The last time I saw her was on the train from Southgate to the Auction. I remember her singing that Marsh-song in her plaintive, sweet voice. She was so excited to start her life as a surrogate.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Why are you dressed like a servant? What happened to your
face
?”

Lily is wearing a simple gray coat and a pretty purple hat with a yellow ribbon on it. She looks cared for. She looks healthy. I want to hold on to her and never let go. I want to make sure she’s real.

But I can’t stay here.

“Help me,” I gasp.

“Of course,” Lily says. “Are you lost? Do you need help finding your mistress? Oh, Violet, I thought I’d never see you again! You live in the Jewel, don’t you? You must, I knew of course that someone in the royalty would have bought you. Did your mistress take you shopping? Have you seen Raven at all? Is she in the Jewel, too? Oh, have you heard about that companion!”

I’d forgotten just how much Lily can talk—a strange sensation bubbles up in my chest, a mixture of happiness and exasperation.

“Lily,” I interrupt, before she can keep going, “I need a place to hide.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “From what?”

A few Regimentals run past us at that moment, one of them yelling, “Search the alleys!”

I shrink back against the wall. “From them,” I say.

Lily looks from the retreating Regimentals to me and back again. I see something click in her expression. The next moment, her hand slips into mine.

“Come with me,” she says.

We hurry down narrow streets that blur together, pink and gray and red stone, glinting glass windows, trees with neatly trimmed branches, bare and leafless now that winter is here. The houses get smaller, plainer, the farther away from the market we go. Finally, Lily stops in front of a pale-yellow house, sandwiched between a red one and a gray one. It’s only two floors, but it has a cheery blue door with a wreath of hellebore hanging on it.

“Quickly,” she says, hurrying up the steps and taking out a key. We slip through the door into a combination of front hall and living area—a smattering of mismatched couches and armchairs surround a low wooden coffee table to my left. Directly in front of me is a set of stairs.

“This way,” Lily says, as we run up to the second floor. It’s a single hallway, lined with a worn red carpet. All the doors are closed. Lily reaches one hand up, a gesture that makes no sense until I see the dangling rope, then a hatch opens and a ladder descends from the ceiling.

“Up, up, up!” she says. I climb into semidarkness, expecting Lily to follow me. Instead, I turn to find her folding up the ladder.

“I’ll be back tonight,” she says. Then she closes the hatch before I have a chance to thank her, or ask any questions, or wonder if there might be something to eat up here.

I am sealed off, in an attic, in a strange house, in the Bank.

I am utterly on my own.

E
XHAUSTION OVERCOMES ME, AND
I
FALL ASLEEP DESPITE
the ache in my stomach and the fear that clogs my lungs.

I don’t remember the last time I slept. Over twenty-four hours, at least. I suppose I needed it. But it doesn’t make me feel better.

When I wake, I am completely disoriented. For a second I think I’m in the dungeons, in the palace of the Lake, but then I feel the lumpiness of the ancient, sagging couch I collapsed on, and my eyes adjust, and I remember.

The attic has a musty smell. There is a small, half-moon window that looks out over the street—I can tell from the dimness of the light that evening has fallen. There are several rolled-up rugs piled against one wall. I find some moth-eaten sheets draped over the back of the couch. A broken lamp, a few boxes containing books and some old photographs, an empty birdcage, and stacks of yellowing newspapers are scattered about the narrow space. The ceiling slants sharply downward, so I have to crouch a bit as I silently make my way to the window.

The sound of voices freezes me in place. A man’s first, then a woman’s. I clap my hands over my mouth, a physical reinforcement to ensure I don’t make a sound.

I can’t hear what they’re saying. I think they’re on the ground floor. The voices become more muffled, finally vanishing into some part of the house too far away for me to hear.

The couch springs creak as I sit down. My whole body is trembling. My head throbs and I realize I’m clenching my jaw so hard my teeth are grinding together.

My solitude comes crashing down on me. Where are Raven and Ash? Have they been caught? My empty stomach contracts at the thought of Ash once again thrown into a cell. Ash, with his head on the chopping block. Raven, sent back to the House of the Stone. Or worse—side by side on a matching block with Ash.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will the images to disappear. I don’t know anything and thinking the worst will not help. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes and a flurry of sparks appears in the darkness behind my lids.

The base of my skull begins to buzz.

I have a wild, fleeting thought that I’ve snapped from the stress before I remember the arcana. I gasp and struggle with the knot I made in my hair, so many lifetimes ago, when Annabelle was still alive, and I lived in the Duchess’s palace.

I finally tug it free, barely feeling the sharp sting when a few hairs come out with it. It rises in the air, hovering inches away from my face.

“Lucien?” I whisper.

His voice comes across immediately. “Where are you?”

“I . . . I’m . . .” I don’t know how to answer him. I have no idea where I am. “I’m in the Bank.”

“What happened? Why didn’t you make it to the safe house with the others?”

“I got—oh, Lucien, are Raven and Ash okay? Are they there?”

“Yes, but what happened to
you
?” Lucien’s voice is clipped, impatient.

Raven and Ash are all right. They’re safe. My legs melt into the couch.

“We got separated,” I say. “And then I ran into a friend, another surrogate. Someone I knew from Southgate. I’m hiding in her attic.” I want to hold the arcana, cradle it in my hands but I don’t know whether touching it will end the communication or harm it in some way.

“What do you mean? Who is she?”

“I literally ran into her. I knocked her down in the street. I didn’t even know she lived around here. But she’s a good person, Lucien. She helped me. We can trust her.”

“Violet, we don’t know who we can trust.”

“Well, she was my friend and right now she’s all I’ve got.”

“She doesn’t have a key. You must
always
ask about the key.”

“Garnet doesn’t have a key.”

“Did you ask him if he does?”

“. . . no.”

There’s a long pause.

“What is your friend’s last name?”

“Deering,” I say. “Her name is Lily Deering.”

“Lily Deering,” he repeats. “I’ll find out where you are.” He sounds disgruntled.

“We did everything we were supposed to,” I insist. “Someone recognized him.”

“I’m glad you’re safe.” I can sense Lucien holding back what he’d really like to say, and again, I worry that he’d be happier if Ash had been arrested in that market. If that was what he intended all along. “We’ll speak again soon.”

“Wait!” After everything I’ve been through, I’m tired of all the mystery. I deserve some answers. “I’ve followed your orders. I’ve done what you asked, but you haven’t given me a single, solid reason why. Why is this worth it? Why am
I
worth it?”

There is another long pause.

“Are you happy with the way this city is run, Violet?”

“You mean, the royalty? You know I how I feel about them.”

Lucien sighs. “You are not seeing the larger picture. This is not just about surrogates. This is about an entire
population enslaved to serve the needs of the few. And it gets worse with every passing year. You have a power that you cannot even begin to comprehend. I am trying to help you realize that and do some good with it.”

“And yet, you don’t tell me what you want, or what that power is, or how I’m supposed to help. Let me
help
, Lucien.”

“Do you honestly think that all the Auguries are good for is making healthy royal children?”

I suppose I hadn’t really thought about it. I don’t like using the Auguries at all, so I never considered there could be another purpose for them. But I was able to put that fire out. Well, with Raven’s help.

Lucien takes my silence as an answer. “Exactly. You have more power than you think, but I am not the one who can show you how to use it.”

“And once I know how to use it, then what?”

“Help me. Help me tear down these walls that confine us, that separate us. Help me save not only the surrogates but everyone who is under the royalty’s thumb. The ladies-in-waiting. The servants. The factory workers who die of black lung, the farmhands who feed the royals but barely have enough to eat themselves. The children dying from lack of basic necessities in the Marsh. I am not the only one who thinks the royalty’s time is coming to end. We have all been bound to them in some way. We have all suffered for them.” He says that last part so softly, I barely hear him. “We deserve to be free.”

I think about Annabelle, so sweet and frail. I see the bloody gash across her neck and have to shut my eyes for
a moment, swallowing back a sob. What was her crime? Nothing. Being my friend. Annabelle did not deserve to die. And no one will be punished for her death. The Duchess will go on as if it had never happened.

I think about Hazel—how much longer will my little sister be able to stay in school? How long until she has to join Ochre, working to keep my family alive?

How much longer before she is forced to take the blood test for surrogacy? The thought sets my stomach in knots. I picture Hazel ripped from my family, arriving at Southgate, alone, afraid. I see her nose bleeding as she learns the Auguries, see her standing on that silver X on the platform at the Auction House. Hazel cannot be a surrogate.

But I don’t see how I can help them. I hate that I’m stuck in this attic, alone and powerless. Lucien seems to sense my hesitancy.

“I don’t expect you to understand everything right now. Keep the arcana close. Someone will come for you.”

I open my mouth to argue but find I’m too tired. “Okay,” I agree.

“Get some sleep, honey. You’ve had a long day.” There is another pause. “And remember. Don’t trust anyone until they show you the key.”

The arcana drops into my open hands, leaving me with even more questions than I started. I sigh and secure it back into my hair.

I’
M IN THAT STRANGE STATE BETWEEN WAKING AND
dreaming when Lily comes to see me.

It’s very late. There’s hardly any light in the attic, just
a tiny sliver of moonlight on the floor by the window. I’m lying on the couch, my thoughts tangled up in dark tunnels and dying fires and Annabelle and wanted posters, when the hatch creaks open.

I sit up so quickly it makes me dizzy. A flickering light illuminates Lily’s face as it pops up through the hole in the floor. She climbs into the attic, carrying a tray laden with two small jars, a glass of water, a fat white candle, and—my stomach groans—a covered plate that brings the faintest scent of cooking.

“Hi,” she whispers, setting the tray down on the floor. I practically fall off the couch toward the food. Lily’s brought me several slices of pot roast smothered in thick brown gravy and cold boiled potatoes. I want to ignore the utensils and shove the food hand over fist into my mouth.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say through a mouthful of potato.

Lily lets me eat in silence until the plate is clean. I let out an involuntary sigh and lean back against the couch.

“Thank you,” I murmur, taking a huge gulp of water.

Lily moves the tray aside. “I brought these for your face,” she says, unscrewing the tops of the jars of cream. One she spreads on my cheek—it sends a pleasant, cooling sensation through the bruise. Ice ointment. I remember when Cora, the Duchess’s lady-in-waiting, used it, after the Duchess hit me for the first time. The second one smells sharply antiseptic, and Lily dabs it on the cut on my lip. It stings a little.

“There,” she says. “That bruise should be gone by tomorrow.”

She replaces the caps on the jars, covers the empty plate, and pushes the tray aside. Then she sits up on her knees and looks at me with wide blue eyes.

“So,” she says, in a tone of voice I know so well, one that I heard countless times, whenever a new issue of
The Daily Jewel
arrived, or the lot numbers were given out, or any particularly juicy bit of gossip reached her ears. “What
happened
?”

I’m so full and exhausted, and I can’t bear to lie anymore. I tell her everything—almost. I don’t mention Lucien by name, only insinuate that someone inside the Jewel helped me escape, and I don’t tell her where I’m going (not that I know myself). I tell her about Raven, and how I helped her instead of my taking the serum. Lily practically cries when I tell her I was bought by the Duchess—“A Founding House? Oh, Violet!”

And then I tell her about Ash.

“Shhhh!” I hiss as she lets out a yelp.

“
You’re
the surrogate?” Lily whispers. “But . . . but they’re saying he
raped
you, Violet.”

“That’s a lie,” I say vehemently.

“But did you . . . I mean, you didn’t have . . .

I nod.

Lily gasps and her hands fly to her chest. “It’s like . . . it’s like . . . the most forbidden romance
ever
. It’s better than the Exetor and the Electress!”

I smile at the simplicity of it. “I’ll tell you about it later,” I say. After all that food, it’s a fight to keep my eyes open. “Where are we?”

“Thirty-Four Baker Street. It’s not the nicest part of the
Bank, but it’s prettier than the Marsh, isn’t it? Some people call this area the Cheap Streets,” Lily says with an indignant sniff. “But I think it’s very pleasant.”