THREE

I WAKE TO THE CHIMING OF THE CATHEDRAL BELLS. AGAIN.

It’s incredibly rude of them to interrupt my dream. Ale and I were at our wedding reception in the courtyard of his family’s manor, surrounded by a rapt crowd. I looked, somehow, even more stunning than I usually do. We were making the first cut into our massive wedding cake, and I swear I can taste the creamy frosting and the toasted pecans now.

Last night, full of pre-wedding jitters, I ventured down to my family’s kitchen to check on the cake. A maid was perfecting the white frosting. I stuck my finger in it for a taste, and she went pale with horror and scrambled to fix the dent. I waited until she turned her back. Then stuck my finger in again.

The cathedral bells die off, and the noise of the watercrea’s tower seeps back in. Somewhere below, someone else’s chain is scraping against the bars. The person next to me is still taking long, labored breaths. I wish they would hurry up and die. The sound is rattling my bones.

I just want to be out of here and in the House of Morandi. I want to be clean and warm and sipping sugary coffee in a parlor with my best friend.

The cathedral bells chime again. I close my eyes and count.

Five bells.

I wait.

Six bells.

This is getting ridiculous. I clearly don’t belong in this cell. If I did, my omens would be halfway across my body by now.

Seven bells.

I need to relieve myself, but I’m not going to just do it all over my legs. That’s humiliating.

Eight bells.

Well, I can’t hold it any longer. This is the guards’ problem now. They’re the ones who will have to pick up my grimy body when they carry me to freedom.

Twelve bells.

That doesn’t seem like the right number of bells.

One bell.

Three bells.

I’m thirsty.

I hear a strange clinking noise. It takes me a long moment to realize that somebody is undoing the chains around my wrists. My cell door creaks open. I try to sit up, but my head is spinning and my body is aching and the next thing I know, I’m in somebody’s arms, being cradled like a child. The guard holding me smells like sweat and salty blood.

“Leaving?” I croak out.

We’re moving.

“Am I leaving?” I press.

“Quiet,” he says. “I’m taking you to the watercrea.”

The watercrea. I remember the sharp shadows of her face in the cathedral chamber. I remember her dark, cold eyes.

“No,” I whisper.

“She wants to see you,” he says. “You don’t have a choice.”

I should have anticipated this. Of course she wants to see me. I’ve defied her for ten years. I’ve lived longer than anyone with omens should.

I struggle to take in my surroundings as we move up the stairs. We pass tiny cell after tiny cell, and in every single one, there’s the shadow of a person. Most of them are slumped on the floor, and I can barely make them out.

But then I see the girls. In the cell nearby, there are two little girls crammed into the same space. They’re naked and shivering, and they’re sitting up, watching me.

My insides turn cold.

“Why—” My mouth is dry. “Why are they in the same cell?”

“We need more blood,” the guard says.

There are so many people in here that they’ve run out of space. The watercrea’s tower is supposed to be a quick death.

“How long will they live?” I say.

“Until we can’t take any more,” he says.

I wonder how long that takes. I wonder how much blood I’ve already lost and how much more I’m going to lose once the watercrea gets ahold of me.

I’ve had quite enough of this tower.

I throw myself out of the guard’s arms and hit the stairs. I’m sure it hurts, but I’m too cold and numb to feel the pain. He scrambles to grab me back, and the moment his hand touches me, I grab it and shove his fingers into my mouth.

I bite down. Hard. It crunches, and he screams, and it’s disgusting and satisfying all at once. I’m already on my feet. I’m snatching the keys off his belt and scrambling for the cell with the little girls. I unlock it, but when they push on the bars with their tiny hands, I push back.

“They’ll come after me,” I tell them, breathless. “Stay hidden and wait for your chance.”

Their eyes are huge and terrified in the dark. I only have an instant to take them in, but I can see that one has an omen on her shoulder. The other has one on her wrist.

I’m sure their omens will start spreading soon. Even still, I can’t let them die crushed together in a cell like they’re not even human.

The guard grabs me from behind, but I twist and slip out of his grip, and then I’m running. I stumble down the spiral stairs. He’s right behind me. So I let him get closer, and closer, and then I throw myself to one side and stick my leg out. He trips and goes flying down the steps. He lands in a crumpled heap, and as I run past, I kick him in the head for good measure.

I don’t belong in this prison. I don’t want to be in this prison. And I always get what I want.

When I reach the door to the tower, I can hear the guard far above. It sounds like he’s managed to get to his feet, and he’s stumbling and shouting for help. But I’m already slipping outside into the black night.

Occhia has five different neighborhoods, made up of dark manors of varying size and grandiosity. They all cluster together to form a ring around the heart of our city—the cathedral and the watercrea’s tower. Off to one side of the cathedral are the Parliament buildings, and off to the other are the public gardens. It only takes me a minute to navigate back to the winding cobblestone street where my family’s house sits.

All the windows are dark. I’m shivering in the chilly air and desperate to get inside. Everyone is going to be amazed to see me. My parents are going to wrap me in blankets and my aunts are going to feed me hot drinks, and they’re going to help me hide from the guards.

I move toward our front door. But then my eyes fall on the enormous manor at the end of the street.

The House of Morandi has been the wealthiest, most powerful family since the city began, when they took charge of organizing our government and our entire way of life. The central manor, with its towering, ornate double doors, is flanked by two wings, five stories high. Each wing has a tall trellis with ivy creeping up the sides. It’s the most flamboyant way for a family to flaunt their status. Their household is so revered that they receive enough water to keep decorative plants.

Ale’s bedroom window is at the top of one of the trellises, overlooking a small iron balcony. There’s a burning candle sitting in his windowsill.

Without really deciding to, I’m running down the street. I run all the way to the trellis and peer up at the bedroom window that’s supposed to be mine by now, and I decide the climb probably isn’t as horrible as it looks.

The climb is horrible. The only reason I make it to the top is because going back down sounds equally unappealing. By the time I drag myself over the railing of Ale’s balcony, my arms are shaking and my head is spinning. I collapse onto the balcony floor with an undignified thump and catch my breath. I peek through the large glass pane of the door to make sure his meddling mother or sister isn’t around, and then I push open the door, crawl inside, and stagger to my feet.

Ale is sitting in his bed with a book in his lap. His hand is frozen halfway to turning the page.

“You look surprised,” I say.

He looks more than surprised. His face has gone white. He’s staring at me like I’m a ghost.

“There are guards behind me, of course, so let’s move,” I continue. “I need a hiding place. Do you think I can still fit in that trunk in the nursery?”

He drops the page in his hand.

“Em—” He stammers. “Em-Emanuela.”

“I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten my name after… what was it? A whole day?”

“Three,” he whispers.

“What?”

“It’s been… three days.”

“No, it—”

I start to argue with him automatically. But then it occurs to me that he would know better, seeing as he hasn’t been locked up in a dark cell, having his blood and his consciousness sucked away.

Three days. I’ve lost three days.

“Well,” I say, “in that case, food and water wouldn’t hurt, either.”

He just stares at me.

“What?” I say. “Is it the hair?”

For the first time, I touch what’s left on my head and discover that it’s been hacked off all the way up to my chin. It’s not a big deal, I tell myself. Yes, I spent countless hours tending to it, and yes, I was rather known for inventing intricate hairstyles that no one else could figure out how to copy. But compared to losing three days of my life, it’s not a big deal.

Ale is fumbling for words. He’s still dressed for the day, his dinner jacket hanging over the bedpost. His eyes jump to the omen on my hip, but he averts them, quickly. Then they drift past me to the open balcony door.

“Guards,” he says, like he’s never heard the word before.

“Yes, there are guards behind me. That does tend to happen when one breaks out of the watercrea’s tower.”

“Guards—Emanuela—”

He scrambles off his bed and runs across the room to dig in his wardrobe, then emerges with a bundle of clothes that he shoves into my hands. The shirt is entirely too big for me, and the buttons are on the wrong side.

“Emanuela, you…” He darts around me and shuts the balcony door. “How did you get out?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard.” I attempt to pull on the pants. “I just—”

“Shh. Don’t talk so loudly— What are you doing? You have them on backward— Oh God—” He reaches over and yanks down the pants, then forces me into them the right way like a very aggressive lady-in-waiting. He has to roll up the bottoms several times.

“I bit a guard,” I declare as he buttons them for me.

“Oh God, you have blood all over you,” he says. “Oh God, Emanuela—”

“We have to hurry,” I say. “I told you. They’re right behind me.”

He still looks completely bewildered. He opens his mouth to say something else, but we’re both distracted by a soft noise that comes from the direction of his bed. There’s a lump under his covers. And it’s moving. The sheets are tossed aside, and a girl in a black nightgown sits up, rubbing her eyes and blinking around the dim room in confusion.

It’s Valentina Moretti. She’s a few years younger than us. She’s the oldest daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Occhia, and one of my many admirers.

I laugh. It’s the only possible reaction. Ale hiding a girl in his bed is the funniest thing I’ve seen all year.

“What could possibly bring you here, Valentina?” I say. “You’re in for a serious disappointment.”

At the sound of my voice, Valentina shoots to her feet. She looks utterly terrified, which I also find hilarious.

“She’s supposed to be here, Emanuela,” Ale says. “She’s—she’s my—”

Then I realize.

She’s here because she’s his wife.

Valentina runs for the door.

“Wait!” Ale lunges for her. “Valentina, don’t—”

She’s already gone. Her feet are pounding down the hall, and when Ale turns back to me, his face is all panic.

It’s been three days. And he already has another wife.

“You have to go,” Ale says.

“Go?” I echo, trying to make sense of it.

“Emanuela, she’s the watercrea.” His voice is desperate. “She controls everything. She has magic. You can’t—you can’t just run in here and expect—”

He grabs my wrist. I pull away.

“Expect what?” I say.

He tries to grab me again. I stumble back.

“Expect what?” I say again.

The door bangs open. It’s Ale’s mamma. She’s in a dark green robe and her eyes are furious.

“How are you still alive?” she demands, sounding very much like she’s taking it as a personal affront.

I ignore her and turn back to Ale.

“My family?” I say.

I don’t know what, exactly, I’m trying to ask. But he’s still giving me that helpless look, and I still don’t understand it.

“The watercrea was going to kill me,” I hear myself saying. “She was—the guard was taking me to her. She was going to—”

“And that’s what you deserve, isn’t it?” his mamma says. “You disgraced yourself already by not going to the tower the moment you got your omens. You disgraced your family. The least you can do is go away and let us all be free of you.”

Ale already has another wife.

It’s like I was never even here.

“Emanuela,” Ale says in a cautious voice. “You got your omens.”

“No,” I say. “You don’t understand. I just got one omen. It’s not spreading. But she was going to kill me anyway.”

“But—what?” he says.

“You don’t know what it’s like in there,” I say. “There were so many people—and these girls—they—”

“Shh,” he says, casting a glance at his bedroom door. “Emanuela, you can’t be in here. You have to—”

He’s not listening to me. He’s not helping me.

I could have gone to my family’s house, but I came here. I knew seeing Ale would make this all feel a little more bearable. I knew he’d do anything I asked him to. If he were in trouble, I’d help him. He’s my best friend, and if he were taken away, I would never be able to just carry on like nothing had happened. He knows that.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His mouth is trembling. “I’m sorry. I don’t want this, either. I don’t. But—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to her.” His mamma sweeps into the room and takes his shoulders. “We all belong to the tower in the end, and we go with honor, like Papá. Only a coward would run from that.”

Ale’s papá went to the tower a few months ago. Ale was very quiet about the whole thing. He never said anything to me about it, so I never said anything to him. He wore the white memorial handkerchief in his pocket for a day, as is customary, and then it was like it never even happened.

“I’m sorry,” Ale says again.

No. He’s not sorry. If he were sorry, he wouldn’t have been lounging around in his luxurious bedroom with his books and his new wife, not thinking about me at all.

I shove him and his mamma out of my way. I run for the bedroom door.

I don’t need him. I don’t know why I’m even here.

“Wait!” Ale says. “Wait, don’t—”

I’m halfway out the door when a woman in a red silk dress steps into my path.

I freeze. I don’t want to, but it’s the watercrea’s magic again. She’s stopped my blood in its tracks, or at least, that’s what it feels like. All of a sudden, my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.

“Believe it or not, I understand why you tried to run,” she says. “It’s not easy to realize that when you’re gone, the city will carry on without you, just as it always has.”

I stand there, frozen, and I imagine Ale at his new wedding. I imagine his new bride listening to the toasts meant for me and opening the gifts meant for me and sliding so easily into my place at his side.

“I knew you were hiding an omen the moment you walked past me at your wedding,” the watercrea says. “Do you know how?”

My heart is pounding in my ears.

“It was your fear,” she says. “The moment you looked at me, I saw it in your eyes.”

I wasn’t afraid of her. I’m not afraid now. She doesn’t know me.

She tilts her head, examining me. “You were hiding it for a long time, weren’t you? I’m sorry, little girl. You didn’t stand a chance. Once I see you, I can’t let you go.”

I’m not just another prisoner to her. Not after what I’ve done. She’s determined to punish me herself, and she can, because she controls everything in this city.

She steps aside, and her magic pulls me out into the hall.

No. I can’t go back there. Not without a fight. It can’t be this easy for her.

Behind me, there’s a small, dull thwack. The magic lets me go, abruptly, and I crumple.

I look over my shoulder just in time to see that the watercrea is crumpling, too. Ale is in the doorway to his bedroom, an enormous book poised in midair, staring at the woman in the red gown like he’s still trying to process what, exactly, he just did.

Occhians don’t just charge at the watercrea and whack her with a book. Even I haven’t done that.

Ale meets my eyes.

“Run,” he says.

“You’re the one who should run,” I gasp out.

The watercrea is already on her feet again. Her magic grabs me and yanks me back toward the bedroom. I slam into Ale, and we both collapse onto his bedroom floor. She advances on us, and we scramble farther into the room on our hands and knees.

“Get out,” the watercrea says over our heads.

She’s talking to Ale’s mamma, whose forehead is pressed reverently to the carpet.

I wait for Ale’s mamma to start wailing and pleading for the life of her precious son. But she crawls into the hall, whimpering with terror, and the watercrea slams the door and whirls back around.

Everyone in this city is a coward. There are thousands of us, and only one watercrea. We shouldn’t let her do this to us.

“So,” the watercrea says, her breathing ragged and her hair mussed, “you’ve got your husband in on it, too. That’s fine. I’ll take you both to the tower.”

“Why do you get to decide if we live or die?” My voice is too loud, because I have to prove that I’m not afraid. “Just because you have magic—”

She turns her gaze on Ale, and he gasps and clutches at his face. Blood is dripping between his fingers. It’s pouring out of his nose.

I’m on my feet. I charge at the watercrea on pure instinct, and she stops me with her magic.

But Ale is free. He’s coughing and sputtering, but he’s stopped bleeding.

She can only use her magic on one person at a time. I wonder if she’s ever had two Occhians disobey her at once.

“You have no idea what it takes to keep this city alive.” She spits the words. “How dare you question me. What do you think you know that I don’t? What makes you think you deserve anything other than the time I’ve allowed you? Your blood is worth more to this city than your life.”

She’s wrong. My life is worth something, and I control it. Not her. Not my omen.

Ale stumbles to his feet and reaches for me, which distracts her. The moment I’m free from the magic, I lunge at the watercrea. I don’t even know what I’m going to do. I just know that if she’s going to hurt us, I’m going to hurt her.

She turns back to me, and I’m stuck in place, my hands outstretched.

Then it’s a blur of confusion. Ale is trying to grab me. She’s trying to stop Ale. She’s trying to stop me. She’s going back and forth, back and forth—

“Enough!” she screams.

Ale flies backward. He crashes right through the glass panel of his balcony door, and I bite back a scream.

I fight other noble girls all the time. My weapons are sharp words and little jabs in the back and cruel pranks, and I always win, because I’m always willing to go the furthest. But this is nothing like a tiff with a noble girl.

The watercrea has been killing our people for a thousand years. She’ll kill us without a second thought.

She stalks across the carpet and flings open the ruined balcony door. The balcony creaks as she steps out to join Ale. He tries to crawl away, but she advances, backing him into a corner.

She’s turned her attention away from me.

And I know exactly what I have to do.

I run across the room and through the balcony door. I dive at the watercrea. I push her with everything I have, and she tumbles into the railing, and she goes over.

Then, from below, there’s a muffled crunch.

I’ve never heard anything like it before, and yet, somehow, I instantly recognize the sound of breaking bones.

And the watercrea hasn’t reappeared.

And she still hasn’t reappeared.

And I’m just standing here, staring at the spot where she was standing a moment ago. I have the sudden urge to turn and run—to slip through the depths of the Morandi manor and disappear into the night, and then I’ll never have to look over the railing and see what made that noise.

But I’m already stepping forward. I’m already peering down at the street below.

The watercrea is sprawled on the cobblestone. Her pale arms are splayed. Her neck is bent at an unnatural angle. She’s not moving. She looks like a doll that somebody stepped on.

For a moment, everything is still. Then a dark stain seeps out from behind the watercrea’s head and starts to grow. It creeps into the cracks of the cobblestone.

A single red smudge appears on the watercrea’s cheek. Then another. And another.

The omens spread. Quickly. Silently. They cover her skin like they’re eating her up, and she disappears.

Her red silk gown crumples, and the only thing left of her is a small puddle of blood.