The Black Key (2 page)

B
UT BEFORE
I
EVEN GET A CHANCE TO OPEN MY MOUTH
, I'm interrupted.

“Violet . . . what . . .” Ginger gapes at me. She's the oldest of the three new girls, with carrot-colored hair and broad shoulders. “What are you doing here?” Her gaze snaps to Amber. “What is she
doing
here? I told you I didn't want to get in trouble!”

“Stop whining,” Amber says. “We picked you for a reason. Don't you want to know why?”

Amber is a bit of a bully, but she was an excellent first choice. None of the girls ever want to argue with her and she knows exactly how to push them.

“Aren't you supposed to be in the Jewel?” Tawny asks.
She's fifteen, with eyes like a doe, and they are so wide right now they seem to take up half her face.

“I was,” I say. “But now I'm here to help you.”

“Help us?” Henna asks. She's a tiny thing with russet skin and curly black hair. Something about her reminds me of Hazel, and it makes my heart pinch. She doesn't look frightened or confused, but curious. “How?”

“You'll see,” a pretty redhead named Scarlet says, putting an arm around her. “It's incredible.”

“We've been practicing,” Amber says. “Scarlet made a whirlpool in one of the bathtubs the other night. I made a mini tornado in the palm of my hand, like the one you showed me the first time you came.”

“That's wonderful,” I say at the same time Ginger says, “Scarlet made a what?”

“You better not let anyone catch you,” Raven says.

Amber shoots her a smug look. “We're careful.”

I would have thought that having so many young girls be opened to the elements in one place would be dangerous, volatile. But it has turned out to be the opposite. I noticed it first with Indi and Olive. They didn't experience the same fitful, destructive sleep that I did when I first changed from surrogate to something more, because Sienna and Sil and I were there. It's like the more of us there are together, the easier the elements are to keep under control. As if we keep one another anchored.

We're lucky. Otherwise some poor girl might have accidentally destroyed her room in her sleep. It would be hard to explain that to the caretakers.

“All right, what is going on?” Ginger demands, folding
her arms across her chest. “How did you get here? Why aren't you in the Jewel? Why did you drag us out of bed in the middle of the night?”

“I knew she'd be the worst,” Amber mutters to me. Raven chuckles softly.

I take a deep breath and begin to explain. It's a story I've told many times, and I've got it down quite succinctly. I tell them about what it means to be a surrogate—about the leashes, about the stimulant gun, about the humiliations of being forced to perform in front of the royals. How we are treated as property, as pets. I tell them about Dahlia, killed by the Duchess of the Lake for no reason other than spite. I tell them about Raven, how the Countess of the Stone cut into her brain. Raven leans forward at that point.

“You can still feel them,” she says, motioning for Ginger to touch her scalp.

“Feel what?” Ginger asks.

“The scars.”

Raven's skull is so covered with them that it only takes one touch before Ginger recoils.

“Violet saved my life,” Raven says in a flat tone. She reaches into the pocket of her shirt and pulls out the photographs. This is my least favorite part. “Otherwise, I would have ended up like this. And so will all of you if you are sold on Auction Day.”

I keep my eyes trained on a lone curl by Henna's temple. I hate these photographs. I was grateful when Raven offered to be in charge of showing them. I think she knew how much it hurt me to see.

There are four girls, all dead, their lips blue, their skin
waxy. Their eyes are closed but there are deep V scars on their chests. Lucien told me that sometimes, if a doctor was particularly interested, an autopsy would be performed. Not to determine cause of death—they know that already. Just to see what we're like inside. Just because we're different.

Henna gasps. Tawny looks away. Ginger leans forward.

“Are those . . . are these real?” she says.

“Is that Verdant?” Henna gasps again. Every photograph is of a girl from each of the holding facilities. Verdant was sold at the Auction before mine.

My and Raven's faces are the only answer she needs. Ginger takes a step back, her face full of horror.

“They told us the royalty would take care of us,” she says. “They . . . Patience said—”

“Patience lied,” I say.

“This is the fate of every surrogate who has ever been Auctioned,” Raven says. “Childbirth kills us, if another royal House doesn't get to us first. But for the first time in our history, the surrogates have a chance to do something about it.”

I reach out and touch Raven's shoulder. “Put those away,” I say. “They understand.”

Tawny is blinking back tears. “But why? We help them. We give them babies. Why do they want to k-kill us?”

“Our deaths are merely a by-product,” I say. “A result of an unnatural pregnancy. We aren't sure why bearing a royal child causes death. Maybe it's the Auguries. Maybe it's because we were never meant to carry children besides our own. Whatever it is, we are only a means to an end for them. They don't see us as people at all. We have no names
in the Jewel. Our opinions don't matter.

“But,” I continue, “there are people in this city who want change. People who are risking their lives to fight the royalty's hold over us. Why do they keep us separated by walls? Why do they dictate what we do with our lives, where we work, how much we earn? Why don't we have a say in how we live?”

“And it's not just the surrogates who get treated like they're expendable,” Raven adds. “There's a whole city out there that's being oppressed.”

“Imagine what we might accomplish if we all worked together,” I say.

“Excuse me,” Henna says, raising her hand as if this is a class. “You said we finally have a chance to do something about this. But . . . we're locked up in here, watched over by caretakers. The only power we have is the Auguries. I don't see how changing the color of something is all that useful.”

“Let's take them to the cliff,” a brunette named Sorrel says, tugging on Raven's sleeve—she's the youngest of all the girls in this group.

“Yes, the cliff,” Scarlet says eagerly.

“I can't believe you knew about this and didn't tell me,” Ginger says.

Scarlet looks sheepish. “I couldn't; they made me promise! Once you go to the cliff, you'll see—it's really too dangerous to talk about. If anyone found out . . .”

“All right, enough talk,” I say. “It's time to show you.”

Amber, Scarlet, and the other girls we've already shown the elements to quickly form a circle. Scarlet takes Ginger's hand with an apologetic look.

“Don't be too mad,” she says. “You'll love it when you see it.”

Raven squeezes my fingers. I smile and close my eyes. I love going to the cliff.

It is a strange place, somewhere nebulous between the real world and a former Paladin stronghold. The Paladin were a race of warrior women, gifted with the use of the elements and charged with protecting this island. The royalty came in ships, claimed the island for their own, and killed all the Paladin.

Or so they thought. But the Paladin survived. We surrogates are their descendants. Lucien thinks it's genetics that make some women (like me) have the ability to connect with the elements while others (like my mother) can't. He believes it's a recessive trait, like having blue eyes. Sil told him that's crap, and not everything can be explained so easily.

Either way, it doesn't matter. These girls before me are Paladin, and it's time to show them what that means.

The cliff first appeared when I saved Raven's life, after she miscarried. I don't know what took me to that place, if it was fate or chance or pure love, but once I went there, I felt an instant connection with the elements, with my heritage. I understood myself and the world in a way I never had before.

That's what we did with Sienna, and Indi, and Olive. That's what we've done with all the girls in the facilities. Get Raven to them. Take them to the cliff.

A second after I close my eyes, I'm falling. I hear a faint shriek that I think is Tawny, but it's okay, we're already in a place where the sleeping occupants of Southgate can't hear us.

It's nighttime on the cliff, and raining. The weather here often reflects the weather in the real world. Or sometimes it reflects the surrogate's own desire, like when we took Sienna, and it was snowing because Sienna loves the snow.

The drops of rain are warm and run down my cheeks in rivulets as I raise my face to the sky. The ocean stretches out below, and while I can barely see it in the darkness, I hear the waves crashing against the rocks. The trees that stretch out behind me rustle in the wind. And in the center of the cliff is the statue, a monument of blue-gray stone that leaps up in a spiral, a frozen wave reaching to the sky.

I've missed it here,
I murmur in my mind.

Me too,
Raven replies wordlessly.

Me three,
Amber adds. Some of the girls who have been here before run off to do their favorite things. Azure dances under the trees. Sorrel gazes out over the cliff, listening raptly to the roar of the ocean. Ginger stands in a state of shock, Scarlet beside her still holding her hand. Tawny seems torn between fear and excitement.

Henna's eyes are wide as she circles the statue, reaching out a cautious hand to touch it. I know what she's feeling—stone that is impossibly smooth, like water made solid.

Then Henna begins to laugh. She holds her hands up to catch the raindrops, and I smile because she is ours now. She sees who she was meant to be.

Something in her laugh makes Tawny laugh, and then the two of them are running to the edge of the cliff with Sorrel, so close I think they might fall.

But they won't. The Paladin made this place and they protect it. They protect us, here.

Scarlet is making the rain dance and swirl around Ginger's head, to the older girl's delight. It still hits me every time, how free we are here, how wild and unabashedly ourselves. Every time I see a new girl feel it, this connection with one another and the world around us, it gives me hope.

Time to go,
Raven says, and we are pulled away, sucked upward until we are back inside the greenhouse at Southgate. Tawny is crying openly and Ginger's eyes are glassy. Henna looks windswept and exhilarated.

“What . . . I . . .” Ginger can't form what she wants to say. I remember the feeling well.

“What
was
that place?” Henna asks eagerly.

“Look down,” I say. The three of them do and gasp.

Dark purple flowers bloom at Ginger's feet, pale pink ones at Tawny's. Henna's are a brilliant orange. For several long moments, they stare, enraptured, as the rain patters on the glass above our heads.

“Tell them about the Paladin, Violet,” Scarlet says.

“Tell them about the Society of the Black Key,” Amber says.

“And you must tell us more stories, Violet!” Azure insists. “We want to know what's happening out there.”

“One thing at a time,” I say. I take a breath and begin to talk.

“S
O IT
'
S
W
ESTGATE NEXT
,” I
SAY, BARELY STIFLING A
yawn. We were at Southgate all night, until just before dawn. “We'll leave in two days.”

“I can't wait to sleep in my own bed tonight.” Raven shifts uncomfortably in her damp cloak.

The train car is packed with workers, even though the sun has only been above the horizon for less than an hour. Lucien made all of us forged documents, assigning us as farm labor. The best way to get between the circles of the city, he said, is to hide in plain sight. No one thinks much about workers from the Marsh anyway.

On our first train ride here, I was terrified a Regimental would spot us, see through our flimsy piece of paper and
cry, “Arrest them!” But everyone in the Jewel thinks Raven is dead, and no one is looking for me, since everyone thinks my sister
is
me. The Regimental who checked our papers barely gave us a glance.

It was the same with the other holding facilities. No one gave any notice to a few teenage farmworkers.

I watch the sun rise over the mud-brick houses that flash past the train window. This ride is so different from the train I took to the Auction. Back then I was starting a new life in a strange place, full of fear and anticipation.

This time I know exactly where I'm going—back to the White Rose. And I can't wait to get there.

I wonder how this day will be for Ginger and Tawny and Henna. They must feel so strange, so alive, everything vibrant and new, colors more clear, scents more potent. I'm glad they have Amber and the other girls to help, to guide them. Henna connected with Air right away—there was a look of wonder in her eyes as the wind began to swirl around her, reacting to her thoughts. Scarlet showed Ginger how to make little cracks in the earth, and Tawny sent raindrops splashing upward instead of down. It never gets old, seeing these girls wonder at their own abilities. And the more of them Raven and I can get to, the stronger my hope grows.

My stomach rumbles. I hope Sil has made biscuits for breakfast. A warm, flaky biscuit with strawberry jam would be perfect right now. And a kiss from Ash and maybe a hug from Indi. Indi loves hugging.

I don't realize I've fallen asleep until Raven is shaking me awake.

“We're here,” she says.

We trudge off the train at Bartlett Station and my heart leaps when I see Sil among the crowd of carts and carriages, her horse, Turnip, shaking her sandy mane. Sil is dressed in her usual overalls and flannel shirt. Her black, kinky hair, streaked with gray at her temples, encircles her head like a wild halo.

“So,” she says, after we've climbed into the bed of the cart and she's given Turnip a flick of the reins, “how did it go?”

“The usual. They were scared and stubborn at first, but when they see the pictures and then the cliff, everything changes,” Raven says.

“His Royal Keyness will be pleased to hear it, I'm sure,” Sil says. She and Lucien have a sort of grudging friendship. But I suspect they each care for the other more than they'd ever admit.

“How are things at the White Rose?” I ask.

She snorts. “You've been gone one night, what, you think Sienna burned the house down?”

“I wouldn't put it past her,” Raven mutters.

“Don't think your boyfriend slept much, but otherwise everything's the same. Sienna throwing around attitude and Indi always trying to give me a damned hug. Olive's started sewing another dress. A ball gown, she says. Asked me if there was any way I could get her some chiffon.”

Raven and Sil have a good chuckle over that, but Olive's attachment to everything royal makes me nervous, not amused.

Sil loves complaining about the new girls but I think she secretly enjoys the company. She was alone for so long
before Azalea, Lucien's sister, found her.

I start to drift off again as we enter the forest. It's going to be a warm day—last night's rain drips from the leaves overhead and Raven pulls up the hood of her cloak. I leave mine down. I love the feel of water in my hair.

The forest grows denser the farther we travel into it. The White Rose is hidden here, protected by some ancient Paladin magic, Sil suspects. She believes they led her to it, to a clearing where nothing but a broken-down farmhouse remained. The trees grow in strange shapes in this forest, their trunks bent at odd angles, their branches sometimes growing straight into the ground.

I feel the tug, the gentle pull in my stomach that signifies that we are close.

Sure enough, a few minutes later we emerge into the clearing, the redbrick farmhouse in its center a welcoming sight. And even more welcoming is the familiar figure standing on the front porch.

Ash is already down the stairs and jogging toward us before we're halfway across the clearing. I jump down from the bed of the wagon and run to meet him. He lifts me up in his arms and I bury my face into his neck.

“You're back,” he whispers. I kiss his ear.

“I hope you didn't worry too much.”

He sets me down on my feet. “I might have slept for an hour or two. That's an improvement.”

I run my fingers through his hair—it's gotten longer in the last couple months—then gently touch the shadows under his eyes. He slips his hand into mine and we walk back toward the house. Sil and Raven have already gone
inside. I tell him about the last three girls.

“So now all the Southgate surrogates going to the Auction know they are Paladin,” I say. “Any news from the other circles?”

While the Marsh seems to have remained fairly untouched by the strife building in the city, it's getting bad in the Bank and the Smoke. And even though I understand that this is what a revolution entails, I hate seeing the reports in the papers, the bombings, the damage, the death. Every day we hear about more arrests, more violence. The Society is targeting royal strongholds: Regimental barracks and magistrate offices and banks. Trying to gauge reaction time and keep the royalty confused. Never the same quarter or circle twice in a row. Black keys are scrawled on walls and doors. We're hearing more and more reports of unplanned violence, of people making attacks on the royalty on their own.

Ash has been training a swath of Society members in this quarter, but his reach is limited, since there's still a warrant out for his arrest and execution. He can't go to the other quarters, or into the other circles, like I can.

“Mostly the same.” Ash's frown is deep. “I can't stop thinking about the companions. If I could just get to them, they could help us so much.”

“I know,” I say patiently. We've had this discussion before. “Lucien says he's doing all he can for them. But you're still a fugitive.”

“Lucien isn't doing anything because he
can't
do anything for them. They won't trust him,” Ash says. “That's a fact.”

I don't want to have this argument again. Over the past few months, Ash has grown more and more restless, his concern for the companions rising with each new attack in the Bank.

“But you're helping so much here,” I say. “Look what you've done for Raven, for the Whistler and his crew, for all the Society members in the South Quarter.”

The Whistler, one of Lucien's top agents, runs a tattoo parlor where the Society meets in secret. My brother, Ochre, works with him now. Ash has been training other young men and women to fight, so they can teach those in the surrounding quarters and circles, since he can't leave the South Quarter himself.

“Yeah, only in this quarter, and only at night when no one can see me, and
only
when Sil is going there.” Ash stops and sits down on the front steps, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “Rye is in the Jewel, right in the Duchess's own home! If I could just . . . contact him somehow. And don't bring up Lucien again—he's a genius, but companions are notoriously wary of ladies-in-waiting. They can get you in a lot of trouble if they want.”

It always surprises me when Ash talks about the behind-the-scenes parts of the Jewel. The sniping among the servants or the illicit romances. The hierarchies that exist among the royalty's underclass.

“You're doing everything you can,” I say. “Your very name is enough to get people joining our cause.”

Ash has become something of a legend in the Lone City. His wanted status works in our favor. The rogue companion, falsely accused, who escaped the Jewel and the clutches
of the royalty—the fugitive who evaded capture. He's a hero in Society circles.

“So I just sit back and let my name do all the work while companions continue to be abused and are dying?” Ash says.

The life of a companion is a hard one. I was shocked when Ash finally told me about it. They often become suicidal, cut themselves, or get high on a liquid form of opiate called blue. Rye, Ash's roommate who helped us escape the Bank, was using it when I met him a few months back.

I put my hand on Ash's neck and try to rub some of the tension away.

“I know it's hard,” I say. “But it's the only way. The Bank is too dangerous for you. The White Rose is the only place where you'll be safe.”

“But it's okay for you to be at risk?” he asks. “You and Raven and the girls, you travel to the holding facilities. That isn't safe at all.”

Before I can reply, the front door is thrown open. “Oh, Violet, you're back!”

Indi wrenches me away and engulfs me in a hug. She is so tall, my head only comes up to her shoulders.

“How was it? Did you find the girls you were looking for?”

“We did,” I say, patting her back. “It went fine. I'll tell you all about it, but first I need food or I'm going to fall over.”

“Of course, you must be starving. Let me fix you a plate.” Her face turns a little pink as she looks at Ash. “Do you want a plate, too?”

Even though Indi's known Ash for months now, she still blushes around him. To Ash's credit, he always acts as though he hasn't noticed.

“I'll be in in a little bit,” he says. “Got to take Turnip back to the barn first.”

He gives my hand a squeeze, so I know the argument is over for now. Turnip is munching on some grass, still hooked up to the wagon. He leads her off to the barn that sits at the edge of the ring of trees, and I watch and wish there was something I could do for him.

But I won't let him go back to the Bank. That's a death sentence for certain.

“Well, come on, Violet,” Indi says, her eyes, like mine, focused on Ash's retreating figure. “I want to hear about last night, and you know the way Raven will tell it, she'll leave out all the good details and just be gruff when I ask questions.”

“Indi!” Sil's voices booms from behind the screen door. “Your damned muffins are burning.”

Indi gasps and whirls around, vanishing into the house.

I stand for a second on the porch, letting the sun warm my face. I want to hold on to this morning tightly, to imprint it in my brain, a talisman against whatever darkness the future holds.

In this moment, I am safe and alive, and surrounded by friends.