The Black Key (4 page)

“I do not know if she is even planning anything,” Lucien says. “All I know is that the more enthusiasm the Exetor expresses for this engagement, the more furious she becomes at it. She has made some comments that lead me to believe—”

“She'd do it just out of spite,” I say. “She'd do it to get back at the Duchess.”

“Yes, but you see—”

“Ugh, these people!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Don't they get that she is someone's sister, someone's daughter, someone's friend?”

“No,” Lucien says dryly. “And I think you'd understand that better than anyone.”

His words cut but not as deeply as the thought of Hazel being assassinated. I thought I would have time. Time to get to her, to free her. Time to explain, time to apologize.

Lucien can't save her. He can't watch her twenty-four hours a day. He has other priorities, and as much as he cares for me, he would sacrifice Hazel if it meant saving the city.

“I'm going to the Jewel,” I say. “Now. Tonight.”

“Violet, don't be—”

“I'm going,” I snap, cutting him off. “What would you
do if it was Azalea? It's my fault Hazel is there at all. The Duchess took her to get to me. I know it, I feel it. If I can't protect her now, I . . .” My voice trails off because I can't finish that sentence.

“And how exactly do you plan on getting here?”

“I'll take a train to the Bank. I can burrow under the wall surrounding the Jewel as easily as Southgate.” Okay, maybe not quite as easily, but it's the same general idea.

“Not only is that a foolhardy plan that could give the game away, but what do you intend to do once you are in the Jewel itself? Walk up to the Duchess's palace and ring the doorbell? Think, Violet. There are bigger things at stake here than personal struggles.”

“And if I don't try and save Hazel now, then I don't know what I'm fighting for at all,” I say.

“You would be recognized,” Lucien says. “It's too—”

I gasp, an idea occurring to me—a crazy, rash idea that I'm not even sure is possible. But I'm willing to try anything at this point. Without another word I turn and run upstairs, ignoring the shouted questions from Sil and Raven, Lucien's tinny voice demanding to know what's going on.

Ash and I sleep in the barn together, but we keep our clothes in Raven's room. There are other clothes as well, which Sil has collected over the years. One dress I remember distinctly, because it reminded me so much of the servant's dresses Raven and I used to disguise ourselves in the Bank. I comb through the closet, find it, and yank it off the hanger—it is plain and brown, a little small across the chest but it will do. I pull it on and look at myself in the mirror. Slowly, I raise a hand and knot it in my hair.

Once to see it as it is. Twice to see it in your mind. Thrice to bend it to your will.

My scalp tingles as my hair turns from black to gold. The headache that comes with performing an Augury throbs at the base of my skull. This is how I disguised Ash when we sneaked into his companion house. It's strange to use it on myself. I turn my head back and forth, examining the unfamiliar strands of blond.

But it's my eyes that are the real problem. If I can't change them, the Duchess will spot me instantly.

I close them now. I think I can do this without physically putting my fingers on my eyeballs—the thought gives me the creeps. I just need to focus hard enough on what I want. The picture forms crystalline in my mind.

Once to see it as it is. Twice to see it in your mind. Thrice to bend it to your will.

Unlike with my hair, this Augury is agony. I scream and clap my hands over my eyes. They boil in their sockets, burning like little balls of fire. Just when I don't think I can bear it any longer, the pain stops. I stay hunched over for a moment, breathing heavily.

When I open my eyes, a stranger stares back at me in the mirror. A blond-haired, green-eyed stranger with my nose and chin. I quickly use the second Augury, Shape, to adjust the lines of my face. It hurts almost as much as my eyes, but at the end, my chin is a bit rounder, my forehead higher, my nose a little larger.

“Violet, are you—” Raven stops short in the doorway, gaping at me. “What did you
do
?”

“I'm going to the Jewel,” I say, walking past her and
back downstairs to where Lucien is probably still losing it on the arcana.

Olive shrieks as I enter the living room. Indi drops the plate she's drying. Sienna gapes. Sil looks shocked for a split second, but then I see the faintest hint of pride in her eyes.

“I told him,” she says, over Lucien's voice, which is still coming through the arcana. “You're too damned stubborn.”

“What's happening?” he demands. “Why did she scream? Sil,
answer me
!”

“I'm going to the Jewel, Lucien,” I say. “I'll get myself to the Duchess's palace. I'll watch over my sister until the Auction.”

Lucien starts laughing. In fact, he laughs for so long that Sil and I exchange a worried glance. “I'm sorry,” he says. “But this is too much, even for you. How long do you expect to stay free once the Duchess discovers you
in her own palace
? How do you plan to protect your sister when you are a captive yourself? Or maybe the Duchess will simply kill you for fun, now that she no longer requires your body to produce a child.”

“Lucien,” Sil says, clasping her hands together and resting her chin on them, “in any other circumstance I'd agree with you but . . . I don't think there's any way the Duchess will recognize her.”

“And why is that?”

“Because she looks freakishly like a different person.”

I didn't realize Sienna had come in from the kitchen. She reaches out and gently takes a lock of my hair. “Color and Shape?” she asks me. I nod. “Did it hurt?”

I grimace.

Sienna grins. “Ash is going to flip his—”

“What do you mean, like a different person?” Lucien interrupts.

“I used the Auguries,” I say. “On myself.” Tears spring to my eyes and they sizzle with residual heat from the Augury. “Please, Lucien,” I say. “Help me. Help me help my sister.”

I remember my Reckoning Day, the last time I saw my family as a whole. How angry Hazel was with me, how she thought I'd forgotten her. She didn't understand that I wasn't allowed to write to her, that Southgate had rules.

I understand the rules of the Jewel. And I won't let my sister think she's been forgotten again.

T
HE SILENCE THAT FOLLOWS IS BROKEN ONLY BY THE
loud thumping of my heart.

“Let me talk to Garnet about this,” Lucien says in a clipped tone. “Wait and don't do anything rash.”

The arcana falls silent onto the floor. I pick it up and hold it with trembling fingers. “I can't leave her there,” I say, sinking onto the couch. Raven sits beside me. “She's all alone. I can't . . .”

“I know,” Sil says, a softness in her voice.

We sit there for what feels like hours. The arcana never buzzes. Finally, I rouse myself.

“I'd better go see Ash,” I say. “He must be wondering where I am.”

I don't think he's going to take the news particularly well. Just as I stand, the arcana rises in the air.

“So,” Garnet says. “I hear you're planning a covert operation.”

“Hazel's in danger,” I say. “I have to be there. I have to do what I can.”

“Well, you're in luck,” Garnet says. “Because I happen to know of a royal House that is hiring help.”

“You do?” I say.

“Yes,” he replies. “Mine.”

Raven and I exchange a quizzical glance.

Garnet continues. “My wife needs a lady-in-waiting of her own.” Raven stiffens almost imperceptibly at the word
wife
. “Coral has been trying to hire one for months and Mother rejects every one she finds. Up until this point I've stayed out of it because there is no point in fighting with my mother over something so trivial, and honestly, I could not care less about Coral having a lady-in-waiting. But now it seems we need one. So I will merely inform everyone tomorrow that I've hired you. It's a very typical me move, a nice touch of arrogance, a dash of indifference for my mother's wishes.” I can imagine the gleam of mischief in his blue eyes. “I'll let you know which train to get on tomorrow. I'm sure there will be a new group of servants coming in—everyone is going crazy preparing for the Auction. I'll send out word that we're expecting you.”

“Thank you, Garnet,” I say fervently.

“Don't mention it. Hey, is Raven there?”

“Thought you'd never ask,” she says, stepping forward with a grin.

“Business before pleasure, always. Do you have time to talk?”

Raven laughs. “I'm not the one with the crazy wife and the overbearing mother. I've got all the time in the world.”

“Yes, but you've got Sil, and she isn't exactly a bucket of rainbows, is she? Kidding, Sil!” he says quickly before Sil can retort.

Raven takes the arcana to the front porch. I say good night to Sil and the girls and head to the barn to break the news to Ash.

H
E'S BY THE GOAT PEN, ONE OF THEM NUZZLING HIS HAND
searching for an extra treat, when I enter.

For a moment, I just stand and watch him, the strength of his shoulders, the curve of his arms, the gentleness in his touch as he rubs a black-and-white-spotted goat behind the ears. I breathe in the calm before I break it.

“Ash?” I say timidly.

He turns around and lets out a strangled yelp when he sees my new face. “What—
Violet
?”

“It's me,” I say, stepping forward. He comes closer, inspecting my eyes and nose and hair with a little bit of wonder and a lot of confusion.

“The Auguries?” he asks. I nod. “Why?”

I explain what Lucien told me about the danger Hazel is in, and how Garnet is going to hire me to work in the palace. I see his face turn from incredulous to downright stormy.

“You're serious,” he says. “You're leaving the White Rose. You're abandoning your own plan and going into the Jewel, into the heart of danger.”

I swallow. “Yes.”

“Fine.” He turns and climbs up the hayloft ladder, tossing a few things he keeps up there down, an extra shirt, his pocket watch, the photograph of his family that he took from Madame Curio's companion house. Then he climbs back down the ladder. “I'm coming with you.”

“What? No, Ash, you can't.”

“And you can?”

“I don't look like me! I don't have a million Regimentals trying to find and execute me. Garnet will look after me. I'll be safe.”

“Garnet has his own role in this revolution,” Ash says. “He can't put everything on hold just to watch over you.” He starts shoving the items into a small satchel. “Everyone in the whole damned city has a role in this revolution, except me.”

He throws the bag over his shoulder and glares.

“So when do we leave?” he asks.

I wait for a few moments, until his breathing has calmed slightly. Then I step forward and place a hand on his cheek.

“Ash, you
can't
,” I say. “You'd never make it past the Bank.”

“Stop trying to keep me safe all the time, when you clearly don't show the same consideration for yourself.” The chickens cluck nervously as he begins to pace around the barn. “You're always telling me to stay here, be patient, be protected, but what if that's not what I want? What if I want to do more, no matter the risk? And you feel like you can just waltz off to the Jewel because Hazel is in danger and expect everyone to understand. Well, I
don't
, Violet. I don't understand.”

“She
is
in danger,” I say.

“We're
all
in danger!” Ash shouts, and Turnip whinnies, shaking her mane. He runs his hand down her long neck to calm her. “Don't you even see the hypocrisy here? Don't you get how unfair it is, that you are allowed to risk everything and I am not? The companions are my surrogates, Violet. They are
my
people and they are hurting, too, but they aren't special in any way, so who cares? Who cares if they are bright, talented young men being abused and manipulated? They're pretty little things who are only good for screwing, right? Why should their voices matter?”

“That's not what . . . this is
Hazel
, Ash. My sister. You'd do the same for Cinder.”

It was the wrong thing to say and I know it immediately. Ash's head whips up, his gaze so fierce it makes me shrink away.

“Don't,” he says coldly.

My cheeks burn. “I'm sorry. I'm just saying we all have people we're willing to sacrifice for.”

“And who do I have left, Violet? You. Just you.” He takes the bag off his shoulder and drops it on the ground. “But you seem to think you are the only one allowed to make hard choices. And you don't seem to get that your choices affect other people, including me.”

He stares at me for a few seconds before shaking his head, turning on his heel, and storming out into the night.

W
HEN
R
AVEN STOPS BY THE BARN TO GIVE ME BACK THE
arcana, she knows that something is wrong.

I barely even need to explain the fight with Ash. My
whispers must have been broadcasting at full volume. She moves aside the straw dummy Ash has her practice things like chokeholds and punches on and pulls me over to sit on a hay bale, wrapping her arm around me.

“He's scared and angry,” she says. “And he wants to help.”

“I understand, but it's like he doesn't even realize the danger he'd be in if he left! I'm not saying I don't believe in him—”

“Aren't you?” Raven asks. There is no judgment in her tone but the question ruffles me anyway.

“What do you want me to do, say, ‘Yeah, Ash, great idea, go on off to the Bank and fingers crossed no one recognizes you'?”

“There are people he cares about in this city, too. And here in this house, it's all about the surrogates. We never talk about the companions. No one does. Not Lucien, not Garnet . . .” She cocks her head. “We all have our own battles. I don't want you going back to the Jewel any more than he does. I just know you well enough to know when fighting is pointless.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “You better take care of yourself. And Hazel. And keep an eye on Garnet for me.”

I smile, though the argument still weighs on me. “Yes, ma'am.”

“I wonder what his wife is like.”

“Pretty dull, from what he's told us.” Garnet generally avoids mentioning Coral if he can help it. Especially around Raven.

She hops off the bale. “So you'll be a servant again. Hey,
maybe it'll be an advantage. Maybe you can see if there's any discontent in the royal Houses, you know, and use it for our cause.”

I know she's just trying to help, to be positive. And I appreciate it. “Yeah,” I say. Then I pause. “Is . . . is he back at the house?”

“No,” Raven says. “I don't know where he is.”

I give her a parting hug and get ready for bed. I climb up into the hayloft, carrying the satchel with Ash's things in it with me. I lie down, close my eyes, and wish for sleep. But all I see is the Electress pouring poison into Hazel's water glass. Or hiring someone to push her down stairs or suffocate her in her bed or . . .

The Duchess never lets Hazel out though, I remind myself. Shouldn't her confinement be enough to keep her safe?

I open my eyes and stare at the slats in the ceiling, trying to will away my frustration and second-guessing. I always thought doing the right thing would be easy. If not easy to act on, at least easy to identify. But now I'm abandoning my own plan for something rash and half thought-out. I don't even look like myself anymore.

There's a creak on the ladder and I sit up.

“Ash?” I whisper. I feel his weight as he crawls over to me. “I'm so sorry,” I say. “I didn't—”

“Shhh.” He presses his lips to mine gently and I shiver. I pull him toward me, grateful for his comforting presence, the warmth of his body, the scent of his skin.

“I don't want to fight,” he murmurs.

“Me neither.”

His fingers trace down my neck, over my collarbone.
I'm only wearing a thin slip, and goose bumps blossom over my skin as his fingers move down toward my stomach.

“Have you ever thought about . . . after?” he asks quietly.

“After?” I ask, only half paying attention because his fingers have circled my belly button and are moving toward my right hip.

“After all this.” His lips are on my neck. “After you save Hazel. After the fighting and the tearing down of walls. After this city has been thrown into an upheaval unlike it's ever known. Say we win. The royalty don't run this city anymore. What do you want?”

“I don't know,” I say as his hand squeezes my thigh. “I haven't really thought about it.”

“All this planning and you don't even have an idea of what you want after?”

“Maybe I don't believe we'll win.”

“Maybe you're just frightened of the future.”

I find the depression at the base of his neck and kiss it gently. “And what is
your
plan for the future?”

His hand freezes on my knee. “Nothing,” he says, pulling away from me.

I'm immediately alert. “Hey,” I say, reaching up to twine my fingers in his hair, keeping him close. His eyes reflect the barest hint of moonlight that makes its way into our bed. “You can tell me.”

He sighs, then says, “I want to be a farmer.”

I wait for more explanation but he doesn't continue.

“Is that . . . all?” I say, not wanting to offend but feeling a bit confused.

“You don't think that's stupid?” he says. “You don't think after all the fine things people like you and I have had
access to, the clothes, the food, the wealth, that I'd want something more?”

“I think all those fine things we had came with too high a price,” I say. “I'd be happy never to see cloth-of-gold again in my life. Where would you want to farm? I mean, besides the Farm, obviously.”

He adjusts himself so that he's stretched out beside me, head propped up on one hand. “There's an old ruin of a place about five miles outside the Whistler's village. Ochre showed it to me once. It's a good spot for hiding the younger boys who've joined us, you know, a day or two before the Auction, when they won't be returning home after their work day. But I thought . . . I thought I could fix it up. Maybe Sil would sell me a couple of chickens and a goat. Get some seeds. It would be nice to work with the earth. And I like animals. I'd like a life of growing my own food, making my own things. Having a real home.”

Tears spring to my eyes, as I realize I'm not anywhere in this picture he has painted. “Oh,” I say in a raspy voice. “That sounds nice.”

“Are you crying?” Ash says, aghast.

“No,” I say too quickly, scrubbing the tears away.

I can almost hear his brain click. “Do you think I don't want you there with me?” he asks.

“No,” I say again, but it's a clear lie.

“Violet. I did not write you out of my life,” he says, “but I would never want to assume my plans would line up with yours. You have the right to choose what you want for yourself.”

“But what if that sounds nice to me?” I say. “What if
I want to help you fix up that old place? I bet I could convince Sil to give us Turnip, since she likes you better than Sil anyway. And I could have a chrysanthemum garden, like the one my mother used to have in our kitchen windowsill. I could use Earth to help you with planting crops, and Water, too, to tend them. I could use Fire to keep the house warm in the winter, and Air to keep us cool in the summer.”

I can see it, I can see it so clearly it's an actual ache in my chest. A little front porch with a wild garden blooming all around it. A white house with blue shutters. Ash and I working in the soil, ending each day tired and sweaty and covered in dirt, but happy. Having a place of our own.

When Ash speaks again, his voice is thick. “That sounds . . . perfect.”

“Of course, Raven will have to live nearby,” I say.

“And Garnet, too.”

“And Indi.”

“Sienna?”