The Black Key (20 page)

G
ARNET SLAMS THE ACCELERATOR DOWN AND WE PEEL
through the streets.

The palaces whip by until we are in the forest, a blur of greens and browns, then past the topiary, until finally, he pulls up in front of the fountain of trumpeting boys.

The doors of the Royal Palace are open. When we get inside, the halls are empty.

“I'll bet my entire inheritance she's gone to the throne room,” Garnet says.

“Which way?” I ask, and he takes off down the opulent main hallway. We pass the ballroom where I played cello at the Exetor's Ball, and I glimpse the garden where I spoke to Ash in the gazebo that same night, before we make a sharp left.

The sound of voices stops us in our tracks. Garnet holds up a hand and we creep to the end of the hall, the plush carpet muffling our footsteps. He peers around the corner, then pulls his head back quickly.

“Seven Reg,” he mouths. Ash withdraws his sword as Garnet unholsters his gun. Raven crouches into a fighting stance. I join with Air, and for one second, I allow myself to revel in the blissful freedom of the element.

Then I focus it, calling the wind to me from the hundred halls in this palace, and it comes whistling and shrieking. Garnet, Ash, and Raven whirl around the corner as I send it flying at the Regimentals.

What happens next is a blur. Crunches and shouts and thuds, Ash's sword sings through the air, guns go off, and all the while I fill the room with wind so fierce and biting it makes my own eyes burn and water.

When I hear Ash shout, “Stop!” I release my hold on the element and everything settles. Regimentals are splayed out everywhere, some dead, some only unconscious. The room has an arched ceiling painted with murals depicting the four seasons, and stained-glass windows as tall as Garnet, their jewel tones spilling across the black-and-white tile floor. In the center of the room is a dais on which sit two immense, opulent thrones. The arms are scaled and end in snake heads with rubies for eyes. Enormous golden wings spread out from either side of each throne, and their seats are covered in crimson velvet.

The Duchess sits in one, her skirts tangled about her legs, looking utterly nonplussed at this latest development. Her fingers grip the snakes like claws when she sees her son.

“Garnet?” she gasps. Hazel is on the floor beside her,
still leashed. Her face lights up when she sees me. Cora and Carnelian are behind her—Cora gapes at Garnet, but Carnelian only has eyes for Ash.

“Hello, Mother,” he says, as if they've just sat down to breakfast. “Not your typical Auction Day, is it?”

“You . . . you're with
them
?” The Duchess spits out the word. Her gaze lands on Raven, then Ash, then me. “Fighting with whores and servants?”

“You mean fighting alongside human beings?” Garnet says. “Yes, Mother. I am.”

The Duchess sneers. “I shouldn't be surprised. You're more like your father than you ever were like me.”

Garnet pretends to consider for a moment. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

“You'd rather be a weakling?”

“Better a weakling than a murderer,” I say, stepping forward.

The Duchess stands and I see she holds a dagger in one hand, presumably the same one the Exetor gave her. Its handle is studded with gemstones, its blade engraved in swirling lines of silver. “I will not suffer a mere lady-in-waiting to speak to me in such a manner. When this ridiculous rebellion is over, I will have your tongue cut out. I will have your head on a spike. I will—”

“You will have nothing,” I say, walking forward slowly. “You have no power in this city. And I am no
mere lady-in-waiting
.”

I will not be afraid of her anymore.

And she will see me for who I truly am.

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 blond to black. My nose aches as it returns to its normal size, my forehead shrinking. I save my eyes for last. They burn like hot embers sizzling in my skull, but I force myself to keep them open while they revert back to their natural violet. I want to see the Duchess's face as she realizes it's me.

I am not disappointed.

Her mouth falls open. The dagger clatters to the floor, just out of Hazel's reach—she makes a grab for it but the chain holds her back. The Duchess snatches the dagger away and grabs Hazel by the hair, yanking her upright and pressing the blade against her throat.

“Stay back,” she says.

“Violet,” Hazel croaks.

“You will
not
hurt her,” I hiss. I consider joining with Air and throwing the Duchess off the dais, but that could end in Hazel with her throat cut.

“So,” the Duchess says, looking more comfortable now that she's got my sister's life to hold over me, “you have returned. I wondered if you would. That's part of the reason I took her in the first place. I thought perhaps you might get caught trying to save her.” She raises one eyebrow. “You disguised yourself well, I'll give you that.”

Ash, Raven, and Garnet have formed a loose half circle around me. Cora watches my every step eagerly, waiting for her own revenge.

“And the rest of the reason?” I ask.

The Duchess shrugs. “Well, I was hoping she'd have your abilities, of course, but it became evident rather quickly that
she was not the surrogate you were. A child was not possible.” Something flickers in her eyes—regret maybe?—but it vanishes before I can make sense of it.

She pulls Hazel's head back farther. “When you escaped with the whore, I thought I was finished. I thought I would never get the thing I truly wanted, for my daughter to rule as I should have. But . . . what is that quaint saying you have in the lower circles? When all you have left is lemons, make lemonade? I saw an opportunity. Why give a child the life that should have been mine? The Electress is so simple and stupid, so easy to manipulate. Why not use that to my advantage? After all, she did such a lovely job of shouting to anyone and everyone in the Jewel about how she hated me, how she did not wish a match with my House. She was jealous. Jealousy is a petty emotion. It pollutes the mind. It makes you rash. Because she had everything and she did not
appreciate it
. Even worse, she did not deserve it in the first place.”

“So you stole my sister and went over the Electress's head to make a match with the Exetor?”

“Well deduced,” the Duchess says with a sneer. “And once Onyx realized there was a chance to be together again . . . well, we would do anything for each other. Even kill his Bank-trash wife. That is the depth of our love.”

“Where is he, then?” I ask, gesturing around. “It looks like he's abandoned you.”

“Oh no,” the Duchess says. “He will never abandon me again.”

Something in her tone makes me uncomfortable. Cora looks unnerved as well—she glances about the room, but it's empty except for the eight of us.

“But he did once,” I say, trying to find a weak spot. My eyes flicker to the dagger still pressed to Hazel's neck. “He left you. He married the Electress.”

“Don't speak as if you know anything about him,” the Duchess snaps. “He never chose to leave me. We were forced apart.” She raises her head proudly. “We love each other. More than any two people have ever loved before. We made something beautiful together and they took it, they ripped it from me even as I begged them not to. They called it a monster, the life that was growing inside me.” There is a wild look in her eyes. “It's not fair!” she cries. “You poor, stupid, useless surrogates can bear a child and I cannot.”

I am stunned. The Duchess was
pregnant
? Royal women are sterilized upon marriage, but clearly, the Duchess and Exetor slept together before that. I hear a gasp from Garnet. Even Cora seems shocked. It would have ruined the Duchess's House forever if the news got out.

Her eyes are bright with tears even as her hands shake with anger. A thick drop of blood oozes from the point of the blade and drips down Hazel's neck.

“What a little fool I was,” the Duchess whispers. “To think they'd let me keep it.”

For a moment, I can see her, the Duchess, young and in love. Who might she have grown into, had things gone differently?

“I'm sorry that happened to you,” I say. Carnelian tears her eyes away from Ash to give me a shocked look. It exactly mirrors the expression on the Duchess's face, and for the first time since I've known them, I can see that they are related.

The Duchess's shock melts away to scorn. “I don't need your pity,” she says. “Nor do I want it.”

“That's the difference between us,” I say. “You see pity. You see weakness. I see compassion. I see strength. But when
you
suffer, you feel you must make others suffer around you. You allowed this tragedy to turn you into something cold and cruel. You murdered Dahlia, a girl whose name you didn't even know, who had done nothing to you. You poisoned her out of spite. You killed Annabelle for no reason except to punish me. You took away a beautiful life on a whim, to make a point. You might have become something great, Pearl,” I say, taking a note from Raven's book and addressing the Duchess as an equal, “and instead you are just another petty, sniping royal.”

“She is infinitely more than that,” a low voice says. The Exetor steps out of the shadows as his guard files into the room, marching in unison, their red jackets matching the seats of the thrones.

“Onyx,” the Duchess says with relief. “I was wondering where you were.”

No less than twenty Regimentals surround us, all carrying rifles.

We are trapped.

T
HE
E
XETOR SAUNTERS OVER TO KISS THE
D
UCHESS ON
the cheek, ignoring Hazel struggling between them.

“I was going to send these men out into the city,” he says, “but then I heard voices and thought I should check on you.”

“I'm so glad you did, my darling. You remember my old surrogate, 197. She's come back to rescue her sister.”

“Just as you suspected,” the Exetor says. His gaze lands on Garnet. “What is he doing here?”

“He's with them,” the Duchess says. “Always such a disappointment.”

The Exetor traces the line of the Duchess's jaw with a finger. “You deserved better,” he says.

They don't even look at us. Garnet's lone pistol is nothing against all those rifles. Neither is Ash's sword.

“So,” the Duchess says, turning to me, “how long were you working with the eunuch?”

My brain is spinning furiously, trying to come up with a solution to get us out of this. The best thing to do is keep her talking while I figure out a plan.

“He had a name,” I say.

“I'm fully aware of Lucien's name, I simply don't—”

“He had a name and it wasn't Lucien. Do you even understand why all of this is happening?” I gesture out a window depicting a sunset in a blaze of color. “Can you even conceive of what you have done to the people of this city? To the island itself?”

The Duchess's smile is icy. “You are a foolish little girl. This island would be nothing without us. We made it great. We created something where there was nothing before.”

“There wasn't nothing,” I say. “There were people here, and your ancestors, the ones you are so proud of, killed them all. Or at least, they thought they did.”

The Duchess stiffens and the Exetor looks confused.

“What is she talking about?” he asks.

“I have no idea,” the Duchess replies.

It's my turn to smile. “What did you think Lucien was doing in your library? Catching up on royal history? You people. You haven't changed at all. Taking whatever you want. Did you really think you killed all the Paladin?”

“All the what?” Carnelian asks, but no one answers her.

“How do you know about that?” the Duchess hisses.

“Because I am one of them,” I say. “Who do you think
brought that wall down? You have no idea what I'm capable of.”

“Prove it, then.” The Duchess yanks Hazel's head back farther so that she cries out in pain. “All I've seen from you thus far is a little bit of wind. Prove your strength. Kill me now, if you can.”

I think about it. I think about the ceiling collapsing on her head, Air snapping her neck, drowning her in the water I can sense in a garden just outside.

But I am not the Duchess. I do not solve my problems the way she does, with violence and blood.

“I could,” I say carefully, “but I won't.”

The Duchess laughs, a high, echoing laugh.
“I could but I won't,”
she says, mimicking me. “Oh, that is rich.”

The Exetor joins in. Cora is livid. She takes a step forward.

“You promised you would kill her!” she cries.

“I'm sorry,” I say, at the same time the Duchess says, “I beg your pardon?”

“You murdered my daughter,” Cora cries, whirling around to face her mistress. “Did you think I wouldn't care? Did you honestly believe I felt nothing for her?”

The Duchess levels Cora with one look. The lady-in-waiting withers. “I should have drowned that runt when she was born,” the Duchess says. “You were lucky you got to know her at all.”

“Can you even hear yourself, Mother?” Garnet says. “Annabelle was . . . she was the best person in that entire palace. She was wholly innocent. She was
good.
”

“No one is wholly innocent,” the Duchess says. “If you
believe that, you are even more stupid than I thought.” Her eyes flash to something behind me. “Let's start with the companion, shall we?”

We have all been so focused on what's in front of us, that none of us have looked back. I whirl around now, just as three of the Exetor's guard descend on Ash, two grabbing his arms and throwing his sword aside as another holds a gun to his temple.

“No!” Carnelian and I scream together.

The Regimental holding the gun has a broad, ugly face and a gold tooth that glints at me when he smiles. He has a brutish look, as if he enjoys hurting people.

Ash keeps his eyes trained on mine and mouths one word.
Hazel.

I know what he means but I can't. I can't make that choice. His eyes drink me in as if it's the last time. As if he'll never see me again.

“Take me!” Carnelian offers. “Kill me instead. Please! Just don't hurt him.”

It is such a brave statement. I tear my gaze away from Ash to look at her face, stricken with fear but sincere. She would truly die for Ash. I can't believe I once thought her annoying, small-minded. I hated her for all the wrong reasons.

“Carnelian, stop, you're embarrassing yourself.” The Duchess doesn't even spare her niece a glance. She looks gleeful at this turn of events. More blood drips down Hazel's neck. “What could anyone possibly gain from that? Alive or dead, you are nothing to me. This companion risked his own life to be with a surrogate. Do you see that? He
does
not love you
. Even your own mother preferred death to your company. What will it take for you to grasp the concept that
no one wants you
?”

Even I feel the sting of her words, how they cut right to Carnelian's core, a place that has been slashed by grief and cruelty a hundred times over.

Quick as lightning, I join with Air. It's like it's been waiting for my call.

The Duchess gives me one last disdainful glance. “Kill them all,” she says in a bored tone, but I am ready and I will not let her hurt me or my friends.

The rifles go off almost in unison, filling the room with sharp pops.

You can do this,
Lucien whispers in my ear.
I believe in you.

I feel every single bullet slicing through the air in this room and I sweep them upward, circling them around the ceiling like a swarm of flies.

Hazel slams her foot down on the Duchess's instep, causing the Duchess to let out a strangled howl and release her. The dagger falls off the dais.

I raise my hands. The Regimentals are all staring at the bullets in a daze of wonder and confusion. Slicing my hands through the air, I send the bullets flying back toward their owners, dropping the Regimentals one by one. One I send through the chain binding my sister to the Duchess—it snaps in two.

I sense, rather than see, the ugly Regimental fire at me. I hear Ash cry out, and then there's a crunch behind me, and I send the bullet shooting away from me, not caring where
it lands, as Hazel plummets into my arms.

“You're safe now,” I say as she sobs against my shoulder. “I've got you. You're safe.”

“NO!” The scream that issues from the Duchess's throat is wild, guttural, like the cry of a dying animal. And I see why—the last bullet I sent astray went right through the Exetor's chest.

She gathers him up in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Onyx, no, no, please . . .”

Blood trickles from his mouth. “Pearl,” he says, reaching up to touch her cheek. Then his hand falls, limp and lifeless, and his head rolls to one side. The Duchess falls over him, clutching his body. Then her head whips up.

“I will kill you slowly for this,” she says. She lays the Exetor gently on the floor and rises to face me. I push Hazel behind my back and prepare to join with Earth, to open up the ground beneath her feet. “Do you understand me? I will ki—”

Then she gasps, her back arching. A horrible, choking sound comes out of her throat. Red begins to seep through her blue dress, staining it, changing its color like an Augury.

Carnelian stands behind her. In one swift movement, she pulls the dagger out of the Duchess's back and holds it up triumphantly. She must have picked it up when the Duchess dropped it.

“You're such a disappointment, Carnelian,” Carnelian hisses in a mockery of the Duchess's voice, stabbing the dagger into her back again. “No one cares what you have to say, Carnelian.” The dagger hits its mark for a third time. “No one loves you, no one loves you . . .” She stabs the Duchess
again and again and I can only watch, stunned and horrified.

The Duchess falls to the floor beside the Exetor. Carnelian looks like she's about to keep stabbing her, when Ash rushes over. He holds her wrist gently. Carnelian is shaking.

“It's all right,” he murmurs. “You can let it go now. She's gone. It's all right.”

She blinks and looks at him. “She . . . she was so . . . I had to . . .”

“I know,” he says. The dagger clatters to the floor. She falls into him, sobbing, and he holds her tight. Our eyes meet over the crown of her head. The scene does not make me jealous as it once would.

Hazel is gripping my arm and I turn to face her.

“Let's get this stuff off of you,” I say. Raven helps me with the leash and I rip the veil off her face. Garnet has gone over to help Cora. Hazel steps out of her high heels so she is her normal height again and together we unstrap the fake belly from over her stomach. She kicks it away viciously.

“Is it over?” she asks.

“It's over,” I say. She collapses into me and we hold each other tight.

“All those things you did,” she says, pulling away to look up at me. “With the wind and the bullets and . . .” She gazes around the room, dazed. “You told me you could do things but . . .”

“You can do those things, too,” I say.

Hazel blinks. “I can?”

I smile. “This is Raven,” I say. “She's my best friend. She can show you, if you want.”

“You want me to take her to the cliff now?” Raven asks.

“What?” Hazel asks.

“Maybe not right this second,” I say. “Maybe it's too soon. Hazel needs to rest. She—”

“I've been doing nothing but rest for months,” Hazel says, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest. “Show me whatever it is. I can handle it.”

My chest swells with pride. “I know you can,” I say. “Come on.”

We leave the throne room and exit out into a garden filled with butterflies and rosebushes. The sun is molten gold in a perfect blue sky. I feel an overwhelming sense of exuberance. We did it.

Raven grips my hand as I take Hazel's.

“What are we doing?” she asks.

“We're going to show you who you really are,” I say. I've said it so many times before, at Southgate, Westgate, at all the holding facilities. I've given girls something to believe in, showed them what they were capable of.

But it's never meant as much to me as it does now.

The cliff is perfect when we arrive.

The sky mirrors our sky, cloudless and bright blue. The air is warm and bees buzz lazily around the monument. The trees are lush and green, and the gentle roar of the ocean is soothing below. How I long to see the true ocean.

I turn to my sister. She stares around, captivated by the beauty and wonder of this place. Her violet eyes are filled with awe.

I sigh.

Change her back,
I whisper silently to this space, to my
ancestors who linger just beyond, in a place between living and dead.
Please.

Change her back,
Raven whispers beside me. Our pleas drift into the air and swirl around the silvery blue monument and it's as if I can hear a hundred voices taking up the cry.

Change her back, change her back . . .

Hazel has run to the edge of the cliff, gazing out across the ocean. Suddenly, she grabs her face, dropping to her knees. I start to run toward her but Raven stops me, keeping a tight grip on my hand. Hazel rocks back and forth for a few moments, then goes still.

When she turns back to me, my heart leaps to my throat, and if I could make a sound, cry out in this place, I would.

The magic of this cliff has worked. The Paladin have returned her to who she once was. Whatever the doctor did was no match for the power that exists here.

Hazel's face is the one I remember, the one I grew up with. Her eyes are back to their original color, her nose and mouth and cheeks all the same as they used to be. She stares the same wide-eyed stare I've seen on the faces of so many girls now. Raven and I join her at the edge of the cliff. We look out at the ocean, letting the salty tang fill our nostrils, and I feel a sense of wonder, of curiosity. I feel as if I am a very small part of something so large, it cannot be contained in one island, one city.

I wonder what is out there.

Me too,
Raven thinks.
Want to find out?

Yes,
I think back.
But there is something I have to do first.