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.”