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.