“And yes,” she says. “It belonged to her. That’s why it was locked.”
“What?” I say.
“The study belonged to the Eyes,” she says.
A chill runs up my spine. From the way she says the Eyes, I know exactly who she’s talking about. She’s talking about this city’s version of a woman who kept people in a tower and took their blood.
“She… she had—” I’m struggling to figure out the words. “My apologies. I just didn’t know the Eyes had a… study.”
“It was where she tutored them,” she says. “She never hired any tutors. Always did it herself.”
“Tutored who?” I say.
The woman looks at me like I’m very dense. “Her children.”
My first thought is that a watercrea couldn’t have had children. My second thought is that I don’t know why I’m so sure about that, because apparently, I don’t know anything about watercreas at all.
“Were you here?” I say, my mouth dry. “Before… before the Heart was…?”
“Before the Eyes got sick?” she says. “Yes. I was a nursemaid for the twins. Now I’m their housekeeper. So you can understand why I don’t appreciate it when people pick locks to snoop around in their private quarters.”
“I’m very sorry,” I say with incredible humbleness, if I do say so myself. “I wish I wasn’t so nosy, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Anyway, I’ll just be on my way to the—”
Then I see the stain on the housekeeper’s white apron. It’s just a smear on the corner, but it’s unmistakable.
Blood.
It takes me a moment to realize that I’ve been staring at it for too long. The housekeeper has followed my gaze.
I wait for her to explain why there’s blood on her apron. She doesn’t.
“The washroom’s around the corner,” she says. “Off the parlor, next to the big white vase.”
She makes her way out of the hall. But not before she gives me a final, watchful look over her shoulder.
I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I left Ale alone. I grab the sketchbook as fast as possible and return to Verene’s bedroom. She’s sitting at the dressing table on the far side of the room, Ale hovering politely over her shoulder. She’s showing him her jewelry box. There’s a white rose tucked behind his ear, just like the one behind her ear.
I don’t know why the rose is the thing that feels like entirely too much, but it is. This girl is hiding something. She can’t just sit there with her sparkling eyes and her singsong voice and put flowers in my best friend’s hair.
“Oh, there you are,” Verene says as I join them. “We were just—”
I put the sketchbook on the dressing table. “The drawings.”
Verene flips through the sketches. I scanned through them earlier and discovered that they’re all hideously frilly.
She stops on what’s undoubtedly the ugliest one. “Oh, I like this. It’s so dramatic. That’s what I want. I want to look… inspirational.”
“You are inspirational,” I say.
I need this to go faster. I need to learn as much as I can about the water and where it’s supposedly coming from. And then I need to get out of here and plan. I can’t think with her in my face.
“Oh, thank you,” Verene says sweetly, like people tell her she’s inspirational all the time. “I suppose I mean that I want to look more inspirational than usual. I just… well, I just love the people of Iris so much. When they see me, I want them to feel like…”
She trails off, studying herself in the mirror. For a second, I catch myself studying her, too. I take in her radiant skin and her soft hair, and I think about the way I looked right before my wedding. I looked perfect. Almost as perfect as she does.
“I want them to feel like we can do anything,” she finishes. “Together.”
“That’s a wonderful sentiment,” I say. “There is one thing about the gowns—since they are rather large, we just want to make sure that they won’t get in the way of your business as the Heart. Could you just describe what sort of things you’ll need to do with your magic—”
She’s looking at me in the mirror. She’s looking at the handkerchief over my hair, like it’s the first time she’s really noticing it. And then, before I can stop it, she’s looking right into my eyes.
I remember what the watercrea said to me when she had me captive on Ale’s bedroom floor.
Once I see you, I can’t let you go.
Verene turns around.
“Wait,” she says, a note of realization in her voice.
I rip off my handkerchief and fling it over Verene’s face. For a split second, she’s very still. I’m very still. I moved so quickly that I surprised even myself.
She reaches up and starts to pull the handkerchief off.
No. She knows who I am now. She knows what I saw.
I can’t let her go.
So I lunge at her and knock her off her chair.
NINE
AS SOON AS WE HIT THE FLOOR, VERENE FIGHTS BACK. SHE’S not particularly strong, but she’s feisty. I throw myself on top of her, desperately trying to keep the handkerchief over her face, but she’s screaming and flailing and she has so many long limbs.
“Ale,” I say, “bring me the—”
“What are you doing, Emanuela?” Ale is hovering above us, engaged in a lot of hand-wringing. “Oh my God, what are you doing—”
“The sewing kit—” I grunt out.
“What?” he says.
“Bring me the sewing kit!” I demand. “And help me tie her up!”
“But why—”
“Ale, do it. Now.” My voice makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.
He brings me the sewing kit. I’ve managed to crush Verene’s arms under my knees, but she’s still kicking and screaming into her handkerchief.
“Hold her down,” I instruct. “Keep her quiet.”
“What?” he says. “I can’t—”
I put his hands over Verene’s face. He whimpers as I grab the sewing kit. In a frenzy, I dig out some ribbon that looks like it might get the job done. Together, we wrap the ribbon around Verene’s eyes to hold the handkerchief in place. We wrap her mouth. We wrap her wrists and her ankles. We push her into a sitting position against one of her bedposts, and we tie her waist to it. Then, and only then, do I feel like I can let go. I sit back, and Ale and I stare at the Heart of Iris, disheveled and blindfolded and wiggling against her bonds.
“You…” Ale’s voice is high and thin. “You just… Why did you…?”
“She was going to attack me,” I say.
“What?” he says.
“She had to be subdued,” I say.
I’m jittering. I feel like I could run across the whole of Iris right now. Simultaneously, somehow, I feel like I might need to go vomit.
I let myself get so close to her. She was looking right into my eyes.
“Emanuela,” Ale says. “She’s… she’s the most important girl in this city.”