I trace the path between Occhia and Iris.
“Does no one know about this?” Ale’s voice is hushed. “Do the other watercreas know?”
There’s a tiny dot behind the cathedral—a tower—in every city. Except Iris.
There are six other cities. I can’t quite wrap my head around what it means. I can’t quite comprehend the fact that for my entire life, I thought Occhia was all alone, a tiny bubble inside the veil, and I was so wrong.
There are six other cities, and no one in them knows my name. No one in them knows what I have to offer. But they could.
“What do you think these marks mean?” Ale touches the outside of one of the circles.
Somebody—Theo, I would assume—has been making small tick marks next to each city. Again, Iris is the only exception. I consider.
“The water,” I guess. “He marks it off every time they steal. And they go in a circle. So each city takes a turn, and each city has time to recover.”
“They have so much water here,” Ale says. “They’re taking more than they need. Why?”
“Because they can,” I say.
“Don’t they ever think about what it does to us?” he says.
“Obviously not,” I say.
This is the reason why Occhia’s underground well is empty. Verene and Theo must have stolen the last of our water right before our watercrea disappeared. She didn’t have time to replace it. My people are panicking and rioting and afraid so that the people here can splash around in happiness and comfort.
“The rulers of these other cities…” Ale says. “The other… watercreas. They must notice when their water gets stolen. Why haven’t they stopped it?”
“They must not know how,” I say.
“Maybe they’ve tried, but they can’t,” Ale says. “If Verene and Theo were born with this, like their mamma was born with her magic…”
A cold dread is creeping down my spine. There are six other rulers out there who have a thousand years’ worth of power and knowledge. If they knew how to get their water back, they would have done it already.
I know how to fight against people. I know how to look for weaknesses in humans. But that thing we saw in the catacombs wasn’t human. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before.
“But we have to figure out a way,” Ale says.
“What?” I say.
“We have to figure out a way to stop them,” he says. “To stop that thing. If we stop it, then we can use the catacombs to get home. And we’ll have helped the other six cities. They’ll be free again. So maybe, in return, we could ask them each to give us a little bit of their water…”
And Occhia will be saved.
And Verene will be destroyed. And I’ll be the savior of my city. I’ll be the one with the power.
“Emanuela.” Ale is eyeing me nervously. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that you’re brilliant for finding this,” I say.
He beams.
We slip out of the hedges, and I lead us in a winding path, following the noise to the garden party. We find everyone in a large clearing. At the center—of course—is a statue of Verene. This one has been lovingly draped in chains of white roses. Below her, water is spilling out into an enormous pool. It’s as wide as a manor and filled with people, and looking at it makes my stomach churn.
“Emanuela,” Ale whispers as we peer in. “Why are we here?”
“We need food,” I say. “They must have food. And…”
I trail off as I take another look around the clearing. I’ve just comprehended the fact that most of the people lolling on the grass and playing around in the fountain are rather… undressed.
I straighten out my wet skirts, undaunted. I grab Ale’s hand and pull him into the party, to his obvious distress. We meander through the din of shrieking and splashing like we belong.
“Everyone is going to notice us—” he says.
“If you’re confident enough, people only notice what you want them to notice. How many times do I have to tell you this, Alessandro? Besides, they’re all drunk. Can’t you smell it?”
I’ve already casually bent down and scooped up a basket someone was kind enough to leave on the grass. It contains a bundle of neatly cut fruits with a jar of chocolate spread and loaves of savory cakes studded with olives. I hand a cake to Ale. I spot a promising pile of clothes near the edge of the fountain and approach, because some disguises could come in handy. I bend down and quickly shove it all into my basket. As I close it up, I accidentally make eye contact with a girl in a chemise who’s sitting on the edge of the fountain. I continue to look confident. Extraordinarily confident. She turns away, unconcerned.
I’ve never seen another girl in nothing but a chemise before. I’m used to being the most scandalously dressed one in the room.
I stand up. It’s very hot in this garden. “Let’s go, Ale. Ale? Where did you—”
He’s hovering behind me. He’s eating his cake, slowly, and gaping at something in the fountain. I follow his gaze to see two boys getting very intimate with each other’s faces. They’re not the only people in the pool engaging in such… activities.
I mean, we have debauchery in Occhia. It’s not this extravagant, but we have it. Occhians who follow the rules—accepting the spouse their family chooses and promising to bear children—are given some unspoken freedom in that regard. I knew about it. I had followers who told me who was sneaking off to wine cellars together after a few too many drinks at a dinner party.
No one ever asked me to sneak off to a wine cellar. They were intimidated, of course.
I wave my hand pointedly in front of Ale’s face. He jumps.
“I wasn’t—” he says.
“Of course not,” I say. “You don’t sound guilty at all. Let’s go before someone notices that I’m stealing their basket.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he says.
He’s staring at the boys again.
I sidle closer. “If you ask nicely, they might let you smell their handkerchiefs.”
“I—” He startles again. “I don’t want to smell every single boy’s handkerchief, Emanuela! Just because—”
The boys glance over at us. In true Ale fashion, Ale drops his cake and flees. I catch up to him at the entrance to the clearing, where he’s withering away from embarrassment.
“Here, you absolute fiasco.” I give him another cake. “Now we need to—”
Then the cathedral bells ring out.
Ale and I both go still. The entire party goes still.
The bells chime again.
And again.
And again.
And then, everyone is running. They abandon their wine and clamber out of the fountain, dripping wet, and they charge at the entrance to the clearing—at us.
“Don’t just stand there!” A girl stumbling over the bottom of her soaked gown reaches us first and shoves at me. “Remember the last time we were summoned like this?”
The cathedral bells are still chiming.
So the Heart of Iris wants to speak to her people. I wonder what this could possibly be about.
Ale and I melt into the crowd that’s pushing into the cathedral square, which is already full. It’s impressive how quickly the city has assembled. Manor doors have been left open. People are in their nightclothes. The air is tense, and everyone is whispering, their eyes on the cathedral.