“I’m not going to forget what you did to me and my city,” she says. “I’m never going to forget. You can pretend that you want to find something better, but I know just what sort of person you are.”
I back up until I hit the cold wall. It brings me abruptly back to myself.
I know what sort of person I am, too. I’m a girl who’s going to save the cities that still need to be saved. I’m a girl who’s going to turn them upside down and change the things that need to be changed. I’m a girl who’s going to live forever.
I cross my arms. Obviously, Verene can’t see me, but I need to know that I look effortless and completely unaffected by her and her sweet-smelling shirt.
“Fine,” I say. “It’s not like I need you and your sanctimonious, bothersome prattling. You’ll slow me down. In fact, I’d rather we didn’t work together.”
“Fine,” she says.
“I’ll just figure out how to break out of this prison on my own,” I say.
For a long moment, she’s quiet, and the challenge hangs in the air.
“Not if I figure it out first,” she says.
I have no way of knowing for sure, but I swear I can hear her smiling.
And that’s… perfect.
EPILOGUE
THE CITY OF IRIS IS QUIET.
Overhead, the veil is the blazing red of midday, and clustered below are the white manors. The beautiful plants the Circles of Iris used to display on the sides of their houses—each family quietly judging and trying to outdo the other—are gone. Now, the city is blank and dry.
But the streets are full. The people have all emerged. There are groups in every intersection, huddled around the white marble fountains. There are vases and buckets and jugs clutched in their hands. They’re waiting.
For almost a thousand years, the people of Iris had a mysterious ruler who put them in a tower and took their blood. Then, in a two-year daze that doesn’t feel real to anyone anymore, they had a girl in a white gown who gave them everything they ever wanted.
Now, they have this. Every day, at noon, the fountains turn on, just like they used to. But this time, they only run for five minutes.
They don’t know how it’s happening. It’s been a whole month, and no one has seen the girl in the white gown. Sometimes people claim that they saw someone who looks suspiciously like her brother. A lady in the Circle du Tasse insists that she peeked out her window at night and spotted him lurking around one of the fountains. A kitchen maid in the Circle du Richard is pretty sure he was the one who snuck in and stole the bread she’d just finished baking. But they haven’t made an effort to chase him down. They don’t want to get too close to the son of the Eyes. After all, he and his sister hardly ever left the cathedral, and no one has any idea what went on in there.
The cathedral has been reduced to a crumbling charred ruin. The banner that was hanging from the balcony, showing a drawing of the eight cities that nobody really understood, has turned to ash.
Some bold people went into the catacombs, looking for answers. None of them ever returned. The rest decided to stay in their homes. They decided to survive, the way they always have. They don’t have much, but at least they have water.
And right now, they’re just waiting for it.
It’s almost time. The people standing around the empty fountains start to jostle one another, subtly. They pretend that there’s an order to things. Each family is allowed a certain number of people at the front. But really, the moment the water appears, it’s chaos.
The people of Iris are so busy waiting that they don’t notice what’s happening up above.
The brilliant red of the veil is shifting and growing. It almost seems like the veil is getting closer to the city. And closer.
Then it stops. And everything is still, like it never even happened.
With a rush and a gurgle, the fountains of Iris come to life. No one was looking at the veil. No one saw.
And far below the cities, at the very bottom of the catacombs, a girl has just climbed out of a prison.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have no one to acknowledge. I did this all myself, and frankly, you all should acknowledge me for letting you read it.
That’s what Emanuela would say if given the chance to write this section. I, her author, am extremely humble, and in my humbleness, I need to thank all of the following:
Thank you to my agent, Carrie Pestritto. You saw something in this gremlin of a book that no one else did, and for that, I am forever grateful. Thanks also to Samantha Fabien, Elana Roth Parker, Laura Dail, and Tamar Rydzinski for your support and behind-the-scenes work through the wild ride that has been taking this story from “Word document hiding on my computer” to “actual book on the shelves.”
Thank you to my editor, Alexandra Hightower, for taking me on with such poise and enthusiasm. I can sleep at night knowing I’ve landed in such great hands. Thank you also to the whole team at Little, Brown, including but not limited to: Alvina Ling, Katie Boni, Bill Grace, Savannah Kennelly, Victoria Stapleton, and Sasha Illingworth. I’m so grateful for your hard work and so happy to be a part of the LBYR family. And thank you to Billelis for the coolest cover I’ve ever laid eyes on.
To Patrice Caldwell: thank you for being the “yes” that every author dreams of. To Hannah Allaman: thank you for understanding this book better than I do. I’ve been so fortunate to have so many champions, and it was an honor to work with you both. Thank you also to the other members of the Disney team who saw this book early in life, especially Jody Corbett, for making sure I described eyeballs correctly, and Tyler Nevins, for the beautiful designs.
A thousand thanks go out to my unruly coven of writer friends. When I first met you over the Internet, I was skeptical. So far, none of you have turned out to be catfishes. But there’s still time. Thanks to Maddy Colis, Ashley Burdin, Alexis Castellanos, Kat Cho, Amanda Foody, Tara Sim, Claribel Ortega, Melody Simpson, Ella Dyson, Meg Kohlmann, Axie Oh, Amanda Haas, Erin Bay, Akshaya Raman, Katy Rose Pool, Janella Angeles, and Christine Lynn Herman. To Ella, Meg, and Amanda: your early enthusiasm kept me going. I drank it up like a vampire. To Christine and Tara: thanks for the memes—I mean, emotional support. To Erin: thanks for the emojis. To Katy: thanks for arguing with me about pedantic things and feeding my Ravenclaw soul. To Janella: thanks for the solidarity and Shrek memes (the two food groups). To Akshaya: thanks for enduring the text meltdowns and for the formal Skype interview that led me to this group in the first place. I’m so glad I picked up that call.
And thanks to all of you for teaching me how to use a gas stove.
To Jessica Rubinkowski, Julie C. Dao, Rebecca Caprara, Kati Gardner, Kevin van Whye, Austin Gilkeson, Heather Kaczynski, Jordan Villegas—thank you for the emails and so much more. No author should go through publishing alone. Thank you for making sure I didn’t.
So many thanks also to Christine Calella, Malika Maya, Emily A. Duncan, Isabel Sterling, Sadie Blach, Kalyn Josephson, and Rosiee Thor. Thank you for your support. You are all shining stars. That sounded fake. It’s not.
Thanks to my family, and especially my parents, for gamely going along with… all of this. Also, thanks for giving me the Little Shop of Horrors soundtrack at a formative age. Virtmo.