Once An Eve Novel

sense?”
    The question hovered in the air between us. I remembered my first days in Califia, how I’d watched the shadowy city over the bridge, imagining what Caleb was doing there, if he’d gotten in contact with the Trail. The nightmares came soon after: Caleb standing by the water, blood running down his leg, turning the entire bay a rancid purple. “I do,” I said. “So many things can go wrong.”
    Charles stared into the water. “See all of those?” he asked, pointing at the pebbles. “They made this into a memorial of sorts. People would bring stones here and throw them into the fountain, one for every loved one they lost in the plague.”
    He walked over to the shrubs that lined the conservatory building and plucked several tiny rocks from the ground beneath, rubbing the dirt off with his fingers. “Do you want a few?” he asked, offering them to me.
    “Just one.” I took the smooth brown stone in my hand. It was shaped like an almond—one side slightly wider than the other. I ran my fingers over it, wondering what my mother would’ve thought if she knew I was standing here, inside the new capital, imprisoned by the man she’d fallen in love with so many years before. I could nearly see her face, smell the mint balm she always smeared on her lips, leaving slippery smudges on my cheeks when she kissed me. I let the pebble slip through my fingers into the water below. It settled at the bottom, disappearing among the others, the surface still rippling in its wake.
    We stood in silence for a minute. The wind whipped around us, a fleeting relief from the heat. Two older women approached the edge of the fountain, clutching worn photos in their hands. They watched as others lined up along the stone ledge. “What exactly is everyone waiting for?” I asked.
    “You’ll see …,” Charles said. He checked his watch. “In three … two … one …” Music sounded on the main road. Everyone stepped back. Water burst through the surface of the pool and rocketed toward the sky. It rose and rose and rose, nearly twenty feet in the air. The little boy stood up on the stone ledge and clapped. Charles’s face was lit up like a child’s. He hooted loudly, throwing his fist in the air, a sight that made even the soldiers laugh.
    The wind shifted, blowing the spray at us and soaking the front of my dress. The cold water felt good on my skin. I closed my eyes, the claps and cheers swelling around me, and enjoyed those last few moments away from the Palace.

twenty
     
    CLARA AND I STARTED UP THE LONG SPIRAL ESCALATORS TO the gallery on the second-floor mezzanine. I still hadn’t gotten used to the moving metal stairs; I never knew whether to climb them or just stand there, holding the rail and gliding along. Light streamed in from the atrium above us. I took in the ceiling murals and the giant statues of robed women, the towering marble pillars, the horse statue below, leaping in midair, the fountains that shot up from still, turquoise pools. In some horrible way, the Palace was just as Pip had always imagined it—a gleaming model of perfection.
    I kept my eyes on the scenery, trying to pretend I was alone. This morning, the King had suggested Clara take me on a tour of the art gallery. He said it would be nice for us to spend time together so I could get to know my cousin. I knew neither statement was true but I obliged, hoping it would make me seem happy with my place in the Palace. Like a girl with no secrets.
    “How was your date with Charles?” Clara asked after a long while. The soldier always trailing just a few steps behind us stepped off the escalator.
    “It wasn’t a date,” I said, an edge to my voice. I remembered that term from School; the Teachers had referred to it as part of the courtship period. They told us men sometimes acted like gentleman before revealing their true intentions.
    We strode past the low railing. Below us shoppers wandered through the atrium, occasionally glancing up to see where we were headed. Above the gallery’s entrance was a massive screen that changed every few seconds. First was an advertisement for the new global marketplace, OPENING THIS WEEK! Then it switched to a picture from yesterday’s paper, of me in the back of a car with the caption: PRINCESS GENEVIEVE’S BMW CONVERTIBLE RESTORED BY GERRARD’S MOTORS: PROVIDING CUSTOM RESTORATION AND DISPLAY OF AUTOMOBILES SINCE 2035 .
    “You know, you go around acting all annoyed, when you’re the Princess