Rise An Eve Novel

me back, then leaned over him, listening to his breathing. “You can come back later today,” he said, gesturing to the door.
    I just stood there, watching the way my father’s feet tensed, his toes pointed to the ceiling, one knee raised as he tried to brace himself against the pain. He let out a low, rattling breath, then relaxed a little, his eyes finding their way to me. “Don’t worry, Genevieve.” When he smiled it looked like he was trying not to cry. “It will pass.”
    I stared at the floor, at the swirling pattern in the carpet, the thin sliver of light moving with the curtain. I thought of my mother. Would she be disgusted with me now, her daughter who’d done these things to someone she had loved? No matter how many deaths he was responsible for, hadn’t I now done the same thing? Was I no better?
    I turned to go, pausing in the doorway as he coughed, flinching at each of the wet, choked gasps. It was too late. It was done. Now I only hoped he wouldn’t have to stay like this, half alive, for much longer. Let it be quick , I said, speaking to some nameless, faceless force, like all those prayers I’d heard uttered at the memorials. Let it end.

eight
    THE DAY WAS FADING. THE SKY SPREAD OUT ABOVE US, A PALE orange awning with only a faint, passing cloud. I fingered a china teacup, pressing the thin handle between my fingers. It was Clara who’d wanted to come here. After I’d avoided her all day, she’d found me in the Palace gallery and insisted we go for a walk down the main road. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, not as we passed the old Venetian gardens or the latest hotel that had been converted to apartments. She waited, her steps in time with mine, but it wasn’t until we reached the rooftop restaurant at the end of the road that either of us found the courage to speak.
    “Just tell me,” Clara whispered. She set her hand on top of mine and left it there. “Did you have anything to do with what happened to your father? They say he’s getting worse.”
    I studied her bloodred polish, the thumbnail that was chipped in the corner. The tables surrounding us were empty, but nearly fifty people were still on the roof, lingering after lunch. An older man with frizzy gray hair sat a few yards away, occasionally glancing at us, then back to his newspaper. “I was upset yesterday.” I shrugged. “You shouldn’t have seen what you did.”
    She sat forward, both elbows on the table, and rested her face in her hands. “I don’t know what else I need to do for you to trust me. I’ve kept every one of your secrets.”
    I watched the two soldiers behind her. They’d followed us here and were now sitting at a table in the corner of the restaurant, eating the tiny triangular sandwiches in one bite. “It’s not that,” I said quietly. “I just can’t.”
    The waitress, an older woman with scratched glasses, paused to refill our cups. We were quiet while she stood there, hovering over us. Every so often people turned from their plates to see what we were doing. We looked comically overdressed for late-afternoon tea, Clara in a gown that spread out at the waist, her ornate ruby earrings nearly touching her shoulders. On Alina’s insistence my hair was done in curls, a bundle of them pinned at the nape of my neck. My navy gown was sheer at the top, the mesh sleeves tight around my arms, providing little relief from the growing cold. Clara didn’t look at me, instead waiting until the woman started back across the roof.
    She turned away from the rest of the tables, staring out over the City, careful so no one would see her face. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you.” She said it as a statement, not a question, her expression unsteady.
    “I can’t do this now . . .” I started, but my voice trailed off as I watched her. She bit down hard on one of her nails, turning it sideways, as if she’d rip it off.
    “I’m so afraid.” She said it so low I could barely hear her.
    Something inside of me broke. They would all be killed here if I left them. Moss would be the only one inside the Palace who could stop it, and even then, I wondered if he would. I couldn’t do this again, the constant looking back, imagining the things I could have done to save them. I lowered my head, resting my fingers on my brow to shield my face. “We shouldn’t talk here,” I said.
    It was so much easier to leave, wasn’t it? I saw my father in me, that quiet, cowardly side of him that