Gathered in a large group at the base of the steps, the youngest children from the House cried, looking back and forth from the fire to the onlookers as if both frightened them equally. Servants and older students alike tried to comfort them, and others joined in, children of the city slipping out of the crowd to greet the young Children of Industry with shy smiles. The edge of the crowd blurred with thegathered House refugees as the students and servants and professors were drawn into the welcoming throng.
They wouldn’t be prisoners anymore.
I couldn’t recall sinking to sit on the steps or leaning into Julian. He had his head ducked and his eyes closed, and I took his hand. Blood pooled around my leg, dark on the white marble. “It’ll be okay now,” I murmured, struggling to catch my breath to say the words. “No one is returning to the House.”
Dozens of ribbons lay discarded across the polished steps. No. Not ribbons. Scarves. Blue and red scarves. Once, I’d let mine drift away in a beautiful river. But this—this was far more symbolic. Recalling that I still wore the scarf I’d put on to pretend I was an apprentice Conductor, I reached with a shaking hand and untied it. I opened my fingers and let it flutter to the ground in front of the burning House. They’d never have me by the throat again.
The pamphlets had worked. I hoped Nikola would be proud of herself.
As Ezra tried to fuss with my bleeding thigh, I watched a group of young students and professors corral the remaining Elders. Gertrude was with them. With a walking stick raised menacingly, she let Harriet and Isla paw at the Elders to feel their lack of radiance. “Make a move and I’ll brain you,” she told the frantic Elders with a snarl.
“You were faking!” Harriet yelled, using a broom handle to smack one on the top of the head, knocking his wig off.
The Elders clutched one another, reduced to nothing but sniveling cowards for all Sterling City to see. If they survived this day, they’d pay for their deception and greed. They’d pay dearly.
A small laugh burst out of me.
And then I realized I was bleeding to death. I wanted to survive. I wanted to see what the people would build atop the rubble of the House of Industry and all that it had stood for.
Someone pulled me away from Julian. I whined, reaching for him weakly.
“Josephine. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, you foolish girl,” Professor Dunn said. I’d missed her sharp tone. I would miss everything about her.
I tried to tell her that, but for a moment, I lost my ability to speak. The sky was now above me, and I was on my back on the stupid steps I didn’t want to die on.
“Don’t cry. Everyone is safe,” Professor Dunn was saying, her small hand stroking my hair over and over. “You saved them.”
Ezra was pressing his hands very hard against my thigh, and it hurt a lot. “Stop that,” I slurred. “Ow.”
I heard another familiar voice and craned my neck to see. Nikola. Nikola had arrived, and she was cradling Julian on the steps, petting the back of his head as she told him everything would be all right. “We did it,” she said, rocking him. “You did it.”
She looked so sad. I was sad, too, watching Julian try to hide himself. Julian, who had stood so proudly at dawn, who had shared his vision for the future with absolute conviction. I didn’t think he was listening. But if anyone could help him, I wanted to tell her, it was Ezra. Ezra was a patient healer. He’d keep trying for as long as it took.
Beyond Nikola and Julian, I could see that the Transistors, no longer marked by their red scarves, continued to tend to the Generators on the steps. They held the youngest children and soothed the older ones. Relief washed over me like a balm, lessening the pain in my leg.
The sun felt nice.
Professor Dunn wiped my tears away and kissed my forehead. “They’re clearing a path for the Healer’s Guild to approach. For you, Josephine. For you.”
“I want to go home,” I whispered, recalling the peace I’d felt for one short night. I hoped Ezra would know what I meant.
He lifted his head, stricken, and nodded to me. I smiled back and let the roaring wave of oblivion wash me away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It was dark for a long time before I became aware of dull, achy pain. Then, little by little, I made out distant rhythmic thumping and enthusiastic … moaning. Even half-awake, I felt a blush creep up my throat.
When I blinked my eyes open, Columbia stood in a burst of crinoline. A book fell from her lap and hit the floor with a hollow thud. She shouted, “Nikola! She’s awake!”
Before I could manage a response, she ran out of the room. I recognized the chandelier over the bed and the smells of perfume and skin. Worry and wrongness nagged at me, but my thoughts were disconnected and shaky. There was something I needed to know …
I tried to sit up, but every muscle in my body screamed. My leg was wrapped tightly under a thin nightgown, the bandage itchy and the flesh under it very angry. “Ow,” I complained to no one.
Ezra entered the room in a riot of motion, nearly leaping onto the mattress before slowing at the last minute and easing his lanky body onto the bed. “Josephine,” he said carefully. “Can you hear me?”
“Why wouldn’t I be able to hear you?” I asked. Or tried to. Most of the words stuck in my dry throat. I sounded like a morose frog.
He took a cup of water from the nightstand and carefully cradled my head to let me sip at it. It burned my throat. The whole process sapped the energy out of me, and I sank back into the pillow gratefully, forgetting what I needed to know.
