Page 52 of She Who Was Once the Sea

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I’m going to go for a drink," he said. "Would you two care to join me?"

I glanced at Marella. Her eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before looking away again.

"I think I’m going to go back, actually," I said, feigning a yawn. Lucas’s raised eyebrows told me that he didn’t believe me in the slightest.

"I assume you have somewhere to be as well?" He addressed the question to Marella, but he shot me a sly look as he spoke.

I rolled my eyes.

Her face remained impassive. "No," she said flatly. "But I don’t want a drink."

Lucas burst into laughter. "Fair enough. I appreciate the honesty."

With a quick glance between us, he turned on his heel, waving over his shoulder as he walked away.

And then, finally, we were alone.

We stood for a long moment, watching Lucas fade into the mingling mass of bodies.

What was I supposed to say to her?

I opened my mouth once, then closed it again. When I turned to look at her, I was startled to find that she had walked away. I scanned the crowd for a few seconds before I spotted the red dress swishing against the back of her thighs.

I ran to catch up with her. When I did, she barely glanced at me before continuing forward.

We walked like that for a while. At first, I thought she might be heading towards Piazza Centrale, towards her family. But then, she turned down a side street, and I followed.

I followed her for what felt like ages, passing in and out of busy streets, winding through alleys and narrow passages.

Finally, we reached a gate. I was fairly sure we were somewhere on the north side of the city, not far from where we first met just a few nights ago. She stopped in front of the black-painted metal, clasping it in both hands and looking out at what lay beyond.

I let my eyes move in the same direction as her, but I couldn’t tell what she was looking at. The gate seemed somewhat randomly placed; there was no driveway or home on the other side, just a long slab of concrete, slightly curved, that was covered with trash and stank of piss.

"This used to be water," she said after a long while. "It wasn’t even that long ago. I remember seeing tourists take pictures of this place with modern cameras. At night, especially, the water in this canal would reflect the lights from the buildings on either side." Her throat moved heavily, like she were swallowing back a bitter pill. "It was beautiful."

I nodded. I remembered now. This place was depicted in older tourism books describing Rossaia. It had been one of the last remaining visible canals.

"What was it like?" I asked, staring out at the piles of trash, at the shadows they cast along the bottom of the old waterway.

She glanced at me. "What was what like?"

"The city." I inclined my head. "When it was… I don’t know… nice?"

A laugh escaped her lips, and the sound made my heart stutter. It was such a rare and precious thing, I wanted to catch it and hold it tight.

"You don’t think the city is nice now?" She was making a joke, but I could hear the edge in her voice.

"I think the city is decaying," I answered carefully. "Like, everywhere I go, I smell… something rotten. But I don’t get the sense that it was always like this."

Something sad crept into the corners of her eyes, and she looked away from me again. "No," she said. "It wasn’t always like this."

Slowly, she released her grip on the metal of the gate. Flecks of black clung to her skin, and she brushed them off as she started to walk.

Again, I followed her.

"Do you know how the ground smells when the weather is hot and it suddenly rains?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Yes?"