Page 57 of The Black Key

“My . . . ribs . . .” She clutches her side.

“Stay still. Help is coming.” The sirens wail again. I grab the remains of an indigo gown, balling it up and gently lifting Carnelian’s head to rest it on the makeshift pillow. “You’re going to be okay,” I say again, more for myself than for her. Her breathing is shallow and there’s a deep cut on her shoulder. I press another gown to it to stanch the bleeding.

“Is she . . . is she . . .” Carnelian stares past me, to where I know Coral’s body lies.

“Yes,” I whisper, and the guilt is agony, a hot knife twisting in my gut, a punch in the chest that leaves me breathless.

All those bombings. I knew it was violent. Of course. But this . . .

Carnelian begins to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Shhhhh,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “It’s okay, we’re okay . . .”

“I don’t want to die,” she whimpers.

She looks so frightened, so young. I might not like Carnelian, but in this moment, we are the same. We’re just two scared girls.

“You’re not going to die,” I say. “Help is coming. You’re going to be fine.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

She looks at me with an unfocused gaze.

“I—I know your voice,” she says. Her brows knit together for a moment before her eyes widen. “You,” she gasps.

I nod. I don’t even consider lying.

Carnelian’s lips part, she lets out a little huff, then her eyes roll back in her head and she sinks into unconsciousness.

Minutes later, Regimentals run into the ruined shop. One immediately heads for the screaming girl while two more move to help Miss Mayfield and her charge.

“Help the royals, help the royals!” Miss Mayfield cries, pointing to where I sit by Carnelian. A young Regimental rushes over.

“Are you hurt, miss?” he says.

“No,” I say. “But she is. Her ribs, I think, and her shoulder.”

“Medic!” he calls, and a man in a gray coat with a black bag comes over to look at Carnelian. The head girl is taken away, cradling her broken arm. Four Regimentals manage to get the hunk of plaster off Coral. The entire lower half of her body has been crushed.

I close my eyes and hate myself for my cowardice. I should watch this. I deserve to see what the Society of the Black Key is doing. I gather my courage and open them again. Coral is being put in a black bag, like the one they put Raven in when they sent her to the morgue. Two Regimentals carry her out of the store.

Carnelian has been put on a stretcher.

“She’s from the House of the Lake, isn’t she?” the young Regimental asks. I nod.

“She’ll be all right,” the medic says. “I’d guess a couple of broken ribs and that laceration on her shoulder will need stitches. Best get her back to the Jewel. She’ll be safest there.” He glances at the sofa smashed against the wall. “Was she underneath that?” I nod again. “And you lifted it off her?”

I stare at him blankly. Of course I did. He looks impressed but I don’t feel very impressive right now. I feel hollow.

“Come, miss,” the Regimental says, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He leads me to an ambulance waiting outside. Carnelian is slid in after me, along with the medic and another Regimental.

Right away, he starts asking me questions. Did I see anyone suspicious near the bank when we arrived? Did anything seem off? Do I think Miss Mayfield could have had something to do with it? Or one of her assistants?

I answer no to everything as the ambulance tears through the streets.

“Where’s Coral?” I ask.

“She’s well taken care of, don’t you worry.” The Regimental pats my knee.