Page 14 of Soul Hate
I haul the box of papers onto the table, setting them down with a thump. Exertion slickens my brow, my breath coming faster than I’d like.
Damn, these documents are heavy.
I’ll come back for them later. Instead of diving into the work, I pull off my cloak and throw it over the back of an obliging chair. I haven’t seen Giulia since I left this morning; I should go check on her, make sure nothing else has changed, even though it feels the world has.
I hurry up the stairs of our home, each step creaking softly like a welcome. Outside the sun is starting to slip into a minty blue sky. Long bright patterns of sunshine stretch over the mosaicked corridor floors, falling through large arched windows. I reach Giulia’s door, pushing against the warm wood. Inside are two familiar faces.
Michelle sits in an armchair beside my sister, again holding her hand. In another sits Emilia, her hand on Michelle’s shoulder to comfort her. The two turn their heads the instant I walk in.
“Serra?” asks Emilia immediately, eyes hopeful. I shake my head, gut clenching.
“They won’t reverse the arrest order. Too many explosives and calculations in her workshop for her not to be considered a suspect.” I sigh, hating that I’ve failed, hating the light that dies in Emilia’s eyes when I tell her this. She sits back in her chair, turning her gaze to Giulia.
“She wasn’t involved,” Michelle says quietly, reaching up to smooth back an errant strand of Giulia’s hair. “The notion that Serra would hurt anyone is ridiculous.”
“Agreed,” I groan, sinking down on the bed next to Giulia. Her face remains totally still, no sign of consciousness under the surface. The burns are being treated with ointments every few hours, but they’ll scar. Still, I don’t think scars could mar her beauty.
“So that’s it?” Emilia asks, “We can’t help her?”
“Of course we can help her,” Michelle interjects. “We can visit her. We can keep her spirits up.”
I sigh.
“No, actually … you can’t. She’s arrested on suspicion of treason. That means she’s isolated.” I get up, walking to the cabinet I know Giulia keeps her wine in. I pour myself a shallow glass. “Only Electi and City Guard will be allowed anywhere close to her.”
“Then what about you? You can go.”
“And I will. But…” I trail off. The words get stuck in my throat. I take a swig of the wine, hoping that’ll flush the words free.
“You don’t think”—Emilia’s eyes widen as I turn to look at her—“she’ll actually get … blamed for this? Do you?”
Michelle’s face falls with horror, eyes darting repeatedly between me and Emilia. “That’s not—No! No they can’t,” she stammers, blood draining from her face. Emilia keeps her gaze steady, not backing down from the question.
I hesitate for a moment, hating to share that hollow feeling in my chest with anyone else. But they deserve to know what’s going through my mind. We’re all close friends.
“I think … if they can’t find someone else … that Bellandi and Patricelli are not above sending an innocent person down for the crime. Just so they can put it to bed and move on.” I shake my head, folding my arms in disgust.
How am I left with this? These self-serving, vain, primping peacocks running the greatest city in the world?
How low of a person can you be to just want this to be over, with little care for making sure you have the right person?
“What will happen if she’s convicted?” Emilia asks, the faintness in her voice tells me she already knows the answer. The image of Serra in the dungeon floats to my mind, alone in the darkness in a locked cold cell. I think I might be sick. I drain my wine, turning around to fill it with another generous portion. I can’t look at them, to see the disappointment on their faces.
I’ve let them down. I said I’d handle this and I’ve done next to nothing.
“We can’t let that happen.” Emilia’s voice is strong now, determined. I twist around to see her face set and eyes blazing.
“I won’t,” I promise, leaning back against the wall. My ponytail digs into the back of my head as I raise my eyes to the painted ceilings. How I’m going to clear her, I have no idea, but one problem at a time.
“No, Renza, we can’t let that happen,” Emilia repeats, the chair creaking as she stands up. She brushes her long hair over her shoulder as she folds her arms and gives Michelle a pointed look.
With a sombre expression, Michelle nods. She rubs her forehead, a decision hardening. “You’re right. We can’t.”
“We?” I repeat.
“Yes. We. No matter what the law says, we know Serra is innocent. She’s our friend. We won’t let them hurt her.” Emilia’s words are laced with an unusual fire.
Then I get it. My eyes go wide with shock. I stand straight off the wall, mouth falling open a little. “You’re not suggesting?—?”
“I know you believe in the law with your whole heart Renza, but sometimes it just gets in the way. I personally have no qualms in breaking it,” she says with a calmness that seems totally at odds with the words she’s saying.
Timid, gentle Emilia wants to … break Serra out of prison?
I love my friends to pieces; they are truly brilliant women. The best. But Michelle is an artist and Emilia is an architect. Neither are criminal masterminds, and Halice’s prison is one of the most well-guarded places in the whole city.
“We can’t let Serra go down for this,” repeats Michelle, squeezing Giulia’s hand. “Giulia would agree.”
“Giulia is unconscious, don’t speak for her,” I snap, setting down my wine glass. “Do you even hear what you’re saying? You want to break a suspected traitor out of prison?”
“Serra didn’t do it, you know that,” Emilia snaps back.
“Of course I do!”
“And what chance do you think she has? Realistically, do you trust Bellandi and Patricelli to keep her safe? Do you think they’ll let her go down for this?” Emilia steps towards me, waiting pointedly for an answer.
No. I don’t trust Bellandi or Patricelli to keep Serra safe. Not at all.
It’s been three days since the explosion. Three days and there are no other suspects. Three whole days and we’re no closer to finding the real culprits. How long before all the evidence just vanishes like a puff of smoke?
“I swear, no matter what, I won’t let them hurt her.” My voice feels thick like rubbed raw sandpaper. Emilia shakes her head unsatisfied. Silence echoes around my sister’s bedroom.
“Any ideas, honey?” Michelle jokes softly, giving Giulia a nudge. I swallow tightly, shaking my head. Right now I need to focus on what I can do. The things I can fix.
Like a new budget, after all Bellandi and Patricelli want to rebuild the Grand Temple. I need to make sure that their vanity doesn’t cripple the city. That I can fix.
Time to get to work.