Once An Eve Novel

twenty-two



“I’M NOT FEELING WELL,” I SAID, PULLING THE THICK COVERS around me. The sun had gone down. The upper floors of the Palace were quiet and dark. Beatrice sat at the end of the bed, her hand resting on the mound of my foot. “Will you bring me something to eat? I’m going to sleep but you can leave it by the door.” I looked away before adding, “Please don’t let anyone disturb me tonight, no matter what.”

Beatrice combed my hair, running her fingers over my forehead. “Of course. You’ve had a very long day.” I squeezed my eyes shut. I kept seeing Caleb’s face on that billboard, hearing the soldiers muttering about the traitor who had killed one of their own, about what they would give to witness the execution. They knew he was inside the City walls. I needed to tell him not to come, that it was too dangerous, but there was no way to reach him. He was already moving through the Outlands, snaking down the empty streets to meet me.

“What’s troubling you?” Beatrice whispered. She took my hand in hers, cradling it. “You can tell me.”

I looked up at her kind, round face. I can’t, I thought, knowing how much danger Caleb was already in. They were probably scouring the Outlands for him. “I’m just sick,” I said, trying to smile. “That’s all.”

Beatrice kissed the top of my head. “Well, then I better get to it,” she said, standing to go. Then she leaned over, looked directly at me, and pressed her warm palm against my cheek. “I will make sure no one disturbs you. You have my word.” She remained there for a moment. Her brown eyes were alert, serious, like I’d never seen them before. I know what you’re doing, she seemed to say, never taking her eyes off mine. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you.

She stood and went into the hall. I kept staring at the door. It didn’t shut all the way, and she didn’t pull it closed and check the knob like she usually did. Instead it rested lightly on the frame, wood against lock, just slightly ajar.

I moved quickly. I’d hidden the uniform in the toilet tank, letting the plastic bag float on top of the water. I pressed the bathroom door closed and dressed as fast as I could, donning the wrinkled white shirt, the red vest, the black pants. Then I retreated into the hallway, down the east staircase, taking off my shoes so as not to make any sound.

It was still before curfew. The streets were just thinning out. I disappeared into the clusters of workers changing shifts, my stomach churning as I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was following me.

People strolled across the overpass, walking arm in arm as they made their way back to their apartment buildings. A Jeep came down the street, two soldiers hanging out of the truck’s bed, scanning the sidewalks. I kept my head down, turning right to cross the main road, toward the building Caleb had marked. It was called the Venetian, an old hotel that had been converted into office buildings. A few restaurants had been opened, the gardens had been replanted, and the wide canals were filled with water once more. As I made my way over the arched bridge, a boat glided past, carrying the last of the day’s passengers.

I was a few steps from the main entrance when I turned, noticing a figure standing on the dock. She was much shorter than me but wore the same uniform, her curly brown hair pulled away from her face. “Are you waiting for a gondola, Miss?” she asked softly, stepping under an overhang and into the shadows. She paused, waiting for me to respond.

I glanced down at the map, at the X Caleb had scribbled right by the dock, and nodded. I followed her to the edge of the water. “You should take off your vest, Eve,” she whispered. As the light reflected off the water I caught glimpses of her delicate hands, the old cameo brooch she wore around her neck. “It’ll look odd if one of the workers is out on the water. But keep your hat pulled down over your eyes.”

I took off the vest and handed it to her just as a narrow boat glided past us. Caleb was standing on the stern, wearing a black shirt and white hat that shielded his face. I scanned the crowd leaving the garden, looking for soldiers. “Last ride of the night,” he called out. He steered the boat with a long wooden oar, pausing at the dock so I could get in. Then he pushed off, into the open water, as the last few people meandered out of the Venetian’s gardens.

I sat facing him, our eyes meeting as he paddled into the center of the canal, away from where anyone could hear us. We drifted on the clear water, the Venetian’s tower lit up behind us. It was a long while before either of us spoke. “They know you’re here,” I said. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s too dangerous now. What if someone followed me?”

Caleb scanned the bridge. “They didn’t follow you,” he said softly.

My hands were trembling. I tried not to look at him as I spoke. Instead I leaned back against the seat, letting it steady me. “The King might suspect something. Clara saw me leave the other night. Yesterday at the marketplace, she said something in front of him.” I looked at him, pleadingly. “I can’t see you again, Caleb. They can’t touch me—I’m his daughter. But you’ll be killed if we’re caught. Your picture is all over the City.”

Caleb dipped the oar in the water, his muscles straining with the effort. The lights danced on the surface of the canal as we glided toward the bridge. “What if I’m killed tomorrow?” he said, pressing his lips together. “What does it matter then? I’m alive here, today. I’ve been to the construction sites and talked to the people in the Outlands. Slowly, they’re starting to see there’s another way. We’re talking about a rebellion. Moss needs me.” He smiled, that smile that I loved, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. “And I like to think you do, too.”

“I want you here,” I said. “Of course I do.”

“Then this is where I want to be.” Caleb turned the oar in the water, steering us. “I can’t sit around doing nothing. I already gave you up once before—I won’t do it again.”

He was silent for a long while. “Do you know Italy?” he finally asked. I nodded, remembering the country I’d read about in our art history books, where so many masters—Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Caravaggio—were born.

“I read once that Venice was the most romantic city in the world. That instead of streets there were waterways. That people played violins and danced in the main square, and boats brought them from place to place. I know I can never take you there, but we have this.”

I stared at the golden tower above us, at the glassy canal, at the ornate arches beneath the bridge. The night was quiet. I could only hear the palms rustling in the wind, the boat slicing through the still water.

Caleb stepped down off the stern and came toward me, careful not to throw the boat off balance. “We’re here now, together. Let’s make the most of it.”

He kept his eyes on me as the boat drifted under the bridge, into darkness. He pressed the oar into the water to slow us. Then he was right there in front of me, his face barely visible as his nose brushed against my cheek, his breath hot on my skin. I leaned my forehead against his. “I’m just scared. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he said, taking off my cap. His hand found its way to the base of my neck, his fingers twisting in my hair. I let him hold me, my head resting in his palm. He dragged his fingertips along my spine, massaging my back through my shirt. Then my lips were on his neck, working against the soft muscles until they found their way to his mouth.

His hand stopped at my waist. He tugged gently at the bottom of the uniform shirt, as if asking me a question. He’d never touched me before, not like that, his fingers right against my skin. It was exactly what the Teachers had warned about in all their lessons, of the men who constantly tested your defenses, bulldozing one, then moving on to the next. They all wanted the same thing—to use you until you were all used up.

I’d spent so many years preparing for this moment, just so I could steel myself against it. But it didn’t feel like that. Not now—not with Caleb. He was asking for permission, his face mirroring all the nervousness I felt. I want to be closer to you, he seemed to say, as he bit down on his bottom lip. Will you let me?

I climbed onto the bench beside him, wrapping my arms around his neck, our tangled bodies hidden beneath the bridge. His head fell back as I kissed him, the warmth of his tongue spurring me on. I nodded yes, guiding his fingers to my waist as he untucked my shirt. His cold hands pressed against my stomach, the touch stealing the breath from my body.

The boat floated on in the cool, dark tunnel. Water lapped at the bottom of the stone bridge. His hands wandered over my back as he pulled me closer to him, pressing his chest to mine. I rested my chin on his shoulder. He was saying something, each word muffled. I couldn’t make it out until his mouth was right next to my ear, his lips tickling my skin. “I don’t care what happens, Eve,” he repeated. “This isn’t something I can just walk away from. Not this time. I won’t.”

I stared at him, our noses nearly touching. I brought my hands to his face, wishing the City was deserted, that there were no soldiers patrolling the City center, no footsteps above us on the bridge, that we could drift into the open canal, his arms wrapped around me. “I know,” I whispered, kissing him softly as we glided toward the end of the tunnel. “Nothing matters more than this.”

I settled back down in my seat. He took his position on the stern, the five feet between us seeming so much further now. I pulled my cap back on as the light hit me. Slowly, the gondola drifted out of the dark, the oar dipping below the still surface of the canal.

“Can we go to the tunnels?” I asked, when we were far enough away from the bridge that no one could hear us. “I want to see where you’ve been spending your time, who all these people are.”

Two soldiers strode by, their guns slung across their backs. Caleb pulled his cap down over his eyes. He grabbed the oar, pushing us farther out into the water. We were both quiet until they passed. “We can go there tonight,” he said softly. “Meet me in the gardens after we dock. But first I have to tell you something.” He rested his knee on the narrow bench in front of him, studying me. He smiled, his eyes so bright they looked like they were lit from within.

The boat pulled up beside the stone stairs. Caleb glanced at the cluster of people still lingering by the edge of the bridge, enjoying the last thirty minutes before curfew.

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he whispered, kneeling to kiss the top of my hand. He stayed there for a moment, smiling up at me, before helping me from the boat.

I started up the stone steps, every inch of me humming with a new energy. I wanted to scream it then—I love you I love you I love you—to grab his hand and run away from the Palace, these people, that bridge.

“Good night, Miss,” he said loudly, as though I were any other stranger. “I hope you enjoyed your evening.”

The woman who had greeted me was still standing beneath the overhang. I walked toward her, but not before turning back, my eyes wet. “I love you, too,” I mouthed. It didn’t seem stupid, or foolish, or wrong. I’d said something I’d always known, the admission sending me into the happiest, irreversible free fall.

His face broke into a smile. He studied me, not taking his eyes off mine, as he pushed off the dock and glided away.