As soon as we return to the manor, Nate crawls into his bunk. Even Saskia seems concerned, making sure he eats an extra hunk of bread and tucking the covers up around his chin. Dusk falls and I know I must head to the orchard to wait for Willow one last time, but before I go I kiss Nate on the head, inhaling his scent. He stirs in his sleep and I kiss him again, just for good measure.
As I leave, Saskia catches me by the arm. ‘Remember. You’re just pretending to fancy him.’
‘It’s OK, Saskia. You saw what happened at the market.’ And he keeps his truncated brother floating in a tank, I think to myself.
She smiles like she knows everything and I know nothing. ‘Imp or Gem, men are all bastards.’
I manage a weak laugh and shuffle to the orchard, still numbed by shock and immune to the chill, trying to rehearse my lines in my head. I know this is the most important scene yet – the midway twist, the scene which ultimately results in Willow following Rose to the city. But the lines stick together and I can’t quite separate them, because I don’t want to tell Willow I love him, I want to tell him he’s a massive twat.
As I walk beside the lake, I notice the moon, a perfect sphere in the water. I smile in spite of myself – funny how the reflection, the echo, can look as real as the thing it reflects. I reach down and fumble with a stone. Then I lob it so it smashes the sphere into a thousand silver pieces.
‘Violet.’
I turn and see Ash approaching. He tilts his head to the side and something reaches inside my gut and starts to pull.
‘What’s going on with you?’ he asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I recognized that Gem, the girl from the market.’
I must look confused because he sighs, a little irritated. ‘Let me give you a clue: massive man feet.’
I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t really have time. I have to meet Willow in a few minutes. ‘Look, it’s really complicated.’
‘You told me she’s not a Gem.’ He sounds a little hurt, betrayed even.
‘She isn’t.’
‘So she really is a spy?’
My hand connects with his. ‘One day I’ll explain, I promise.’
‘You’re keeping secrets from me, after I showed you . . .’ He tails off. We both know what he means, and I’m not surprised he’s pissed.
‘I’ll tell you, I promise . . . just not now. I have to meet someone.’
He examines me with big, searching eyes. ‘You’re not seriously going to meet him?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You can’t really like him, not after you saw those Dupes, not after he was going to let those guards cut off Nate’s hands.’
‘I know.’
‘And you know he’s never going to be with you, not properly, the law forbids it. You’ll end up dancing on those gallows.’
‘Ash, I know.’
‘So why are you doing this?’
I want to tell him everything, starting at Comic-Con and ending right here at the lake, I want to tear down that wall of secrets and lies and I want him to see me for who I really am, but most of all, I want to throw my arms around him and lie my head on his shoulder, knowing that we will slot together perfectly. But I know I can do none of those things. There’s just too much at stake. My body feels like a selection of interlocking parts. I’ve lost all sense of wholeness, of completeness, as though I’m some strange, corrugated puppet held together by pegs.
He sighs – his breath hangs between us like mist. ‘Do you have real feelings for him?’
‘I – I don’t know.’
‘Because you shouldn’t want someone just because –’ his mouth twists a little – ‘because they have a perfect chest to waist ratio, or the perfect cheekbones, or the glossiest hair. You should want someone because they’re . . . I don’t know . . . real, true.’
I can’t help but glance at the water, tiny fragments of moon still dancing across its surface. I look back at Ash, his slightly proud nose, his unthinkably pale blue eyes, and the mouth which I know has the ability to completely overshadow the rest of his features when it cracks a smile. Then I think of Nate and Alice and Katie and home. I have to carry on with the canon. I have to make those two pieces of thread weave together again. I used to cling to the script, to predictability, but now it feels like someone’s ripping me down the middle. ‘I know, I know.’
‘I mean, he doesn’t even know your real name, and it’s such a pretty name, so much better—’
But he never gets to finish his sentence because I’ve already leant forward and started to kiss him. He returns my kiss, his lips warm and soft, his breath filling my nostrils, and I’m spinning and floating like a maple seed, filled with joy and launching into the sky. He weaves his fingers along my spine, an elaborate pattern, and I get this feeling like I can’t inhale any deeper, like my lungs will burst. I pull him closer so his body presses against mine – we really do fit together perfectly.
But my head fills with Alice and Katie and Nate, and that awful ripping feeling returns.
The damned canon.
That bastard butterfly.
I pull away. ‘I’m sorry.’
He studies my face. ‘You – you just want him?’
The lie sticks in my throat like something barbed and sharp. And for some reason, I think of the quote from Katie’s letter. All the world’s a stage. I swallow hard and push the words out one by one. ‘Yes. I just want Willow.’
And without saying anything, he turns and walks away.
I reach the orchard, firmly blinking the tears from my eyes and wiping the kiss from my mouth. I’m such a mess, kissing the wrong character, falling for the wrong guy. Maybe Sally King was right, maybe you can fall in love in just a few days, if the person’s right, if you and they just slot together. For God’s sake, Violet, I tell myself, he’s from another reality, another universe, and you’re going home. The image of my body falling heavily against a rope flashes into my mind – in two days, I will hang – I push it away, blinking hard.
I turn these thoughts in my head again and again, briefly recalling the times when my worst fears were failing an exam or choking on another olive. I almost don’t notice how cold I’ve grown, how dark it’s become. Eventually, the clock chimes midnight.
The bottom of my stomach falls away.
Willow isn’t coming.
The most important scene yet, and Willow’s stood me up. It feels like my skin is missing. I’ve failed. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want me. Nate was right. I should have stuck to the script. I run through it all in my mind, the Gallows Ball, the kiss, the market.
Something clicks. The market. He’s embarrassed, of course. He failed to stand up for an Imp, an Imp clearly important to me. He let me down, and he knows it. I feel my heart rate slow. I just need to go to him, show him that it’s OK and get the canon back on track.
I push aside thoughts of Ash, thoughts of the noose tightening around my throat, thoughts of that truncated, floating body, and I feel a renewed sense of purpose. I take a huge mouthful of apple-scented air.