When the Sea is Rising Red Read Online Free Page B

the dizzying waves. They flash white around the humpback brown rocks, seething.
    “Felicita!” she snaps. “We need to talk.”
    Across the bay, I can just see the gaslights dotted along the Claw, blinking faint as night-worms. And there, like a stain on the horizon, a little ink blot, is Lambs’ Island. Maybe next time I run, I’ll get farther than the promenade. I’ll steal a boat and make it all the way to the island and hide there with the Mekekana ghosts.
    “Felicita.”
    If she says my name one more time I’m going to scream. They’ll hear it all the way out in Old Town. It’s not true, my brother just knows what lies will hurt me the most, that’s all it is.
    “You must forgive your brother,” she says. “He was worried about you, and when he’s worried he doesn’t think.” I can hear her breathing, a trembling, liquid sound. I think she’s crying. “He shouldn’t have told you the way he did.”
    It’s not true. I clench my fists and force myself to stare out the window, to block out my mother’s voice, but there’s no need. She’s fallen silent, waiting.
    Ilven is almost my age, but blond and delicate in the way of House Malker. Glass fragile and dangerous. She’s one of the few playmates I was ever allowed. I’ve known her my whole life. I crawl down from the window ledge and thrust one hand into my pocket and take hold of Ilven’s gift before I open the door.
    My mother twists her hands. “I’m sorry,” she says. And I realize suddenly that she truly is.
    My syrupy anger cools, and inside I feel breakable.
    “How?” I say. My tongue is thick and heavy; I’m trying to talk with a mouth that isn’t really mine.
    “Oh, Felicita.” She wrings her hands, over and over. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
    “Tell me what happened.” I let go of the necklace.
    “She jumped.”
    That’s all Mother needs to say. Our estate and House Malker’s are built on the high cliffs along Pelim’s Tooth. The Tooth, like its mirror the Claw, is a pincer of land that juts around the mouth of the Casabi river, making a protected bay.
    But the cliff isn’t called the Tooth all the time. In fact, most people call it Pelim’s Leap.
    Not to our faces, of course.
    They don’t like to remind us that our House has brought the Red Death to Pelimburg’s shores before, that we have a history of suicides and ill luck.
    I bite down, grinding my teeth, trying to stop the shaking from spreading through my limbs. None of the superstitions are true, but even now there will be talk through the Houses that Ilven has caused House Malker to lose face, that her death brings ill luck to our shores. If there are bad catches in the bay, if the whaling ships are lost in storms, or if another merciless red tide sweeps down the coastline, Hob and low-Lammer alike will whisper Ilven’s name, and they will know at which House’s door to lay their blame.
    So Ilven took the Leap. My hands tremble and I bury them in the soft folds of my dress. “Are you certain?”
    My mother nods. “They found her … body.”
    I hate to think what she means by body . It’s a long drop to the bottom, to the rocks and the crushing waves. In my mind, Ilven’s delicate face turns to a slab of hammered meat. I try to swallow down my nausea.
    There will be why s—people gossiping and speculating as to what Meke-damned trial drove her to it. Whatever thoughts spurred her on, Ilven’s not going to spill them now. And any ill luck that comes to Pelimburg now will be blamed on Ilven’s dive, on the alchemy of falling girls and broken-glass sea. If her death wakes something in the deep, then she will bring more shame down on her House with that one act than she could have accomplished in a lifetime of disobedience. They will hate her for it. I wonder if Lady Malker has already struck her daughter’s name from the family tree.
    “I think I want to sleep,” I say. And I do, really, I do. The last thing I want is to be awake and