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same.”
    â€œOh, love is handsome, love is charming
    Love is beauty while it’s new
    But love grows old and love grows colder
    And fades away like morning dew.”
    A thick silence follows the song, broken only by the rhythmic pumping of the wheels beneath us. Then Lily laughs, a sort of crying-laugh, and squeezes my hand, and I realize I’ll probably never hear another Marsh-song again.
    T HE TRAIN SLOWS, AND I CAN HEAR THE MASSIVE IRON doors grate and screech as they retreat into the wall that separates the Farm from the Marsh. I’d learned about the Farm, of course—we learn about all the circles in history class—but seeing it is something entirely different.
    The first thing that strikes me is the colors. I never knew so many shades of green existed in nature. And not just green, but reds and pale yellows and bright oranges and juicy pinks.
    I think of Ochre—he must be in one of the dairies by now. I hope he’ll be able to keep working for the House of the Flame. I hate to think of him supporting our family on his own.
    The other amazing thing about the Farm is the landscape. In the Marsh, everything is flat; here, the ground has a sort of rolling feel to it. The train chugs over a bridge, where a river separates two hills. On their slopes, gnarled vines are trained in neat rows, on sticks and pieces of wire. I remember that this is called a vineyard, where grapes are grown for wine. I’ve had wine a couple of times—the caretakers let us have a glass on our birthdays, and on the Longest Night celebration.
    â€œIt’s so big ,” Raven says.
    She’s right. The Farm seems to go on and on, and I almost forget that there is a Marsh, or a Jewel, or an Auction. I can almost pretend there is nothing except this endless expanse of nature.
    A S SOON AS WE PASS THROUGH THE IRON DOORS THAT separate the Farm and the Smoke, the light dims, like the sun’s been turned down a few notches.
    The train runs slowly on an elevated track through a maze of cast-iron behemoths, factories that tower over the streets, their chimneys belching smoke in a variety of colors—dark gray, white, greenish-purple, dull red. The streets are teeming with people, their faces gaunt, their backs bent. I see women and children mixed in with the men. A shrill whistle blows, and the crowd thins as the workers disappear into the factories.
    My heart jumps as I realize there’s only one more circle left after this one. How much longer until we reach the Jewel? How many more minutes of freedom do I have left?
    â€œO OOOH. ” L ILY SIGHS AS WE ENTER THE B ANK. “I T ’ S SO pretty.”
    The sunlight returns to a bright, buttery yellow, and I almost have to shield my eyes as it glints off the façades of the shops that line streets paved with pale stones. Arching windows with silver shutters and ornate signs wrought in gold are commonplace here. Neat rows of trees with thin trunks, their canopies trimmed into perfect green spheres, line the sidewalks, and electric stagecoaches are everywhere. Men in bowler hats and cleanly pressed suits escort women wearing dresses made of colorful silks and satins.
    â€œLooks like Patience was right,” I say. “No pants for women here.”
    Raven grumbles something unintelligible.
    â€œIsn’t it lovely?” Lily leans her head against the glass. “Just imagine—the Exetor might have met the Electress in one of these very stores.”
    Raven is shaking her head slowly. “It’s crazy. All this . . . I mean . . . we’ve seen pictures but . . . they have so much money .”
    â€œAnd we haven’t even seen the Jewel yet,” I murmur.
    â€œAll right, girls, settle down,” an older caretaker named Charity says as she comes in, followed by Dr. Steele. She carries a silver tray bearing different colored tablets in neat little rows. I glance at Raven.
    â€œWhat are the pills