Read The White Rose for Free Online Page A

flames. “How are we supposed to get down there?”
    His smile fades. “You’ll have to use the Auguries to put out the fire.”
    “What?” I stare at him, hoping that he’s joking. “How?”
    “I don’t know. But you can do it.”
    “Lucien, that’s not what the Auguries do. I mean, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
    “Listen to me.” Lucien puts both hands on my shoulders. “It can be done. It’s been done before.”
    My mouth falls open. “What? By who ?”
    “That doesn’t matter right now. You have to do this. Otherwise . . .” He looks from me, to Raven, and finally, reluctantly, to Ash. “Otherwise, you’re all dead.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
Five
    I WALK TO THE INCINERATOR, THE WAVES OF HEAT CARESSING my face. Beads of sweat begin to form on my hairline and dew in my armpits. I feel a soft pressure on my wrist.
    “Wait,” Ash says. He looks from me to Raven and back again. “These Auguries . . . are these the things that made Raven get sick?”
    I nod, remembering how Raven vomited blood and effectively ended the Duchess’s luncheon.
    “Will they make you sick?” he asks.
    I hesitate. “Probably.” There’s no point in lying. “Yes.”
    Ash looks like he’s about to protest, but I hold up a hand to silence him. I need to think.
    I consider which of the three Auguries to use—Color, Shape, or Growth. Not Color, certainly—I don’t see how changing the incinerator’s color is going to help. Shape? Am I meant to change the incinerator’s shape somehow? No, it’s the flames that are the real problem. I think about Dr. Blythe, my doctor at the palace, and the oak tree in the Duchess’s garden. He’d taken me out to it to test my Auguries. He insisted I make the oak tree grow and I never thought I’d be able to, it was so massive and so old. But I did.
    I take another step forward, the heat stinging my cheeks. I can’t touch the flames, but maybe touching the incinerator will be good enough. Its surface is hot, but not unbearable, the iron rough under my palm.
    Once to see it as it is. Twice to see it in your mind. Thrice to bend it to your will.
    But I have no image to bend this fire to. I envision a black space, empty and cold, but nothing happens. I don’t even feel the beginnings of an Augury.
    “I can’t . . .” My throat tightens. “I don’t know what to do.”
    An icy hand wraps around mine. Raven stands beside me, her face looking almost alive again.
    “It has to die, Violet,” she says. Keeping our hands clasped, she places her other palm on the incinerator. “It’s not Growth. It’s Death.”
    And then I see it, as clearly as if it were real. The flames growing weaker, smaller, like a mammoth pillow is pressing down on them, smothering them. I feel their resistant flickers, struggling for life, but the invisible pillow is stronger,and they grow frailer and thinner until they are nothing but pathetic wisps of smoke.
    Blood droplets trickle down my nose. My head throbs strangely, but not necessarily in a painful way. The place where my skin touches Raven’s is hot.
    “Did we do that together?” I ask.
    Raven retches, blood spattering the incinerator and streaming down her chin.
    “Ash, give me my nightgown!” I cry. I keep one arm firmly around her waist, practically holding her up as she doubles over, coughing up more blood. One hand I keep on the incinerator. I have a terrible feeling that if I let go, the fire will come back.
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say to her, over and over.
    I turn to see Ash staring at the fireless incinerator with an expression of utter disbelief.
    “Ash,” I say again, and he starts.
    “How did you . . .”
    “The nightgown, please.”
    “You’re bleeding,” he says, hurrying forward with the satchel.
    “I’m fine. It’s stopping already, it stops on its own,” I say, wiping it away with