I blinked back sudden, hot tears. She had never called me that. “The picture of you? With the ones I hid in the cistern the night of the Elysium? I got them back. I gave them to you.”

“No. You gave me a stack of heliographs that I did not count and did not even look at until now, because I trusted you.”

Dread swelled inside me. “It’s lost?”

“You lost it.”

“It can be replaced.” I was shaken by her fury, unsure why this mistake was unforgivable. I wasn’t thinking straight. I couldn’t see the true problem. “We can make another one.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not worried about it being lost. I’m worried about it being found.”

There was a horrible silence as we both thought about what would happen if the militia discovered a heliograph in the Ward the exact shape and size of a passport image. They would find the face that matched the image. They would ask questions. Tithes would be taken.

“I must have missed it when I searched the cistern,” I said, hoping it was true. “It must still be there.”

Raven lowered her hand, shaking it free of the strands of my hair. “Get it. Make this right.”

But it wasn’t there.

This time I didn’t even notice my fear of heights, I was already so afraid. I plunged my hands again and again into the cistern, swiping my fingers along the slimy bottom, the water up to my shoulders, splashing my chin. I had scoured the ground below, ignoring the curiosity of passersby, some of whom stopped to gape when I began to climb the gutter pipe. I had peered carefully through the greenery of indi vines as I climbed. I had paced the entire roof, staring down at its plastered surface. I had dug dead vegetation crisped by the sun out of the gutter.

Nothing.

I stared out at the vast city. At its edges twinkled the green-blue sea. Sunshine poured down on my hot head and jeweled the water dripping from me.

Maybe the heliograph had snagged somehow on the coat I had been wearing. Maybe it was still embedded its collar.

Raven’s coat.

Which had been taken from me by the militiamen.

I placed a wet palm on my face.

If I had bothered to look, really look at the heliographs when I collected them from the cistern, I would have known right away that one was missing. I would have known exactly which one.

How could I have been so careless? The heliograph was gone. Raven would be so angry.

What do you do when you can’t make something right?

When you know you won’t be forgiven?

You lie.