Текст книги "Of Beast and Beauty "

Автор книги: Stacey Jay

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depends on whether or not they’re being cooperative.”

“The roses?”

“Sometimes they show what I ask to see,” she explains. “Sometimes

they show me something else. The night we left, I saw Bo knocking at the

tower door.” Her fingers tap a nervous rhythm on my arm. “Hopefully my

absence wasn’t discovered. I doubt it was. I think the roses were just trying

to scare me into staying in Yuan. They’ve been … different lately. I don’t like

being alone with them anymore.”

I walk a little more slowly. The way she talks about the flowers, it

sounds like the roses are alive. Aggressively alive. It makes me remember

her words that first night, about their hunger.

“What are the roses hungry for?” I ask.

“What?” She stumbles, but I hold her up, carrying her until she

regains her feet.

“That first night, you said they were hungry.” I watch her face, barely

able to see her features in the increasing darkness. The first moon won’t

rise for another hour or more. Soon, we’ll both be walking in the dark. “You

said the roses were hungry.”

She licks her lips. “How far are we from the dome? The smell is

strong now.”

“Is it blood?”

She turns sharply in my direction. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. It was a guess. I saw the thorn under your fingernail,” I say,

more disturbed by the confirmation of my suspicion than I thought I would

be. Magic fed by blood is dark magic. My people have never practiced dark

magic.

Your people have also starved, while the Smooth Skins grew fat in

their enchanted cities.

“How often do you feed them?” This might be my only chance to

learn how to care for the plant I plan to steal. Dark magic or not, most of

my people won’t care, as long as it puts food in their babies’ bellies.

“I don’t feed them,” she says. “I mean, I do, but that’s not

what … They require a … larger offering. Every thirty years. Sometimes

twenty. It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

She sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. Lots of things. If the dome is damaged

by a storm and the roses have to repair it, that takes a lot of strength. If

blight touches the harvest, or children are born sick, or … any number of

things.” She shrugs and lifts a hand in the air. “Any weakness in our city or

our people. Correcting those things can make the roses grow hungry again

faster.”

“But the roses’ magic doesn’t stop some children from being born

tainted.” I hate the word, but it’s what she understands.

She shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t. Which is as good an argument

as any that the tainted people aren’t a threat,” she says, surprising me.

“Our covenant has remained strong for almost eight hundred years. The

roses take care of us. Surely, if the tainted were something to be afraid of,

the roses would use magic to correct their mutation.”

“Makes sense,” I say, strangely proud of her. And hopeful in a way I

haven’t been before. Maybe something is changing inside Isra.

“I agree,” she says. I can just make out her smile in the near dark. “I’ll

have to remember that when I talk to Junjie about doing away with the

Banished camp.”

I slow again. “You’re going to do it?”

“I am. As soon as I can. After we plant the bulbs tomorrow, I’ll go

straight to his chambers,” she says, squeezing my arm. “But tonight I want

to see you.”

“All right.” I smile down at her, my empty stomach clenching, more

nervous than I thought I would be at the thought. I wonder what she’ll see

when she looks at me tonight? A smile or bared teeth? A man or a

monster? “But I want to give the plants my blood. You’re already weak.”

“No, you can’t,” she says, sounding faintly horrified by the thought.

“It has to be … The roses feed only on …”

“On what?”

“On women,” she says, but there’s something crooked in her voice, a

sharp edge that jabs at the hope inside me. “It’s all right. A little blood

won’t do me any harm.”

“What about a lot of blood?” I ask, putting my finger on what’s

bothering me most about the roses. “You said the roses needed a larger

offering every thirty years. How large?”

She falters again. This time, I don’t pull her along. I stop, and turn to

her, making sure she’s steady on her feet before capturing her face in my

hands. I don’t want her to hide. I need the truth, and there’s just enough

light left for me to see her eyes. She can never lie with her eyes. They will

answer my question, even if her lips will not.

“How large, Isra?” I whisper. “Do you mean … a death?”

Her lips part, and a tiny choking sound escapes her throat. Her eyes

tighten and begin to shimmer the way they do before the Smooth Skin

tears come. “No, not a death,” she lies.

“You swear it?”

“I swear, not one of my people has ever died to feed the roses.” This

time, her eyes tell me she’s speaking the truth. Either she’s getting better

at lying or there’s something that I don’t understand.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I mumble beneath my breath.

“What?” she asks.

“Your ways are strange to me.” I sigh, feeling every mile we’ve

walked in the past two days. “Some stranger than others.”

“They’re strange to me, too.” She leans her cheek into my hand, and

for a moment she looks so young, so lost.

“It’s all right.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her close,

dropping my lips to the top of her head, kissing her wild hair.

“Is it terrible that I don’t want to go back?” she asks.

“No,” I say, wishing she’d look up.

“Yes, it is. If you knew …”

“If I knew what?”

She shakes her head and pulls away, until only her fingers touch my

arm. “Nothing. Let’s go. At least there’s food there. I’m starving. I’m sure

you’re hungry, too. We can put off the roses until another night if you’d

like. Needle set you free once. I’m sure she could manage it again.”

“We could eat first and then go,” I say, more curious about the roses

than ever before. “Could your maid—”

“She could,” Isra says. “Or I could crawl up and get us something

from the tower. We keep apples and nuts and other things in the pantry in

the sitting room for something light between meals. It wouldn’t take long

for me to fetch some, especially if you tell me when it’s safe to climb. I

usually have to listen for the guard, but—”

“Why can’t you go in the door?”

“I’m sure Bo has put guards outside,” she says, her tone souring. “He

promised he’d assure my privacy, but I know the way he and his father

work. They watch me. They’ll want to know if I leave my rooms. That’s why

I didn’t take the door on the way out.”

“Then how did you—”

“I jumped,” she says. “From the balcony.”

“Jumped?” The thought makes my stomach flip. I’m a warrior. I’m

not afraid of much. But I’ve seen the height of that tower. “All the way from

the top?”

“Tiered roofs are good for more than decoration. It’s only a ten-foot

drop each time.” She shrugs, but I can hear the pride in her voice. “I’ve

been getting out that way since I was eleven. Getting up takes longer, but

there are lots of stones sticking out from the outer wall. It’s easy to climb in

bare feet.”

“You climb the outside of the tower?”

She nods.

“That’s …” Mad. Outrageous. Courageous. “Impressive,” I finally say.

“Thank you,” Isra says, grinning.

“Crazy. But impressive.” She giggles, and I smile in spite of myself.

“You really do play with fire.”

“I do.” She clears her throat, and her fingers pluck nervously at my

shirt. “So … food and then roses?”

“Yes. I’d like for you to see me. Give you something to dream about

tonight.”

I meant it to be a joke, but there’s nothing funny about the way she

says, “Oh, I’ve already dreamed about you. This morning, in fact.”

My mouth goes dry. “Really?”

“Yes. It was a nice dream,” she says. “A very nice dream.”

“Isra …,” I warn, not sure which one of us I’m warning, or what will

happen if the warning is ignored.

“Gem …” She mimics my tone so perfectly, I can’t help but smile. And

grunt.

She laughs as she steps closer, wrapping her arm around my waist.

After the slightest hesitation, I put my arm around her shoulders and we

walk—hips bumping, her cheek pressed to my chest—and for now we are

just a boy and a girl, walking the desert under a sky full of stars.

FIFTEEN

ISRA

CLIMBING is harder than it’s ever been before.

My arms tremble and my fingers cramp. My breath comes fast and

my toes slip more times than I’d like—especially knowing Gem’s watching

from below, close to where we’ve hidden the bulbs beneath a shallow layer

of dirt in the fallow cabbage field.

I wanted to impress him, but by the time I pull myself up and over

the edge of the third roof, I’m wishing I’d found some way to distract the

guards and gone through the wretched door.

I’m starving and exhausted, and not certain I’m going to make it to

the top. It makes me think about my mother, about what it must have been

like to jump from the balcony and keep falling and falling. It would be just

my luck to tumble off the tower and break my neck right when I feel ready

to take on the world.

My world, anyway. Yuan seems smaller after my days in the desert.

More manageable, somehow. Even thoughts of the power struggles and

hard talks and difficult decisions in my future don’t daunt me. I feel strong.

In mind. In spirit.

The flesh, however …

By the time I drag myself over the balcony ledge, I’m covered in a

cold sweat and shaking from head to toe. I collapse on the stone floor in a

grateful heap, breathing hard, my heart beating in my stomach, my head

throbbing so fiercely, colors bloom in my darkness. My bones vibrate like

bells after they’re rung too hard, but I’m alive. I made it.

“Thank the ancestors,” I sigh, then giggle softly to myself.

I don’t know why I find it funny to say things Gem says, but I do. I

love the way he talks, his myriad grunts, the rumble in his chest when he

laughs. I even love the way he gets grumpy with me and isn’t afraid to show

it.

But most of all, I love the way he touches me, the way I touch him.

I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I just don’t see how something

that feels so right can be wrong.

“It does feel right,” I whisper, rolling onto my back, breath finally

coming easier. “It feels … wonderful.” I smile despite the pain still pulsing

behind my eyelids. Not even this nasty headache can dampen my spirits.

I stretch my arms above my head and point my toes and arch like a

cat, more aware of my physical being than I’ve ever been. My entire body

tingles at the thought of being back with Gem. Unfortunately, my body is

also dirty and, a quick sniff confirms, none too fresh-smelling. There isn’t

time for a bath—though Gem is well hidden behind the bushes on the

unguarded side of the tower, I don’t want to leave him waiting—but I can

at least have Needle bring a bowl of water and a sponge and beg her to do

something with my hair before I head back out into the night.

After I ask her to bring me something to eat. I’m faint with hunger.

“Needle!” I call from my place on the ground, too exhausted to

bother getting up. “I’m back. I’m on the balcony. Can you bring some fruit

and nuts? Enough for two?”

“Who else are you feeding?” The deep, angry male voice is

completely unexpected, making me bolt into a seated position.

I knock my head on the parapet but ignore the agony blossoming in

my skull as my headache becomes something much more painful. I spin and

spring onto the balls of my bare feet, staying in a crouch, ready to hurl

myself at this man’s voice and knock him flat the second he proves he’s

here to hurt me.

Bo’s hint that someone in Yuan has been poisoning me comes back in

a rush, making me shake as I demand, “Who’s there? Who are you?”

“It’s Bo,” he says, making my jaw drop. He sounds nothing like

himself. His voice is so deep and angry and … cutting. “You’re filthy. Get up

off the floor. You look like an animal,” he continues, barking at me like one

of his misbehaving underlings.

“Bo, I …” I want to tell him to leave me be, but I can’t until I learn

how much he knows. “What are you doing here?”

“Better question, where have you been? I discovered you were

missing early this evening.” I hear his footsteps moving closer, and the hair

at the back of my neck prickles. My mind tells me Bo wouldn’t hurt me, but

something instinctive urges me to run, to fight him if he tries to stop me.

“Who have you been with, Isra? What kind of man leaves you looking like

that? Like he had you in the dirt?”

“What?” I laugh, even as my cheeks heat. Surely he can’t mean—

“You think this is funny?” Bo snatches my arm, and pulls me to my

feet. My laughter ends in a gasp of surprise. And pain. His fingers don’t feel

soft anymore. They bite through my flesh, not shying away when they find

bone. “You think it’s funny to make a fool of me?”

“Let me go,” I order in my iciest tone, doing my best to ignore the

fear making my blood race and my splitting head spin.

If Bo decides to abuse me—here in my private chambers, where no

one but he and his father have ever dared set foot—there will be no one to

stop him. Needle’s life will be over if she lays hands on a soldier. The

punishment for assaulting a member of the guard is death.

The thought makes my heart beat even faster. Penalty of death or

no, she would still defend me. I have to tell her to stay out of this, no

matter what. “Where’s Needle?” I ask, trying not to wince when Bo’s grip

grows tighter. “I require my maid.”

“Your maid is in your bedroom,” he says, his tone openly mocking.

“With orders not to set foot outside it until I find out who the queen has

been rutting with tonight.”

Fury banishes my fear and pain. How dare he? “Get out,” I snap.

“Now. Before I punish you the way I would anyone else who spoke to me

that way.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh, an ugly laugh that makes my throat tight.

“Are you threatening me?”

“It’s not a threat; it’s a warning.” With a sharp jerk, I wrench my arm

from his grasp. Pain knifes through my head in response, but I blink it away,

ignoring the throbbing behind my eyes and the pitching of my stomach. I

can’t show weakness, not if I want to take the upper hand. “I am the queen

of Yuan. If I wanted you wrapped in chains and tossed into the river, I could

have it done. Within the hour. You forget yourself.”

“No, you forget yourself,” he snaps. “You aren’t a queen; you’re a

disgrace. Everyone knows it. That’s why your father locked you away in the

first place.”

“You have one minute to leave before I call the guards.”

“I can’t believe I felt sorry for you.” His anger is a live thing, hovering

in the air between us, threatening to dig its claws into me all over again. “I

can’t believe I defended your life while you deceived me!”

“You’re out of your mind.” I try to stand tall, but the torture in my

skull makes me sway. I brush my hair from my clammy forehead and

swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I’ve never deceived you,” I say, voice

breathier than I would like.

“But you would have,” he says. “When we were married, and you

bore me a bastard.”

For a moment all I can do is lean against the parapet, gaping in his

direction, reeling from shock and trying not to be sick. “We aren’t even

betrothed.”

“But we would have been. It was understood. By everyone, and I

don’t—”

I cut him off with a hand held in the air between us. “It doesn’t

matter what was understood. There are no papers signed. You never even

asked permission to court me. You certainly haven’t earned the right to act

like a jealous husband.”

“I planned to ask you to marry me tonight,” he says. “But instead of

finding you waiting for news about the welfare of your city, I found the

tower deserted and you out spreading your legs—”

“Stop this,” I hiss, shaking with anger. “I’ve done nothing to deserve

this, and even if I had, it isn’t your place to speak to your queen like a

woman you bought for the night!” I shout, regretting it immediately as the

pain grows so fierce that tears fill my eyes.

I take a breath and try to blink them away, hating that Bo might think

that I care enough to cry over anything he has to say, but the agony only

grows worse. The bursts of color return, coming faster, a dizzying barrage

of red and green and orange that makes it difficult to focus on his words.

“I wouldn’t … None of this would have happened if …” He clears his

throat. “I came here to tell you the dome hasn’t been compromised. I did

the inspection myself. It was a snake skin on the glass. I was … so happy,”

he says, a hitch in his voice. “For you. And myself. I couldn’t wait to tell

you.”

“That’s wonderful news,” I whisper, bracing myself against the

balcony wall with both hands.

I’m shaking again. Shaking and sweating, the misery in my head

swiftly becoming more than I can bear. I have to get rid of Bo. I need

Needle to help me into bed and then hurry down and help Gem sneak back

to his cell. I won’t be seeing him or the roses tonight. I can barely stay

upright, let alone go jumping from roofs.

“Bo, this isn’t what you’re thinking.” I hate defending myself to him,

but it’s the quickest way to get him to leave. “I was in my garden. Alone.

I’ve been there most of the past two days.”

“The guards never mentioned seeing anyone in your garden.”

“I hid in the wheelbarrow when I heard them coming,” I say, thinking

fast. “I didn’t want company, but I couldn’t stand sitting up here doing

nothing. But I did too much. That’s why I asked Needle to bring enough

food for two. I need to eat. I barely had the strength to get back into the

tower.”

“How did you get in and out of the tower?” he asks. “The guards

never saw you leave, and I’ve been watching the main stair all evening, and

then suddenly here you were, on the balcony. Is there a secret entrance, a

hidden passage?”

“Please,” I mumble, not having to fake the weakening of my knees

that sends me sliding back down to the ground. “I need to rest.”

I close my eyes, but that doesn’t make my head ache any less. If

anything, it hurts more. I stifle a moan, wishing I were in my bed, wishing I

could lie down right here and press my forehead against the cold stone.

“You swear there isn’t …” He clears his throat. “You swear you were

alone? You haven’t been with another man?”

I want to scream, but instead I shake my head, just the barest

movement back and forth. “No. No one.”

Not yet, I add silently, but if there is any way to manage it, I will make

sure I take a lover before I marry you.

Marry Bo. The thought was nervous-making before. Now it makes me

feel like a fish being gutted. But it’s unavoidable. Junjie will never go along

with any of my proposed changes for the city if I defy him. If I refuse to

marry his son, I’ll find my chief advisor even more difficult to deal with. And

if I relieve Junjie of his duties, my people will be frantic with fear and not

inclined to love me for turning their world upside down. They have faith in

Junjie; they trust him to keep the city safe. Even before my father died, it

was Junjie and his strong, solid presence at the head of the military force

that gave the people a sense of security. My father told me as much.

“If that’s true …” Bo’s sigh places him no more than a foot away, his

mouth closer to the floor than it should be. He must have knelt beside me

while I was lost in the misery of my thoughts. “I apologize. I never meant to

upset you. I just … I couldn’t bear thinking of you with someone else. It hurt

me. I care for you, Isra.”

I would laugh if I could.

I know what a hurt boy sounds like. A hurt boy sounds like Gem did

last night—angry, but desperate for a reason to put his anger away. Bo

wasn’t hurt; he was embarrassed, and intended to make me pay for

shaming him with another man, despite the fact that he has slept with

every unmarried noblewoman under the age of thirty, and a few of the

married ones besides.

And this is the man I will marry. This is the man my children will turn

to for comfort when their mother is dead.

“I don’t feel well,” I choke out, breath coming fast as I try to keep

from crying, from being sick, from joining the colors flashing behind my

eyes and exploding in a burst of pain. “Fetch Needle.”

“You don’t need her. I’ll take care of you.” His too-warm, too-damp

hand touches my cheek, and I flinch, head rushing with thoughts of how

that hand will feel on my body, how that hand will touch places only Gem

has touched, places I don’t want anyone else to touch.

It sickens me. It’s too much. I’m—

I roll onto my hands and knees and retch, bringing up cactus

milk—the only thing I’ve had to eat or drink all day—and continuing to

heave even when the last of it is gone. By the time I’m able to stop,

Needle’s cold fingers are on my forehead, testing the temperature of my

skin before pulling my hair back and plaiting it into a swift braid.

I suppose Bo decided he’d rather not take care of me after all, if

there is retching involved.

I’ll have to arrange to vomit every night for the rest of my life.

“Needle,” I sob, swiping the sleeve of my long underwear across my

mouth. “Are you all right?”

I hold out my palm, and her hand moves beneath my fingers. I’m fine.

Has he hurt you?

“No. I’m okay. I’m just … I’m ill,” I say, voice trembling. “I think the

eggs you sent with me this morning might have gone bad while I was

working in the field.”

I know Needle will understand and go along with my pretense, even

before she signs, Pretend I’ve apologized. Send him away. No one else

knows you were gone. We can keep our secret if we’re careful.

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s m-m-mine,” I stutter, the urge to be sick

returning as the lights flashing behind my eyes get brighter and brighter.

Shapes and colors flash and disappear, shifting and swimming as I turn my

head. “Bo?”

“Yes?” He sounds moments from retching himself.

“Will you fetch the healers?”

“Right away.” I hear him turn to go, and I dare to hope that Needle

and Gem and I will escape this adventure undiscovered.

And then I hear it—a soft grunt over the side of the balcony.

A Gem grunt.