Текст книги "Of Beast and Beauty "

Автор книги: Stacey Jay

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ISRA

“THE ground will be ready soon,” Gem says, his words underscored

by the steady chip, chap of his hoe as it breaks up the soil that has proven

too stubborn for our plow.

I follow behind him on my hands and knees, gathering clumps of

grass, rocks, and springy roots in my giant pockets. Needle stitched me a

new pair of overalls—in mourning green—but I wear them only out here, in

the loneliest corner of the city, by the Desert Gate. I like it out here. It’s

quiet and peaceful, and the guards hardly bother Gem and me at all

anymore.

After a month with no show of claws, the soldiers began taking turns

at Gem’s side. After eight weeks, they watch our progress from chairs at

the edge of the field. Bo tells me one of them always has a blow tube and a

sedative dart ready, but I’m not so sure. I catch snippets of their

conversations, and it sounds like they’re more focused on card games than

protecting their queen.

No matter how valuable my life is to the city, boredom eventually

won out over duty. Knowing Gem as I do, I’m betting that’s part of his plan.

He has a plan. A secret. I’d bet my hands on it. I know him better

than he thinks I do. You don’t spend every afternoon with

someone—listening to his stories and teaching him songs—without

learning a thing or two about the way his mind works.

“The herbs can be put off a month or two, but not the bulbs.” Gem

speaks our language like he was raised in the city now. There is nothing

growly or rough about him. He is the perfect gentleman. Gentle-Monstrous.

“We need to get them into the ground,” he continues. “They should

be planted while it’s still cold.”

“It will be cold forever.” A part of me believes it. Spring is a promise

that nature doesn’t intend to keep.

“It won’t be cold forever.”

“It will. My nose will never be warm again.”

“Good thing blue suits you,” he says, making my lips twitch. “Have

you spoken to Junjie?”

“I speak to him every day. Several times a day. Whether I like it or

not.”

“You know what I mean.”

I sigh. “I do.” I sit back on my heels and tilt my face up, soaking in

what warmth I can from the weak winter light penetrating the dome. Our

great shield is made of ancient glass, designed by our ancestors to block the

damaging rays of the sun, specially treated to keep the city from growing

too hot during the summer or too cold during the winter. Still, the air is

chilly in the winter months.

According to Gem, it’s even colder in the desert. If it weren’t for the

risk of Monstrous attack, it would be possible for a citizen of Yuan to

venture outside the city for a short time without fearing sun damage.

But there is the risk of attack. Gem’s tribe is only one of many. The

other tribes—those farther to the east and the south—have left our city in

peace until now, but they wouldn’t hesitate to kill a Smooth Skin found

wandering their lands. I can’t ask the soldiers to put their lives in danger,

and Junjie will never allow Gem through the gate alone. His people have

withdrawn deep into the wilds. They’ve left our city alone, as they

promised, and Gem is the reason. Junjie won’t risk having our good-luck

charm running off into the desert, never to return.

I would agree with him, but I know Gem’s legs aren’t healing as well

as we’d hoped. He can’t stand for more than a few hours at a time—hence

the slow pace of our ground breaking. He would never make it to his

people’s winter camp on foot, but he could make it to the mountains where

the bulbs we need grow, and back to the Hill Gate. And he would come

back. He doesn’t want to die of starvation in the desert. He’s as committed

to living as the people of Yuan.

So committed, he nearly has me convinced that he doesn’t hate me

anymore.

Nearly.

I haven’t hated him for a long time. I like how steady he is with his

work, how he hums beneath his breath when he hoes, the stories he tells,

the jokes he makes about Yuan and our abundance of cabbage, even the

way he teases me about my big hands and clumsy feet. I like him. Sadly,

aside from Needle, my monster prisoner is the best friend I’ve ever had.

“Isra? The bulbs?”

“Tell me a story,” I say. “Something scary where terrible things

happen to bad creatures.”

“If I can’t leave the city, I can’t get the bulbs or seeds we’ll need,”

Gem says, refusing to play along the way he usually does.

“I know. I’ve known that since we started.” I scratch at my wrist,

wincing as paper-thin pieces of myself fall away. My skin is worse than ever.

The winter never agrees with it, but this winter has been especially brutal.

Needle washes the skin everywhere but my face and neck twice a day in

milk and honey, but still, I’m falling to pieces. “Well …” I force myself to

stop scratching with a sigh. “You’ll just have to leave the city, I suppose.”

“When?” There’s hunger in his voice. Is it hunger for escape or simply

for a few hours of freedom? I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. In the

past two months, my time with Gem has become the bright spot in my day.

If he were to leave …

“Remember your promise,” I say softly. “You’re to stay here.

Forever.”

“There’s no such thing as forever,” he says. “And I promised nothing.

No one speaks for me. Not even my father.”

“Psh.” I pick the rocks from my pocket, chucking them out into the

grass at the edge of the field one by one. I’ll have to pick them up again

later, but I don’t care. It will give me more time to figure out what to do

about the seeds. “Parents make promises for their children all the time. I

was promised to this city before I was even conceived.”

“And it’s clear how pleased you are by it,” he says.

“Don’t let Junjie hear you say that.”

“Why not? Why not tell him yourself, and let them find another

queen?”

My arm falters, and the rock in my hand falls. “That’s not the way it

works,” I say, running my fingers along the ground until I find the stone

again. “You know that by now.”

He grunts. “Well, then … why not leave? The desert wind isn’t

something any living thing should do without,” he says, dangling the words

like bait on the end of a line.

“A blind girl. In the desert. Alone. That sounds like a wonderful plan,

Gem, but I have responsibilities here,” I say, wishing I’d never let him know

how much I crave the feel of the wind on my face. I throw my rock. Hard,

using the full strength in my long arm. “Besides, I need this garden. A

mutant queen isn’t good for the city.”

He’s quiet for a long, strained moment that makes my skin start to

itch all over again.

“Yes?” I ask, recognizing his “about to say something Isra won’t like”

silence. “What is it?”

“It’s … I’m not sure the garden will give you what you’re looking for.”

I cross my legs, letting my heavy pockets flop at my sides as I tilt my

chin up, fixing him with my full attention. “But the herbs and bulbs we’ll

plant will reverse or inhibit mutation,” I remind him. “You’ve said so

yourself. What about the Monstrous babies born with scales covering their

eyes? And the boys whose teeth would grow too large to fit their mouths

without the herbs your healers administer when they’re children?”

“The healing pouches have helped my people,” he says, groaning as

he settles on the ground across from me. His legs seem to hurt the most

when he’s standing up or sitting down. “But you are what you are. There’s

no changing that.”

“Maybe not, but there’s a chance to stop it before it gets any worse.”

I drop my voice to a whisper, suddenly very conscious of the soldiers across

the field. “I’m … growing.”

“And?” Gem asks in a way that makes it clear he thinks I’m being

ridiculous.

“I’m already the tallest person in the city, and I’m still growing,” I say,

wishing I had a rock left to chuck at him. “My new mourning dresses are

bursting at the seams. I thought Needle had made a mistake in her sewing,

but her measurements were correct when she took them four months ago.

She didn’t think to re-measure. I’m sure she assumed it was impossible for

me to get any bigger.”

“My people grow until eighteen or older. Isn’t it the same for Smooth

Skins?”

“No, it’s not,” I say, though I’m not completely sure, not having been

around any growing girls besides Needle and not remembering when my

maid stopped stretching. “At least not the way I am. But it’s not only me I’m

worried about. It’s come to my attention that there are others who need

this garden even more than I do.”

Others who will be grateful for the work I’m doing here, and who will

help me prove that I am a true queen, more than a sacrifice or an

entertaining source of gossip.

“What others?”

“The other tainted, the ones with more severe mutations. The rest of

the city won’t tolerate them,” I say, anxiety rising in my chest. “Bo says

their situation is worse than I knew.”

Baba told me about the Banished, but he never told me how cruelly

they were treated. Bo was surprised that I didn’t know the rules for the

outcasts. I lied and told him that Baba rarely discussed city matters with

me, but I’m sure Bo guessed the real reason the king kept the worst aspects

of the Banished camp from his daughter. He didn’t want to frighten me, or

make me worry what might have become of me if I weren’t so valuable to

the city.

If my father had remarried and given Yuan another queen, and if the

court advisors had reviewed my case and found me sufficiently tainted, I

might be living in that camp today.

“They live on the outskirts, and are fed and watered like animals.” I

swallow hard and continue. “They can’t own shops or work in the orchards

or come near our animals or children. They can’t have children of their own

or seek help from the healers. Their lives are often … cut short. I would like

to help them.”

Gem growls something in his language, really growls for the first time

since the day he threatened to open my throat. “And you call my people

monsters.”

I flinch. He’s right. I didn’t realize how right until I met him.

I had always taken for granted that the texts on the Monstrous were

correct and that outer mutation was a sign of a corrupt soul, of being not

entirely human. But that clearly isn’t always the case. There is nothing

hideous about Gem’s soul. The same might not be said for all his

people—certainly not for the one who slaughtered my father—but for

Gem, ugliness is superficial. Surely it could be the same with the people

forced into the camp at the edge of the city. If a Monstrous can be so

human, surely some of those Banished citizens of Yuan are more human

still.

“It isn’t fair, I know,” I say. “But—”

“And why are these people cast out?” he asks. “Because they have

scaled skin or are bigger than the other children?”

“I don’t know. It was all decided before I was born. But I do know

this …” I drop my voice again. “Because of me … my … Some of the nobles

worry that mutations might be catching, beginning to infect those who

have always been immune. But if I can show them there’s a cure … or at

least a way to slow the process …” I clear my throat.

It’s difficult to talk about this with Gem. He doesn’t realize how

repulsive the Monstrous are to my people. He doesn’t think it odd that the

Monstrous grow plants to impede mutation but use them only for babies

born with scales covering their eyes, or in other rare cases where health is

threatened. He seems to think his people are beautiful.

“That’s why I need this garden,” I say, tugging another chunk of grass

from the earth and stuffing it into my pocket. “Why the city needs this

garden.”

“They don’t need a garden. They need a queen.”

I blink in the direction of his voice. “What does that mean?”

“You have more power than you think. You could put a stop to this

with a word.”

“I couldn’t.” I shiver at the thought. I can’t even convince Junjie to

change the seating arrangement in the great hall so that I don’t have to eat

on a pedestal at the center of all the gossip.

“Division makes a people weak,” he says. “My chief would never

allow this.”

“You don’t understand. I’m queen, but I’m not—”

“Excuses.” He grunts as he struggles to stand.

“It’s not an excuse,” I say, not sure whether to be offended or hurt.

“I’m tainted. Not as badly as those who are banished, but the whole people

still won’t listen to me. They’ll think—”

“It doesn’t matter what they think.” The sound of his hoe being flung

onto the dirt makes me flinch. “It only matters that they do what—”

“Move away from the queen!” The shout comes from the edge of the

field, making me flinch again. Bo. I didn’t know he was here. He wasn’t with

the other soldiers when they arrived with Gem.

But he’s been doing this lately, materializing wherever I happen to

be. He says it’s because his father asked him to keep a “special eye” on me.

A special eye. I don’t like the sound of it.

“It’s all right!” I call. “We’re only talking.”

“We’re finished talking.” Gem is already shuffling away. The rattle of

the chains hobbling his feet makes the skin at the back of my neck bunch. I

hate that sound. I hate that I’ve never had the courage to ask for the chains

to be removed. “Tell the guards I’m ready to go back to my cell.”

“Are you all right?” Bo squats beside me, his swift breath ruffling the

hair above my ear. I want to swat it away like an insect, but I don’t. Bo

hasn’t done anything inappropriate. Not really.

“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile.

It’s not Bo’s fault that I’m having a difficult time embracing our

impending betrothal. Junjie hasn’t said anything outright, but his

machinations aren’t as subtle as he believes. Bo is always seated next to me

at dinner, always the one chosen to deliver messages to my rooms, and the

only guard allowed to be alone with me. As soon as my mourning is over,

Junjie will be at the tower door with official betrothal documents in hand,

asking me to sign away what little freedom I’ve enjoyed since Baba’s death.

Bo is a good man, a good boy—only nineteen, the same age as

Gem—but even good men can make cruel jailors. My father locked my

mother in the tower for months before she made her fatal escape, and he

held me prisoner for years. What if Bo proves to be a king who prefers his

wife kept under lock and key?

I know it’s my duty to marry as soon as custom allows, but I can’t

help wishing I had more time to adjust to the idea, to adjust to Bo. He’s

attentive and flattering, but aside from his opinions on wine and music, I

don’t know much about him. I can’t seem to scratch the surface to find out

what—if anything—lies beneath.

Winter, as miserable as it is, can’t pass slowly enough this year.

“Are you sure?” Bo asks.

“I’m sure.” I brush the dirt from my hands, moving a degree away

from him in the process. “Gem’s only tired. His legs hurt. He needs an

escort back to his rooms.”

“Right away.” Bo calls to the other soldiers, clearly relieved to be rid

of our prisoner. He’s spoken to Gem a few times, but never more than a

word or two. Gem obviously makes him uncomfortable. I know Bo would

welcome an excuse to tell his father I shouldn’t be allowed to work with the

Monstrous anymore.

That knowledge makes me careful to remain calm as I call—

“Gem?”

“Yes, my lady?” The words are crisp, cutting in their politeness. I’m

the one who told him he must call me “my lady” when other people are

around, but at the moment I hate the sound of the words.

“Will you come to work tomorrow?”

“You’re the queen, my lady,” he says. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I want to ask.” I mimic his sugary tone exactly, down to the hint of a

snarl hiding beneath. “Wouldn’t your chief ask?”

“I don’t know, my lady. My chief doesn’t keep slaves.” He shuffles

away, the rattle of his chains banishing any whisper of protest.

He’s right. He is a slave. But what can I do to change that, when I’m

not much more than a slave myself? I can work on this healing garden and

do what I can to help my people, but I will never fundamentally change

Yuan. In a city bought with blood, certain things will never change. Can

never change. If they did, the city and her bickering people and hungry

roses would cease to exist.

I fold my arms around myself, cold despite the layers I put on before

leaving the tower. I’m always cold, lately. There never seems to be enough

fire or hot tea or ginger soup to thaw the things frozen inside.

“What’s wrong?” Bo’s hand warms my knee. He’s settled down to sit

on the ground beside me, a strange thing for a soldier to do, but I’m

grateful. I’m not ready to stand. “Are you really all right?”

“I told you, I’m fine.” I smile to soften the frustration in my voice.

“Gem and I had a disagreement. Nothing to worry about.”

“A monster shouldn’t quarrel with a queen.”

“Why not?” I laugh my new bitter laugh. My parsnip laugh—sour and

gritty. “Everyone else does. Even Needle, and she can’t speak.”

“Do you want a new maid?” he asks, making my heart skip a beat. “I

know a wonderful girl, a noble, who mentioned she’d be honored to—”

“No, no,” I hurry to say. “I love Needle. She’s devoted to me. It’s

nothing like that. It’s …” I brush the hair from my face with an angry whip of

my fingers. “Forget I said anything. Please. I’m not myself.”

“Are you ill?”

“No, I …” My stone-filled pockets suddenly feel heavier. “I’m

just … tired.”

“And dirty.” Bo cups my chin in his hand. “I’ve never seen a lady of

the court who enjoys dirt as much as you.”

“I’m not a lady of the court. I’m a lady of the tower.”

“Not anymore,” he says.

“Always.” I turn my head, breaking contact. His touch still makes me

nervous, and his hands feel even softer than usual.

“Isra …” His sigh blasts my neck like a wave of heat from the fire. I

curl away, brushing my ear with my shoulder. “I need to tell you something.

I think … I wanted to ask …”

My pulse picks up. Have I been wrong about Junjie and Bo waiting

until my mourning is over? What if Bo asks me to marry him right here,

right now? What will I do? What will I say?

I will say yes, of course, but how? Should I say I hope we’ll be

friends? That I hope our marriage will be a happy one? That I look forward

to our wedding day—but not our wedding night, because I’ve heard he has

a reputation with the ladies at court, and that petrifies me, because how

will a girl whose entire experience consists of one wet kiss ever compare to

all the girls, and women, he’s already been with?

No. I can’t say that. Of course I can’t.

I lick my lips, preparing to give him his answer and hoping it comes

out right.

And then he asks, “Does your maid take breakfast with you?” and I

feel like a fool.

“Excuse me?” My forehead wrinkles.

“Does Needle take food or drink from your tray?”

“No. Needle has her own tray.” I don’t understand what he’s getting

at, but I don’t see any harm in telling the truth. “It’s brought before mine.

She wakes early.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says in his stone-plunking voice.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t drink your morning tea.”

Plunkier still. “What?”

“Stop drinking your morning tea. Get rid of it,” he whispers, leaning

close enough for me to smell the cabbage on his breath. “Pour it into the

plants on your balcony or into your bed pot or someplace no one will think

to look.”

The casual mention of my bed pot makes me cough awkwardly into

the crook of my arm. I’m far from shy, but I’ve never discussed my bed pot

with anyone. Ever. “And why should I do that?”

“So that no one will realize you’re not drinking it.”

My skin crawls beneath my shawl, but I refuse to scratch it. “Are

you …” I swallow, shaking my head as I understand what he’s implying. “No.

No one would try to poison me. I’m the queen. I have no husband, no

children. If I die now, the city—”

“Not all poisons kill, Isra.” He takes my hand, his thicker, fatter

fingers cushioning my longer, thinner ones like ten little pillows. “I may be

wrong, but please, indulge me. Pour out the tea for a week, maybe two.

That should be enough to know.”

“Know what?”

“I think you’ll see,” he says, a smile in his voice. “I hope so, anyway. I

hope many things for you.”

“What kind of things?” I ask, a little breathless.

“You’ll see,” he repeats in that same cryptic tone.

“Bo, I …” I pull my hand from his. I want to believe Bo has my best

interests at heart, but the idea that someone has been poisoning me … it’s

too strange. I feel fine, the same as I always have. Mostly.

Except for the exhaustion. And the creeping certainty that winter will

never end. And the troubling stretching of my bones, and the dresses with

popped seams.

Could that be it? Could someone be slipping something into my tea

to accelerate my mutation? Is that why I grew nearly three centimeters and

put on ten catties in the past two months? Gem and I are planning to grow

herbs and roots that will impede mutation. It makes sense that plants exist

that would amplify the process.

I want to ask Bo if that’s what he believes is happening, and why

someone might do such a thing, but I can’t. I can’t discuss my defects with

any whole citizen of Yuan. I am the empress without clothes, and no one

can speak of my nakedness, not even me.

“All right. I’ll do it,” I say, rising to my feet. “I’ll dispose of the tea.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.” I try to smile but can’t. I’ve gone too sour.

I’m past parsnip, bittering to a turnip inside. “I should change for dinner,” I

say, backing away.

“Let me escort you.”

“Thank you, but I can find my way. I’d rather go alone.” Or as alone

as I ever am, considering that the guards at the edge of the field will be

shadowing my every move. Since the night I slipped away from them at the

coronation banquet, they’ve been careful not to lose track of me. “I’ll find

you later. In the hall,” I say.

I turn and walk away, counting my steps to the edge of the field. I

wouldn’t really rather go alone. I just don’t want to go with Bo. Or any

other member of court, or any of the soft, silky, whole citizens of Yuan.

I’m filled with a sudden longing for Gem. Only with him is it safe to

be the ugly thing I am. He’s the only one I can talk to, the only one who tells

me anything close to the truth. And now I’ve made him hate me all over

again.

But perhaps I can do something to make amends. Perhaps …

He craves a walk beyond the walls. Maybe I can give that to him. The

state of the Banished camp isn’t the only thing I’ve learned from Bo. I’ve

also learned the location of a hidden gate, the King’s Gate, created to

provide an escape route for the royal family if the city were ever

compromised.

Long ago, there were other domed cities close enough to be reached

on horseback. There was a chance a refugee from Yuan might find

sanctuary before falling prey to sun damage. With a little help from Needle,

I might be able to sneak Gem through the King’s Gate, or perhaps … if I’m

careful … and if Needle agrees to help …

I walk faster, eager to talk to my maid. She’s as excited about the

healing garden as I am. Surely, if I explain my plan and beg and wheedle for

an hour or two, she’ll see that what I propose is the only way.

I have to escape the tower and offer Gem a bargain he can’t refuse,

one that will ensure his return from the desert and keep my Monstrous in

Yuan, where I, for one, feel he belongs.