Of Beast and Beauty - Jay Stacey - Страница 24
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the crops are in, I’ll convince the council to send a portion of what is ours
into the desert.”
“The herbs may take months to work. My people can’t wait that
long.”
“All right,” I say, growing increasingly desperate the longer we linger.
“Then I will send food as soon as I can. I’ll convince my advisors it’s
necessary, a peace offering to keep the Desert People from returning to
free our captive.”
“And who will deliver this peace offering?”
“You will. I’ll talk with Junjie. I’ll persuade him that you can be
trusted to return when your errand is through.”
“Can I?”
“You’re here now,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “You
wouldn’t be if your father’s promise didn’t mean something to you. You’re
honorable. I’ll explain that to Junjie.”
Gem’s laugh is soft but parsnip-bitter all the same. “You think he’ll
listen?”
“I’ll make him listen.” Tightness flashes in my jaw. “I am changed.
Things have happened tonight that …” I swallow, moistening my lips with
my tongue, struggling to keep my voice even. “Things are different now,” I
whisper. “I won’t allow Junjie to rule in my place. When we return from the
desert, I will join the council meetings. I will speak to the people and hear
their complaints myself. I will not sit quietly by. I will fight for a place in this
city, and I will fight for those who have served me well. Help me, and I will
help your people.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “You sound almost like a queen.”
“I will behave like one. I swear it,” I say, ignoring the guilty prickle at
the back of my neck.
Gem could never guess how good the chances are that I won’t be
around to keep my promise. And I can’t tell him. I can’t. Especially with the
roses hovering behind us like carrion birds, watching, waiting for a sign that
it’s time to swoop down and feed.
“Please. I’ll beg if I—”
“Where is this secret door?” Gem asks, taking my hand.
My fingers startle open before tightening with a grateful squeeze. I
find myself comforted by his calloused palm in a way I never am by Bo’s
softness. Gem is going to help. He has given me hope, and I swear to myself
that I will give the same to his people. I will. I will live to honor my promise
to him, and hopefully many more.
“This way.” I start toward the orchard, still holding his hand. “There’s
a small gate, the King’s Gate, beyond the village green, past the cornfields,
near the granaries. It’s no more than a door, really,” I whisper as we hurry
through the trees. “I’ve never been through it, but I’m told it’s hidden
behind—”
Gem jerks my arm—hard and sudden—sending a flash of pain
through my shoulder. I stumble back, and his arms are suddenly around
me, his hand covering my mouth, muffling my rush of breath as our bodies
collide. I stiffen but don’t pull away. I stand perfectly still, ears pricking.
I press my lips together and nod, and Gem’s hand drops from my
mouth, but his arms remain around my waist, holding me close as the scuff,
scuff of boots sounds behind us.
Soldiers. On the path we left only moments ago.
My stomach turns itself inside out beneath Gem’s hand. What if
we’re spotted? I’m assuming it’s darker beneath the trees, but that’s only a
guess. My world is always dark, without variation. I can’t know whether it’s
better to hide in the shadows or run for the green and hope the soldiers
don’t notice our footsteps. I have to trust that Gem has made the right
decision, that standing frozen like statues will keep us safe.
But I do trust him. He doesn’t want to be caught. If the soldiers find
him with the queen pinned to his chest, they won’t hesitate. They’ll throw
their spears. Aim for Gem’s heart. Hope to kill him before he kills me.
They won’t take the time to see that Gem’s claws aren’t extended,
that his arms are gentle around me, or that my fingers linger over his. They
won’t notice that I lean into him, not away, or that my head turns to look
over my shoulder, bringing my cheek so near his mouth that his silent
breath warms my skin. They would never in a thousand years imagine that
my eyes slide closed and a shiver runs through me not because I fear for my
life but because Gem’s body is pressed against mine, because his hand on
my belly makes it ache, because the longing to taste him is stronger than it
was before.
If Gem and I were alone, and I were the kind who cared for nothing
but my own pleasure, I would turn in his arms. I would arch my back and tilt
my head and press my lips to his. I would kiss him the way Bo kissed me in
the royal garden. I would not fear his teeth. I would not think how strange
it is for tongues to touch. I would not think about cabbage. I would kiss him
until I was breathless.
“They’re gone,” Gem whispers.
My eyes fly open. I exhale sharply, wondering why the news that
we’re safe makes my heart beat even faster.
“Isra …” Gem’s hand curls, and the tips of his fingers press deeper
into my stomach, and suddenly my long underwear and two layers of
overalls are not enough protection from his touch. I shudder, and the world
shifts, and I fill to the brim with a feeling I’ve never felt before. It bubbles
inside me until a soft sigh of pain escapes my lips.
Pain, because I’m not stupid. I know what this feeling is.
King Deshi’s love songs were the first melodies I learned to play on
my harp. My teacher, Biyu, taught me the chords—sitting behind me with
her fingers guiding mine—and Father taught me the words. Baba and I
would sing some of the songs together before it was time for me to go to
bed, but there were some I was too embarrassed to sing with him. Even at
ten or eleven, I realized not all love songs are about the way love affects a
heart. They’re about the way love affects the body, about a hunger that has
nothing to do with food. King Deshi’s metaphors aren’t so clever that I
couldn’t guess their meanings.
The pelican with its “pulsing beak” was no pelican.
Needle told me how it is with a man and a woman and the “beak”
and the “flower” not long after my first blood. Baba thought I was too naive
to understand, but I wasn’t.… I …
Baba.
My lungs turn to stone, trapping my next breath and holding it
prisoner. He’s gone. It hits me all over again. My chest feels like it’s caving
in, my throat threatens to collapse, and the only thing keeping the heat
behind my eyes from spilling over is knowing how little I deserve to cry.
If my father could see me now, he would be sickened to the depths
of his being. I am even more wrong than I suspected. Wrong.
The most accomplished lover in Yuan kissed me, long and deep, and
continues to do his best to seduce me, and I feel nothing but vague
curiosity and more pronounced anxiety. Now a beast from the desert
stands too close, and I am dizzy with wanting him. I crave his calloused
hands on me. I want to be pinned beneath him the way I was that first
night. But this time he wouldn’t be angry, and I wouldn’t be scared. I would
be eager. Because I am twisted. Tainted. Wrong.
My stomach rebels. I taste stomach juices and the beet soup I forced
down my throat at dinner, and barely swallow it down.
I twist free of Gem’s arms, and stumble to the edge of the green
before stopping to bury my face in my hands. I concentrate on the smell of
the jasmine perfume at my wrists, the contrast of my breath warming my
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