Of Beast and Beauty - Jay Stacey - Страница 50
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that they have nothing to fear from those who look different.
“Tomorrow, then?” I ask, voice rising sharply as Needle hurries past
me to the tower stair and Gem follows without saying a word.
What have I done? Why does he suddenly seem so cold?
“Gem?” My voice breaks in the middle of his name, betraying how
much it hurts for him to leave this way.
He stops, his entire back rigid, before he turns and walks back down
the hall toward me. He looks angry, furious, and for a moment I’m afraid of
what he’ll say, but he doesn’t say a word. He pulls me into his arms, lifting
me off my feet, silencing my breath of surprise with a kiss.
Kiss. The word is inadequate for urgent hands and bruised lips and
his taste filling my mouth and his breath in my lungs and need strong
enough to rattle my bones, shake me to the core until all I can do is dig my
fingers into his shoulders and hope to survive being so close. It’s wonderful
and awful and all I ever want. Forever. I don’t want it to stop. I never want
him to leave.
He has to leave. I know that, but knowing doesn’t keep my chest
from aching like it will split in two when Gem sets me back on my feet.
“Don’t go,” I whisper, my arms still tangled around his neck.
“Find the covenant,” he says. “If it’s written, you should be able to
read it for yourself. There has to be some way.”
Some way to save me without destroying my city. Some way to spare
his people without sacrificing the safety of mine.
“I’ll ask Junjie to bring it to me tomorrow,” I promise. “We can read it
together.”
He smoothes my hair from my face. “But I’m still learning. I—”
“That’s all right. Needle can read. She can—”
Needle. Oh, no. Oh. No …
The blood drains from my face as I peek around Gem’s wide body to
find Needle standing at the door to the stairs, her eyes fixed on the carpet
and the ghost of a smile on her lips. There’s no chance she missed that kiss,
and still, she’s smiling.
I didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but I do. Instantly.
“Bring it to me, then,” Gem says, backing away. “If there are words I
don’t know, Needle can help.”
I nod and warn them to be careful as they start down the stairs. As
soon as they’re out of sight, I hurry to the balcony to search the moonlit
world far below for soldiers, but there are none in sight. Not on the path
that runs by the tower, not in the cabbage fields, not in the browning stalks
that are all that’s left of the autumn sunflowers.
When the two shadows—one slight and swift, one tall and broad but
no less swift—emerge from the tower, they cross the road unobserved.
Well, almost unobserved.
I observe them. I watch them with the miracle of my new eyes until
they disappear into the field of dead flowers, bound for the orchard beyond
and the royal garden beyond that, where the roses will see them race by,
hurrying to get Gem back into his cell before he’s discovered.
I imagine the way the blooms will twist subtly on their thick stems,
turning their unblinking eyes on my friend and the mutant who kissed me,
and I shiver. What was it Gem said? Something darker … Something darker
was at work.
It isn’t hard to imagine something darker at work in the earth
beneath the roses, something greedy and so desperate for blood that it
refuses to sustain life without taking life in return. Perhaps the covenant
will shed some light on that dark thing’s identity. I will ask Junjie to bring
me the document first thing, before the sun has a chance to rise or his son
has a chance to come knocking at his door telling tales.
And then I will ask for a tour of my city and watch his face very
carefully as he realizes the queen is no longer blind.
TWENTY
GEM
QUEENS. Only queens. Only Isra.
The words repeat over and over as I lie on the hard bed in my cell
with my hands propped beneath my throbbing head. I watch the moonlight
move across the ceiling, and remain sleepless even though my body aches
with exhaustion.
The magic of Yuan might still save my people, but—
Queens.
—if Isra’s right, then the magic doesn’t lie in the roses at all, it lies
in—
Only queens.
—the covenant, and the blood of the queen of Yuan. Once I read the
covenant and learn the sacred words Isra spoke of, I could take her. I could
take her and the roses—
Only Isra.
—to be safe. We could marry according to the Smooth Skin tradition.
From what she’s said, it seems that would be enough to join me to the
magic, allow me to carry on the covenant when she’s gone.
If she’s going to die to save a nation, why shouldn’t it be mine?
Haven’t my people suffered enough? Isn’t it time we had abundance, even
at the cost of a life now and then? Better one life than many. And if she’s
going to die …
If she’s going to die …
Only queens.
I don’t want her to die. By the ancestors, please …
Isra.
—there has to be another way.
BO
“I’M sorry.” My voice is unnaturally loud in the silent room. Father
hasn’t said a word for the past half hour. He simply sits there, turned in his
chair, studying the moonlight shimmering on the lake outside his window,
while I stand at attention before the fire until my shoulders cramp and
sweat runs down the valley of my spine. “Baba, please—”
“You aren’t a child,” he snaps without bothering to look my way.
“Stop using childish words.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” I say, then, “Captain,” because I’m not sure which
he’d prefer now that I’ve disappointed him so completely. I shouldn’t have
told him the truth.
But I had to tell. There was no avoiding it. Isra can see, and she wants
to know why. I wouldn’t be surprised to find her on Father’s doorstep first
thing in the morning. Father would have known soon enough. Better that
he heard it from me.
“I thought I was doing right by my future wife,” I say. “That’s all. I
never meant to defy you.”
He finally turns to me, but I wish he hadn’t. The utter absence of
feeling in his eyes makes my heart lurch. He has never looked at me like
this, even when he used a switch to express his displeasure with his only
son.
“You disobeyed an order from your father, who is also your superior,
and violated the wishes of your former king,” he says, every word as crisp
as the folds ironed into his uniform. My mother irons his clothes herself.
The maids never get the creases quite right, and everything must be exactly
right in my father’s house. Perfect. If not, everyone under his roof pays the
price. “That is the definition of defiance.”
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammer again, hating the whine creeping into my
voice. Father’s right; I sound like a child.
It’s Isra’s fault. I never should have told her about the tea. I should
have let her live out the rest of her life in the darkness. What difference will
it really make? Will sight make her happy, and even if it does, does her
happiness matter? The kingdom doesn’t require her happiness, only her
blood.
“You’re impulsive, Bo. That isn’t a good trait in a king.” Father rises
from his chair and crosses to stand too close, the way he does when one of
his soldiers has stepped out of line. I’ve seen Father break men with
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