Unblemished

by Sara Ella

  “You’ll find everything you need in here. Hot, pressurized water from the spring and clean clothes. Just leave your old ones on the floor and I’ll get them washed. Feel free to use anything in those bottles and holler if you need something else.” She blinks. A sliver of yellow surrounds her blue irises. Funny how those little things are easier to pick up on after knowing someone’s secret.

  I nod a silent thank-you. Step inside. Lock the door. A small window over the claw-foot tub admits the morning light. I draw the embroidered curtains and sit on the tub’s edge. My brain is worse than my locker at school, all unorganized emotions and unfinished thoughts. I shuffle through the piles, selecting what I’m certain of.

  Mom. My top priority, all things aside.

  Joshua. Wrong. Certain is the last word I’d use to describe him. Try nine letters, a synonym for enigma. Conundrum. Mom, the ultimate crossword junkie, would be so proud.

  Ky. Not as perplexing as Joshua, but still an ambiguity. He saved my life. Three times. He’s proven I can trust him, but is it really so easy for us to switch from enemies to friends in such a short period?

  Guess I’ll find out.

  I peel away my clothes piece by piece, the layers of me. Ky’s jacket, smelling like him, a scent I’m growing more accustomed to. Fall. My shirt, the one I wore the first time Joshua held my hand in the subway. Flutter. Mom’s Uggs, the ones she may never wear again. Thud. My jeans, the ones Mom bought me even though they were way too expensive. Drop. Every article represents something, a significant moment, a fraction of my heart.

  A mirror on the back of the door confirms my fears. My hair is a tragedy, dry, the ends splitting. Without a flat iron or product, it cascades from my unconditioned scalp in kinked waves. My face is plain aside from the birthmark, my brown eyes lost without shadow or liner. I just stare at myself. This is me. Deal with it.

  After I bathe, smelling of lavender and rosemary, I survey the clothes Lark set out. They remind me of Robyn. A long-sleeved, cream-colored peasant top and a knee-length eggplant pinafore dress. Between the folds rests a braided leather tie. At the bottom of the stack, a pair of gray knit leggings and a cardigan made from the same material. A bra and underwear, plain white, thin, complete the ensemble. The bra is one piece, with no clasps or underwire. I slip it on. It’s so light I feel as if I’m wearing nothing at all. The rest of the outfit hangs off my frame. Too long. Too baggy. At least I’ll be comfortable.

  Next I turn to the sink, a mini version of the tub. A twig with its top bark peeled away to reveal strings of softer sapwood lies on the counter. A toothbrush? I lift the faucet and wet the bristles, then scrub my teeth from back to front. Brush, spit, rinse. Brush, spit, rinse. I dab a bit of the peppermint oil from the basket on my tongue for good measure. I suck a breath through my teeth. Strong.

  Before I leave this momentary haven and brave an encounter with Joshua, I glance in the mirror once more. What do I do with my hair? I scan the tiny bathroom and spot a wooden brush. I run it through my tangles, then fashion a diagonal French braid, securing it with the leather tie. Quinn showed me how to do it once, insisting I stop wearing my hair in my face. It’s a really pretty style on her. On me, it just looks as if I’m posing.

  Lark waits in the front room, her lips a flat line. “Breakfast is on the porch.” She nods toward the door. “You two have a lot to discuss.”

  I gulp and head outside. She can only mean Joshua. How does she know we need to talk? Did he say something to her?

  He’s waiting for me, sitting on one of the Adirondack chairs, silent as a musical rest. When he sees me, his eyes widen.

  I bite my lower lip. What’s he thinking? Is he finally realizing how ugly I am with my hair pulled off my face?

  Crud. Thinking I could confront him was easy in the shallows of the bathroom. So much harder in the ocean of his eyes.

  “El.” His voice rasps. He coughs.

  I fiddle with a button on my sweater. It comes loose and falls to the porch. Tick. “Joshua.”

  “You look . . . different.”

  Great. He’s speaking in guy-code. “Er, thanks.” I guess.

  He leans forward. He’s looking at me but in an unseeing way. “We should talk.”

  Wait, wasn’t talking my idea? “I agree.” I take the chair across from him.

  A tray on a low table between us holds a continental-style breakfast. Rolls like the ones Ky and I shared last night, muffins, berries, pine nuts, boiled eggs, a bowl of granola. A pitcher of milk and a steaming teakettle wing the spread. I grab a muffin and pick at the top, the best part. Mmm, like bran, but sweeter and not as mealy.

  In the square, down the cobbled lane, life emerges. A woman in an apron beats a rug outside the notions shop. A boy and girl play tag, zigzagging around her. The butcher turns the sign in his window to the Open side, and the baker holds his door for an elderly man, the aromas of butter and yeast floating past their smiling faces. And I thought no one here ever came outside.

  “Eliyana,” Joshua starts, tearing at a roll, “what happened last night . . . with Kyaphus . . . it can’t go any further. Do you understand?” He shreds the bread, crumbs falling to his feet scrap by scrap. Anyone else might think a bird pecked it to death.

  I narrow my eyes. “What exactly are you accusing me of? Ky saved me, which is more than I can say for you.” But it’s not Joshua’s fault Ky is immune to Slumbrosia. My anger doesn’t appear to influence him.

  “As an Ever I’m susceptible to being drugged. But the effects don’t last long on me. I left the moment it wore off, but then I saw you two . . . together.”

  “I was cold. He gave me his jacket, put his arm around me. It didn’t mean anything.” Does he think I’m some ninny, flitting from one guy to the next? Unbelievable.

  Every muscle in his face hardens, a chiseled sculpture. “I know it meant nothing to him. I’m concerned it meant something to you.”

  Right. Because no guy could possibly be attracted to me in that way. “No.” Pause. “Of course not.”

  He drops the last bit of roll to the ground, brushes his hands on his thighs. “Guardians are trained to do whatever it takes to protect their charges. Lie. Cheat. Kill. Anything really.” His tone is Novocain. He almost sounds like . . .

  Jasyn.

  This isn’t happening. “I don’t believe you.” My hand trembles. Vision blurs. I clench my fist, my nails digging into my cut. This is so not going as planned. Keep it together. “You’re lying now. You can’t stand the idea of me being with someone besides you.” I test the words, relishing the way they sound, the sense they make.

  His voice remains even. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe—”

  I shoot from the chair, nearly knocking over the table when I bump it with my shin. That’ll leave a bruise. “You care about me. You can’t stand there and tell me the past three years meant nothing. Even if it was your job, I know what I felt between us. No one is that good an actor.”

  The remainder of my muffin crumbles to the ground. I’m pacing now, trying desperately to believe my own rebuttal. “I heard Makai. He said he thought you’d fallen for me. I couldn’t believe it then, couldn’t fathom you might actually want to be with me. But you know what?” I point a finger in his emotionless face. “Now I’m starting to think he was right. You act one way with me and another around everyone else. This hot-and-cold act isn’t you. The Joshua I fell in love with isn’t a liar, no matter how well trained he might be to do so. You feel something for me, too, but you’re scared, of what, I don’t know.”

  My emotions hyperventilate. I just told Joshua I love him. I search his face for a reaction. A sign my admission has an effect. Instead I receive a patronizing stare. Nothing to indicate he heard me or understands the epicness of what I’ve said. The amount of courage it took to do so.

  “El, calm down.” He stands, too, touches my elbow. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You are not in love with me.”

  I flinch away as if burned. People a
re staring at us now, stopped to watch our soap-opera exchange. “Yes.” No turning back now. “I am.”

  “Listen,” he says, words hushed, eyes unapologetic. “Everything I’ve done is because . . .” Here it is. He’s finally going to admit it. “. . . I swore to protect you. I have to protect you, and if that hurts your feelings, I’m sorry, but it’s the way it has to be.”

  “Why? Why does it have to be that way?”

  He thrusts his hands in his pockets. “I took an oath, ‘To the Crown until Death.’ I had to get close to you to keep you safe. That meant getting you to trust me. It was obvious you had a crush on me. The best friend bit seemed the easiest route to take.” He doesn’t even blink. The way he’s looking at me, as if he pities me, makes my blood roil. “When you tried to kiss me after your mom . . . I knew I’d gone too far. A kiss would’ve destroyed everything.” He clears his throat.

  “Oh, don’t stop. Let me know how you really feel.” My pulse thunders in my ears. Black and red spots dart past my eyes.

  Joshua’s mouth goes slack. “I am telling you.”

  Blink. Breathe. Get ahold of yourself. “Does this have something to do with my connection to the Verity’s vessel?”

  “No.” His eyebrows arc high, rippling his forehead. “It has everything to do with it. I thought you said your bond was explained.”

  “It was.” Or so I thought. “Our souls are connected. Bound souls always find each other. I’m the only one who can find him.”

  He exhales, leans against a wooden beam. “And how are you planning to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I thought it would be something that just . . . happened.” Sounds stupid now, saying it aloud. Why didn’t I ask more questions? Oh right, I was practically on my deathbed when Robyn and Wade relayed their tale.

  “You are not going to find the vessel.”

  “Oh? And why not?”

  “Because he doesn’t want to be found. Think about it. What’s keeping him from standing against Crowe? From taking what’s rightfully his?”

  I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again and say, “I—I don’t know.”

  “The vessel linked himself to you.” He points a finger. “Not the other way around. It’s where the mark came from, why everyone believes you will lead them to their savior. Everything you feel, the vessel feels. Pain. Sorrow. Love. He’s given up everything for you. So long as he stays hidden, Crowe won’t try to kill you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Crowe knows if he kills you, the vessel will die. Then the Verity will find a new soul to cling to. Crowe doesn’t want that. His plan is to capture the Verity when it leaves its current home. Then he can imprison it just as the Void had been before Crowe released it.”

  Holy Verity, I need to sit down. I reach out, grab the arm of the Adirondack chair, lock my elbow. “So what you’re saying is . . . all this time the rebels have been in hiding, while more people become Soulless and this Reflection is shrouded in shadows, it’s all because of . . . of me?”

  No, no, no, no. Mom’s capture. Ky’s debt to Crowe. Now this? How much blame can one person take? “Because the vessel of the Verity has been protecting . . . me?” Impossible. “Why would anyone do that? Why sacrifice so much to be linked to one person? Who is that saving?” My shrill voice scratches. I pour myself a glass of milk and drink, the fresh liquid coating my throat.

  Joshua blinks twice. “You. It’s saving you.”

  I set the glass down, dab my mouth with a napkin. “I thought you said if I die, the vessel dies.” Make up your mind.

  “I did. But if that happens, you will live.”

  Now he’s lost me. I lower myself into the chair, palm my forehead. “In what Reflection does what you just said make sense?”

  “When the vessel linked his soul to yours, he was choosing your life over his own.” Joshua paces, boots clunking over the creaky porch. “Think of him as a replacement, a substitute, a second chance, a get-out-of-death-free card.” He stops. “His life would be taken in place of yours.” Resumes pacing. “Crowe is no fool. He won’t harm you until his enemy is captured.”

  “I never asked for this.” I cross my arms, look away.

  He faces me. “I know.” The resignation in his tone is all too familiar. “Soon it will be over.”

  There’s that word again. Over.

  “There’s a loophole.”

  My ears perk.

  “The bond can be broken. The connection was made with your child’s soul, not your adult one . . . two very different things. If the tie isn’t made whole, the vow is annulled when you come of age. As long as you don’t return what’s been given, your connection with the vessel will break when you turn eighteen. His life will no longer be in danger on threat of yours.”

  “Return what’s been given?”

  His lips twitch. “A Kiss of Infinity, or more commonly known to you as ‘the kiss of true love.’ ”

  Okay, Ursula. I roll my eyes.

  “Kisses hold their own power. They create a bond between two people no matter their age. Children, adults—a kiss is a kiss, because love doesn’t change. It matures and grows, but it’s one of those constant things that can’t be explained. It just is. The kiss that gave you the mark was the rarest and most powerful of kisses, more potent than a Kiss of Accord—”

  “Whoa, back up.”

  “Don’t ever give someone a Kiss of Accord unless you’re prepared to bear the full weight of your bargain.”

  “Gage said something about a Kiss of Accord last night. What is it?”

  “There are different kinds of kisses, some stronger than others. The Kiss of Accord creates a physical tie. One only death can break. It’s a contract. If you seal a promise with a Kiss of Accord, a life link is forged. Break the promise and you die.”

  Stormy’s pleas make sense now. She must’ve given Gage a Kiss of Accord. Why else would she betray us? And Haman. Is that what he gave Isabeau? If so, Mom’s in more danger than I thought.

  From the corner of my vision, I spy the road leading out of the Village. Will Makai know where to find us? Has he gone ahead of us to the Haven? “And the Kiss of Infinity?”

  “A kiss as rare as it is powerful.” Reverence coats his tone. “Rare because very few people have the capacity to love that deeply, with no regard for their own life or well-being. Powerful because it binds two souls on such an intimate level, they become indistinguishable from one another—but only if the link is complete.”

  “So as long as I don’t give the king a Kiss of Infinity before my birthday, I’ll be free to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Mom and I can go home?”

  His teeth grind. “Yes.”

  It’s what I’ve wanted from the beginning, isn’t it? But Joshua’s confirmation adds finality. Can I really move on, live a normal life in the Third after everything I’ve witnessed?

  “But until then you must be on your guard. If you give a Kiss of Accord or Infinity before your eighteenth birthday, you’ll place the vessel in danger. He made a promise—his life for yours.”

  His life for mine? I can’t understand this. My own father didn’t want me. Joshua—inhale—doesn’t want me. But the one person who can save the Second from Crowe and the Void is the same person who would die so I can live? Why? There must be some ulterior motive. Something the vessel gains. It can’t simply come down to love. No way.

  “If you link your life to another,” Joshua continues, “and they die, you would die. And if you die—”

  “—the vessel dies.” So I was right. I am dynamite. A death trap for anyone who comes too close.

  Joshua squeezes his eyes shut. “You belong to him.” Opens them. “To him and no one else. For now, at least. My hope is this won’t be the case much longer.”

  The words sink deep. Ky’s term for me is clear. If I belong to the true king, I really am a princess.

  “Which is why you can’t just go throwing yourself at anyone who gives you attention
.”

  His chastisement stings. Is this really what he thinks of me? “If a Kiss of Infinity is as rare as you claim, I wouldn’t worry. And no way am I giving anyone a Kiss of Accord after what happened last night with Stormy.”

  “You don’t understand.” He glances left. Right. Lowers his voice. “Unlike a Kiss of Accord, a Kiss of Infinity isn’t something you decide to bestow. It comes from the deepest part of your soul. Stems from desires and emotions you may not even be aware you possess.”

  I bite my lower lip. I know exactly what I desire. “The only person I want to be with is you.”

  He doesn’t hesitate a breath before he says, “No.”

  Ouch. “Why not? You said after I turn eighteen I’ll be free.”

  “You will be free. I will not.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t do this, Eliyana.” He shakes his head, stares at the sky. “What you’re asking, it isn’t possible.” A curl of hair by his ear catches the light. Dark, dark blue, almost black, blending with his natural color. How did I miss that before?

  “I need to hear you say it, Joshua.” I step closer, crossing the force field he’s constructed around himself these days. The same one I put up after I thought Mom died. It’s as if Joshua and I have switched places.

  “My duty is to the Verity and its vessel. To the people. The rightful king. That means ensuring your safety until your birthday. Nothing more.” His dynamic tenor is gone, replaced by an unrecognizable, droning lament.

  Why won’t he look at me? It can’t all have been a lie. Our afternoons on the roof. That night on Broadway’s stage. The way he held me in the subway. “Say it.” My teeth grind so hard my jaw pops.

  He takes a lengthy breath. With shoulders straight and head erect, he looks me square in the eyes. “I. Do. Not. Love. You.” Joshua holds my stunned stare, chin high.

  “What wounds the heart only serves to make it stronger.”

  If Mom’s words are true, I’ll be Hercules after this.

  I step back, dizzy, the landscape tilting sluggishly. It’s as if this is a scene in a movie playing in slow motion. If this were a montage, the music would be dark, depressing, falling like forever rain. I force myself not to lose it. Steady now. “If that’s how you feel, I guess this is good-bye.” I hold out my hand, waiting.