Unblemished

by Sara Ella

  “Jasyn found out,” my invisible uncle whispers from somewhere behind. “He’s promised not to harm us—the child, you, me—as long as your mother serves him forever. The terms became binding with a Kiss of Accord.” He nocks each word, letting them soar like arrows.

  “I have already agreed to your terms.”

  “Mom. How could you do this?” I can’t decide who I’m angrier with. Jasyn for his sick, twisted bargain. Or Mom for agreeing to it. “If you’d just waited a little while longer, my rescue would’ve been your ticket out. You could’ve taken the baby and disappeared.”

  She blinks back tears. “I’m tired of running. What I saw in you before you returned for the boy, it ignited something within me. I’ve spent eighteen years hiding, cowering, always looking over my shoulder. No more. If you can be brave, so can I.”

  Covering my hand with hers, she faces forward. I want to tell her it will be over soon. Jasyn will be dead, the Void captured, and her agreement will no longer matter. But I can’t. My burdens do not belong to anyone else but me.

  The quartet stops, and a hush swathes the crowd.

  Movement along the first balcony demands my attention. Every few feet a Soulless steps forward, brandishing a trumpet and raising it to his lips.

  In unison, the trumpets blast a brief overture, encored by an echoing silence.

  “Get ready,” Mom says. “He’s here.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  So Much of Me

  Showtime.

  Two tuxedoed Soulless roll a red carpet from the top of the grand staircase all the way to the throne. The edge flushes with its feet.

  Jasyn steps to the room’s summit, dressed to the nines in a 1920s-style tux complete with tails and white gloves. He descends, surveying the crowd, taking his time as if wanting everyone to catch a glimpse of his splendor.

  Get over yourself already.

  Once atop the dais he rotates and spreads his arms wide. “My people,” he bellows with bravado. “I am so glad you could join us.”

  No applause. Nothing aside from the frightened expressions of a community that spent years under this man’s oppression.

  “Please help yourselves to the hors d’oeuvres making their way around the room. The entertainment will begin soon.” I have a good guess his entertainment is just another word for torture. “For now, I invite you all to join me in a celebratory dance to commence this momentous occasion.” Clap, clap.

  An up-tempo waltz straight out of a Jane Austen film leaps from the quartet’s strings.

  Nobody moves.

  “Feeling shy, are we?” Jasyn asks. “Please, I insist.” Pause for dramatic effect. “Dance.” He waves a hand and Soulless come out of the woodwork, withdrawing weapons and coaxing couples into submission. Men and women join hands across the dance floor, one-two-three to the music in perfect, synchronized time. Nobody protests, either too afraid to use their Callings in defense or unable to. Ky said he can’t control Soulless. Does that mean none of the Callings are effective on the creatures once they’ve turned to the Void completely?

  Except . . . mine was. On the beach. Transitioned or in limbo, every soldier halted pursuit when I began my song.

  I scan the crowd for Joshua. Where is he?

  My grandfather turns, smiles at Mom and me. “I must say, I was delighted to hear you had returned. I knew you would, of course.” He offers a gloved hand to Mom. “It would give me great pleasure if you would accompany me in this first dance, Elizabeth.”

  Who does he think he’s fooling?

  Mom folds her arms and avoids his gaze, scowling. “I’d rather be torched by Dragon’s breath.”

  I stifle a snort. Okay, I shouldn’t be laughing, but Mom is awesome.

  His jaw twitches. “That can be arranged.”

  I rise and lay my hand in his. “I’ll dance with you. After today I probably won’t make it to senior prom.” Though the décor does remind me of last year’s winter formal.

  I didn’t have a date—no surprise there—but Mom insisted I go for the experience. Joshua said he’d take me, but as soon as we got into the cab, he hijacked the outing. Whisked me off to Sardi’s for dinner, a reservation he’d apparently made weeks in advance. Afterward we ended up at the Angelika in SoHo, butter greasing our fingertips as we snickered our way through a marathon of the most cringe-worthy movie musicals ever created, including but not limited to Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog and Xanadu.

  I’d welcome another night of laugh-induced tears and stitching side aches over a stuffy dance any day.

  Regaining his composure, Jasyn eyes me, one brow peaked. “All right.”

  Together we walk to the center of the floor. Taking the lead, my grandfather sets a hand on my waist and lifts our joined hands in the air. Blech. Did he pour an entire bottle of cologne on himself this time?

  I reach up and place my fingers on his shoulder, trying to maintain as little contact as possible. He twirls us and, to my awe, I don’t trip or fumble. Much.

  I scan the crowd. Still no sign of Joshua. Is he okay? Has he spent the past week agonizing over what has transpired? Is Jasyn waiting until the proper moment to reveal him?

  “What is distracting you so?” Jasyn dips me back.

  “I was just wondering where Joshua is.” Might as well be honest. “I was hoping to dance with him before—”

  “Before I reveal the true coward he is?”

  I scowl. “He’s no coward. He will capture the Void.”

  “We shall see.” He ceases our waltz. “I will grant your wish, but only if you bestow mine.”

  Uh-oh. “Which is?”

  He withdraws, brushing off his lapel. “I want to see you dance with someone else first. You did bind your life to his, did you not?”

  Jasyn wants me to dance with Ky for his own perverse amusement? I should refuse, tell him where he can shove his sardonic wish. “Fine.”

  “Very good.” He beckons Ky.

  “Yes, Your Sovereignty?” He bows.

  “Dance with the birthday girl, will you? I am going to have a chat with my daughter.” Jasyn takes his perch on the throne.

  Haman stands beside it now, bodyguard and torment commissioner rolled into one. Ebony’s there, too, decked in a ruby miniskirt, a strapless sequined top, and a black leather jacket that halts at her waist. She sits, ankles crossed, in the chair farthest from Mom. When Ebony catches my eye, a haughty grin curls the corners of her mouth.

  Is she really so bent on revenge? Can’t she see what Jasyn’s doing? He has no limits. At some point he’ll inject her with the Void too.

  Ky and I join hands and hips, our legs brushing as we swirl amidst the other couples. He’s actually a good dancer, something I never would’ve surmised from our back-and-forth sway at Blake’s party. The music slows, and our bodies match its cadence. My skin electrifies beneath Jasyn’s gaze. I ignore it. He’s getting his show, but I’m getting something too.

  A good-bye.

  After today it will be over. My intact birthmark proves Joshua loves me. I will become the Void’s new prison.

  Things will never be the same.

  Ky pulls me close, his hand on the small of my back, his mouth at my ear. “Tell me why.” He tilts my chin so our lips are angled toward one another.

  Butterflies emerge from the cocoon in the recesses of my stomach. Flit to my lungs. I exhale their wings.

  I’ve been telling myself our kiss was a fluke. Some unexplainable phenomenon that stemmed from sheer desperation. But a part of me knows it’s not entirely true. Because a Kiss of Infinity is rare. Which means this thing between us is more than I’m allowing it to be.

  I slip away, unable to handle the ache ushered in by the end. “I’m sorry, Ky. I can’t.”

  “Don’t give me that, Em.” His wounded tone is almost enough to draw me back into his arms. “If you’re going to choose him, have the decency to say the words.”

  Get it together. “It’s not about that. I’m not choosing him over you
.” I stare at my feet. Can’t look at him. “I’m not choosing anybody.” Because I’m choosing everybody. Everybody but me.

  He takes my hand. Tugs.

  I look up.

  His expression softens, churning my heart to butter along with it. “You think he really loves you. You expect to take on the Void.” Not questions. Realizations.

  I withdraw farther, eye the floor again. Slam. I whirl.

  Joshua. He’s here.

  “Going somewhere?” His question is for me but his glare darts to Ky.

  Say something. “No.” Twisting fingers. “Nowhere.”

  Ky storms past, bumping Joshua’s shoulder as he goes. He’s misunderstood my reaction. Doesn’t matter. He’s better off without me.

  Unfazed, Joshua takes me in his arms and leads me in our first dance ever. When we touch, relief washes my body. The music transitions again, this time into a Sleeping Beauty waltz. We move effortlessly despite my two left feet. I’ve seen him in dress clothes plenty of times, but somehow he’s managed to deprive my breath once again. He’s sporting a blue-and-white pinstriped shirt beneath a light gray vest and matching tie. The contrast brings out his eyes—eyes secured on me.

  The world blurs, leaving us alone in the vast space. The music strips away too. “Happy birthday,” he says, towing me from my trance. He doesn’t smile.

  “Now it is.” I steamroll a grin over the rubble inside. Wait for the moment. It will come. I spy the dais. Jasyn is in deep conversation with Haman. “Can we go someplace? Alone?”

  He stops. Exhales. I almost think he’ll turn me down, but then he glances left. Right. Over my shoulder. He resumes our dance, ever so stealthily leading us away from the floor’s center. It takes the length of two waltzes to inch through the crowd without drawing attention to ourselves. Once at the wall, we creep along and back, seeking shelter in a cramped, shadowy alcove beneath the stairs.

  Joshua bumps his head on the low, curved ceiling. “I think we’re alone now,” he sings, doing his best Tommy James impersonation.

  The unexpected tune throws me off, and I emit a nervous laugh. The last thing I expected to find beneath these stairs is the easygoing, music-loving boy I fell in love with.

  So much of me wants to respond in melody, but I can’t. “Joshua—”

  “I care for you.” He angles away from me. Combs his fingers through his hair. “That I can’t deny.” His hands are trembling. “But, I’m sorry, I don’t love you.” He hangs his head. “Makai will take on the Void. I wanted to tell you before I do it. I needed you to hear it from me.”

  I touch his shoulder, nudge him to face me. “No. You love me. Don’t you see?” I take his hand and bring it to my right cheek. “My birthmark—mirrormark—it didn’t vanish. It has to mean something. That your love for me goes deep beneath the surface.”

  He lifts his head, eyes searching. “It didn’t vanish?”

  My brows knit. “You didn’t notice?”

  “Well, no.” He scratches the back of his head. A smile plays on his lips. “I could never see it.”

  My breath hitches. He can’t see it? Could never see it? What does this mean?

  Our gazes lock, as if we’re figuring out something we should’ve known all along. Me realizing how Joshua sees me. Him understanding I never knew what he saw—didn’t see.

  As if in slow motion, he draws me in. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You were supposed to have a way out. A chance to have a choice.”

  “This is my choice. It has to be me. You. And me. The Verity and the Void.” I half laugh, half cry at that.

  “I don’t think—” He clears his throat. “I don’t think I can do that to you.”

  “I’m strong enough,” I promise, hoping the words sound true.

  “Maybe,” he breathes. “But I am not. How can I make you the vessel of the Void? What kind of love would that be?”

  “The greatest kind of all.” His heart beat, beat, beats against our hands. “The kind of love that will save this Reflection.” Don’t cry. I need to get this out. “The kind of love . . .” Keep going. Almost there. “. . . that happily ever after lives for.”

  His nose brushes my cheek. Fingers intertwine with mine. He gives no answer, careful as ever not to kiss me.

  “Love me, Joshua. Love me enough to let me go. Let me help you give the people the happy ending they’ve been waiting for.”

  One, two, three breaths. And then . . .

  His mouth pursues mine, and I’m melting, nearly forgetting myself. My chest constricts. Flutters. Despite what must come afterward, this is real. For a moment, I’m going to enjoy it.

  In the beginning it’s soft and hesitant, the way a first kiss should be. We keep our mouths closed, our bodies stiff and distant.

  But that doesn’t last.

  Joshua slides his fingers from mine, finding my cheek with one hand and my waist with the other. He separates my lips with his, and I curve into him as he reaches around and cradles the back of my head with his palm.

  I rise on demi-pointe, exploring the craters and contours of him. The line of his hair. The swell of his shoulder. The dip of his lower back. So strange to know a person one way for so long and still feel as if I’m meeting him for the first time. The newness of it sends little sparking thrills through every nerve ending. My right cheek burns as if ignited. He kisses me and kisses me and kisses me again, as if making up for all the times he’s wanted to and held back.

  This has to end. I want more.

  When Joshua’s mouth leaves mine, it’s too soon. His breaths release in heavy waves, hot on my face. “I love you,” he admits at last.

  Then the shadows take me away.

  THIRTY-SIX

  My Heart

  She believed Tiernan would kill you, so she fled, sought a man named Nathaniel Archer.” Jasyn’s words drift across my heart as I fly through the night.

  I’m bouncing, my arms and legs wrapped in something soft. A blanket? An icy chill pings my ears, and I stir. The jarring movement ceases, and the blanket is tugged around my ears, over my forehead. I feel small. So small.

  Flying? No. I’m being carried.

  Thump, thump, thump. My carrier’s heartbeat races, pounding against my ear as the jolting continues. Judging from her higher-pitched breaths, she’s a woman. Her feet slap the ground. She’s running. Her arms cinch around me. Mmmm, cozy.

  Thud! Thud! Thud!

  Click. Creak.

  “Are you Nathaniel Archer?” Mom’s voice vibrates into me, muffled slightly by the fabric covering my ears.

  My eyelids flutter. A helpless cry escapes without warning.

  Mom’s face hovers above me. She sways, a soothing motion.

  Something in my mouth. Mom’s finger? I suck vigorously, calming.

  “Who wants to know?” Nathaniel asks in a gruff voice.

  This isn’t a dream. It’s a memory. I’m a baby, remembering something impossible for me to recall. I will myself to focus.

  “And if I refuse?” Nathaniel asks.

  Refuse what?

  Mom’s chest heaves, pressing against my frame. “Then we’re both already dead.”

  We’re moving again. Whine. Snap. It’s warmer. We must be inside, the door closed. Mom shifts. Floorboards groan as she shuffles forward.

  It’s dark. So dark.

  Fizz. A match strikes. Hiss. An orange glow washes the ceiling. I only see Mom.

  “Father, who is this?” Makai, has to be. He sounds younger, but it’s him.

  “Ask her,” Nathaniel harrumphs, as pleasant as ever. “Claims to be running from Tiernan. As far as I’m concerned, you can tell my younger son until he returns what he stole, I’ll have nothing to do with him.” Having met him, seen the sadness in his eyes, I recognize the wrench in Nathaniel’s voice as grief, not hatred. Despite Tiernan’s actions, Nathaniel loved his younger son.

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” Mom adjusts me in her arms. “But I promise you I’ve had no part
in his crimes.”

  “Please forgive my father.” Makai sounds closer now. “He is not used to hosting guests.”

  An inward smile spreads across my middle. I wish I could see my uncle’s face. Would I be able to discern his admiration for Mom even then?

  “Yes, well.” The defense in her tone relaxes. “I understand your hesitation. Tiernan is not the most trustworthy person in the Second.” Her voice hitches at that. Is the admission painful? “What reason would you have to believe me?”

  “May I see?”

  I’m shifting, turning. Makai’s face fills my vision. He’s younger. No specks of gray streak his hair, and the lines on his face are not so pronounced.

  “The child is my brother’s. Isn’t she?”

  “Y-yes.” A crack in Mom’s voice. “He mentioned this place once. I have no one. I wasn’t sure where else to go.”

  “You cannot stay here,” Nathaniel calls from a distant corner of the room. “There’s a nice cave deeper into the island. Perhaps you and the child can make a home there.”

  “Father!” Makai scolds, whipping his head in Nathaniel’s direction.

  The loudness startles me, sends me wailing again.

  Mom coos. Moisture crests her eyelashes. “Please,” she whispers. “If Tiernan finds us, I’m afraid he will kill my daughter. And my father . . . I’m not sure we’re safe around him either.”

  “Why?” I could kiss Makai for his kindness. Every single compassionate word trumps ten of Nathaniel’s insolent ones.

  I quiet.

  “He’s very old-fashioned,” she explains, further hushing her tone. “My indiscretions would be an embarrassment to him. Aside from that, he has released the Void. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  “Your father is Jasyn Crowe.” It’s not a question. Makai strokes my forehead, but his eyes remain fastened on Mom.

  Mom nods. “My father has never harmed me, but I cannot risk it. I cannot stay there.”

  “Who helped you escape?”

  Huff. “I was raised in the castle. I know my way around.”

  She was only sixteen. It must’ve been difficult for her to prove her independence, her credibility, to these two men when she was just a kid herself. I have to give her credit. Even under Nathaniel’s skepticism and Makai’s kind but unsure questioning, she’s holding her own.