Star-Crossed

by Pintip Dunn

  He shoves me back against the beam. “Nobody asked me if I wanted to give up two-thirds of my life. You got to choose, but I didn’t. My father made the decision for me. He threatened to throw me out of the bubbles if I didn’t get the genetic modification. And then, as soon as I became an Aegis, he had to go and die, breaking my mother’s heart. I’m all she has, and I’m not leaving her, too.”

  I pull my hands against the binding, and the rope rubs against my skin. He didn’t answer my question. I need to steer him back to the topic. I need to get him talking about the King. “Is that why you want to be Successor? So you can extend your life?”

  “Among other reasons. I’d also make a pretty good king, if I say so myself.” He leans over and touches my cheek. “You were a good friend to me. But the only things I ever got in this life were by taking them for myself. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  He strides back to the cage and pulls off the blanket. The bees buzz angrily, as if they can’t wait to be let out.

  “Wait!” I jerk my hands, and blood trickles down my wrist. Try harder, Vela. Try. Harder. “I found Zelo and his silver disc. Whatever your end game is, it’s not going to work. We’re going to uncover the true Fittest, and it’s not going to be Carr.”

  Denver sighs. “Oh, cuz. I didn’t want my plans to come to this. All you had to do was take some unethical action to yank Carr out of the race. The council was already wary of you. Everybody knows you always put your heart above your principles. You just had to prove one last time that you will always bend the rules when it comes to those you love, and the council would’ve disqualified you for good.” He runs his fingers against the mesh cage, caressing his pets. “Everything I did was to help you along. Fixing CORA so that Carr was named the Fittest. Poisoning the King in order to speed up the transplant.”

  I release my pent-up breath. Finally. He confessed. The security teams will bound in here any second, to save me and arrest Denver.

  Except they don’t.

  “I have to say, I’m impressed.” He picks the veil off the table and slips it on his head. “I never thought you had this kind of backbone. But if you won’t take yourself out of the running, I’ll have to do it for you. Lucky for me, I specifically cultivated these bees to be aggressive.”

  He smiles at me through the mesh, his lips distorted and cruel. My entire body turns to ice.

  He opens the hatch to the cage. The one with the hundreds and hundreds of bees. They pour out of the opening.

  And head straight in my direction.

  Chapter

  Forty-Three

  Time slows to a creep. I can see each flap of the bees’ iridescent wings. Hear each distinct buzz. Feel the flutter of air against my face, as the bees fly closer and closer to me.

  My father was right. My mind whirls hysterically to my mother’s limp body, swollen with hundreds of bites. I do look more like her every day. I’m not allergic to bees, like she is, but with enough stings, I’ll be just as bloated. Just as dead.

  The bees approach. They’ve covered half the distance between the cage and me now. The same mantra cycles in my head: Astana’s dead. Denver killed her. I’m next. Astana’s dead. Denver killed her. I’m next.

  The bees fly closer still. One detaches from the pack, buzzing in my face as if it’s not sure what to make of me. Are you a foundation beam or a hunk of flesh?

  A beam! Nothing to sting here!

  But the sweat gives me away. It pours off my body, soaking my caftan, wetting my hair.

  More bees surround me. Through the swarm of their thick, fuzzy bodies, I see Denver standing by the cage. I can no longer decipher his expression behind the veil, but his hands are clasped, waiting. He wants to make sure the bees do their job.

  Where is security? Did the amplifier work? Is anyone coming?

  No. It’s been too long. I’m on my own here.

  And I’m not ready to die.

  I yank against the bindings with all my strength. With every rage that’s simmered in my belly. With every passion that’s stirred in my heart. I pour every emotion that I’ve ever felt into my arms, into my hands, into my wrists.

  Try. Harder.

  I pull with my shoulders, I tug with my core arching against the beam, I heave with my feet bracing against the dirt.

  Try. Harder.

  This is the man who killed Astana. And he will not kill me, too. Not like this.

  Try. Harder.

  The rope gives, just as a bee stings me on the neck. The shriek that rips through my body propels me forward. Before Denver can blink, I launch myself toward his torso, knocking him over. We fall to the ground, and I pull the veil away from his head.

  The bees begin their attack.

  Denver bellows, batting at the insects against his face. But it’s too late. Even as I watch, bees swarm his face, so that I can barely make out a patch of skin. Satisfaction rushes through me for one glorious moment—and then my body goes up in flames. I feel like I’m bathing in a pool of lava. Everything screams, long and loud and never-ending. My neck. Forehead. Cheeks. Every square inch of skin not covered by my caftan.

  I, too, flail my arms, trying to get the bees away. I press my exposed face into the dirt, squashing the insects that linger there. I roll my body, over and over again, trying to dislodge their companions. But it’s no use. My few uncoordinated movements will not detract the bees from their purpose: stinging me to death.

  This is the end. I try to think of the people I love. Carr. My father. Even Blanca. But I can’t. The pain blots out everything else, and my entire body turns into one giant howl.

  My last clear thought is: if I must leave this life, at least I’m taking Denver with me.

  Chapter

  Forty-Four

  After a while, the screaming stops. My skin continues to throb, a live, pulsing thing, but I’m not getting any new stings.

  I open my eyes. The bees hang in the air, stupefied. They fly drunkenly in small circles before crash-landing to the floor. The glasshouse is filled with the black uniforms of the security team, spraying the bees with gas canisters and securing cuffs around Denver. At least, I think it’s my cousin—his features are so swollen that he is unrecognizable.

  Finally.

  Master Somjing creaks down in front of me, blinking. “Princess Vela, are you okay?”

  “What took you so long?” I try to say, but my mouth isn’t working right. Neither is my mind. They both feel slow, sleepy, lazy. Either I’m experiencing the after-effects of the stings, or I inhaled some of the gas meant for the bees.

  “You used your handprint to open the door. The royal override locked up the system for ten minutes.” Master Somjing signals to someone behind me. The two of them pull me into a standing position. “There was nothing we could do to reach you before the ten minutes was up, short of blasting through the glass walls. We were afraid the flying shards of glass would kill you.” He pauses. “We had to physically restrain Carr when we saw Denver tie you against the beam and release the bees. It’s a good thing you got free. The only reason you’re still alive is because you managed to kill half the bees attacking you.”

  The words float in my head. I can make sense of one out of every three or four. I fall forward, into a pair of familiar arms. Carr. He was the one Master Somjing signaled. The one they had to physically restrain. Somehow, some way, he found out about my mission and came along for the rescue.

  “How did you—?” I start to ask.

  “Shhh. It doesn’t matter right now.” He gathers me gently against his chest. “All that matters is that you’re safe.”

  He stands and carries me out of the glasshouse. I want to protest. I can walk—I think. I’ve just got bleeding wrists and a dozen stings. And this ridiculous sleepy head.

  But his even gait lulls me, and his body is warm and snug around me. Finally, I relax. Yes. I’m safe now. It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.

  …

  I wake to the faint, rhythmic beeping of a m
achine. A clamp is fastened over my pointer finger, and my skin feels sticky, as if it’s been smeared with fruit preserves.

  I dreamed again of the serpent. It attacked me over and over, sinking its fangs into the flesh of my neck and face. Does that explain the aches? The pieces of white gauze decorating my skin?

  And then, I remember. Denver, not the serpent. Bees stings, not fangs. I’m in the medical facility, recovering, and my cousin is in the red cells.

  Last time I saw Denver, he was being cuffed. The entire security team heard his confession. I trust that Master Somjing will make sure he’s put away for a long time.

  Good. I expect a burst of triumph to shoot through me, but instead, the backs of my eyes prick again. Justice, no matter how satisfying, will never bring Astana back.

  I lean against the pillow, my heart pinning me to the mattress. I drown in memories of my best friend. Her mouth a perfect O when she first tasted a strawberry. Her mischievous laugh that turned every head in the courtyard. Her soft smile when she forgave me for the very last time.

  I can never bring Astana back, but at least I exposed her killer. I invalidated the Fittest results. I saved Carr.

  The events of the last few days are anchors on either side of my lips. I didn’t think I would ever smile again, but the thought makes me try.

  I saved Carr.

  Not a moment too soon. I grope on the nightstand for my handheld and check the date. The transplant is happening today.

  Today, my father will get the organs he needs to get well again. Today, Carr will be free from being the Fittest, forever. Today, we can start rebuilding the rest of our lives without Astana.

  My lips pull again at the anchors, and this time, I succeed. This time, I do smile. I pull the clamp off my finger and rip the gauze from my wounds. Whatever miraculous jelly the medics used, the stings have shrunk and hardly hurt anymore. How they look is probably a different story. But I don’t pause to glance in the mirror. I don’t care.

  Today I get to revel in the knowledge that everyone I love—at least everyone’s who’s left—is safe.

  …

  When I walk into the control room, the air hiccups. The analysts don’t stop what they’re doing, but their hands jerk on the holo-desks, and they widen their eyes at one another. A couple stare openly at my face. Maybe I should’ve checked out my reflection, after all.

  “Who’s the new Fittest?” I ask the room at large, since they’re all focused on me. “Zelo or Jupiter?”

  Captain Perth clears his throat. “Princess Vela. We’re all pleased you’re looking so well.”

  “Thanks. Me, too,” I say, even though I know he’s lying. The way he averts his eyes is more telling than a mirror. I look a fright. “Has the Fittest been informed? What provisions do we need to make for his family?”

  He takes my arm and walks me to the wall, next to the blinking control panel. But the room is so small that the extra steps don’t give us any more privacy. “The disc is irrevocably water damaged. We can’t retrieve any data from it.”

  My mouth opens. No. That can’t be right. It can’t be. “The disc wasn’t in the water very long.”

  “One moment is all it takes.”

  My breath comes out in funny gasps and pants. I stumble back until I hit the switchboard. Just like my mom’s body. She had 327 stings, when it would’ve only taken one. One sting. One moment. That’s all it takes to destroy a life.

  Carr’s life. And mine.

  “You have to keep trying.” My voice is jerky, like a buzzing bee deciding where to land.

  “We’ve been trying for the last twenty hours.”

  “Try. Harder.” That’s what I’ve done this entire task. I listened to Master Somjing. I gave the challenges everything I had. I broke free from my rope bindings and killed the bees that tried to end me. The result can’t turn out like this, with a water-damaged disc. I refuse. “I’ll talk to Mistress Barnett. Maybe we can delay the transplant a day or two, to give you more time to recover the data—”

  “She was just in here. Your father’s taken a turn for the worse. The transplant can’t be delayed anymore if we want to save the King.”

  His face blurs, and the lights on the control panel blend together. Weights settle on my shoulders, my chest, my back. The pressure pushes in on me from every direction, squeezing me tighter than a trash compactor.

  I want to give up, but a germ inside me won’t let me. The germ grows. Try harder. I’m not back where I started. Denver admitted to fixing CORA. Carr heard him, along with the rest of the security team. I don’t need the silver disc to prove the results are invalid. I have Denver’s confession. Will that be enough to convince Carr to step down?

  “I’m sorry.” Captain Perth’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “It’s never easy to say goodbye. I know the boy is important to you.”

  My lips harden. The confession has to be enough. There’s no other option. “I’m not saying goodbye today. Not if I can help it.”

  …

  I find Carr in a room off the Banquet Hall, a small, windowless unit with just enough space for a table and two stools. He’s sitting in front of a luscious fruit pie. His final request. Two hours from now, the transplant is scheduled to begin.

  I push down on the despair rising in my throat like the tides of Earth. It leaves behind an acerbic aftertaste. Is this how the oceans of our origin planet tasted? A little salt, a little bitter, with a dash of longing and a whole lot of tears?

  “Did you know all the Aegis passed their first meals in here?” I ask.

  “I didn’t know that.” The light in his eyes is just a glimmer of the joy he displayed at Bubble Falls, but I take a mental snapshot anyway. This subtle humor is one more side of Carr, and I treasure every last facet. Especially now.

  “Oh yeah. The young Aegis tend to be overzealous,” I say. “The private room gives them the chance to grab their stomachs and moan in peace.”

  He grins. The scent of strawberries wraps around me and tugs me the rest of the way into the room. Not that I need any urging.

  I wet my lips. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Please.” He pulls out the stool next to his. “I stopped by your recovery unit earlier. You were sleeping, and I didn’t want to disturb your rest.”

  The transplant’s in two hours, I want to shout. Disturb my rest. You should’ve kept me awake all night, the way you did in the cave. We have to make the most of every last second.

  “You haven’t taken a bite?” I ask instead, a surge of hope rising. If he doesn’t want his final request, maybe he’s not planning to go through with the transplant. Maybe he’ll let one of the others take his place. “Are you worried how your body will react?”

  “Nah. I’ll be long gone before my body can feel the effects.”

  Maybe not. The lump in my throat grows so big I nearly choke.

  “All our lives, Astana and I wanted an entire pie to ourselves. It was her daydream more than mine, so I’m going to eat the whole thing for her.” He takes my hand and traces each of my fingertips with his thumb. “But you know what? I’m not thinking about the flavor that’s about to explode on my tongue. Or the juices that will run down my throat, quenching my thirst in a way it’s never before been quenched. All I can think, when I see the strawberries, is how they remind me of the red in your cheeks.”

  I cover my face with my other hand. “Especially now, with all these bee stings.”

  He pulls my fingers down, so both my hands are nestled in his. “You are always beautiful to me, whether you’re covered with mud or bee stings.”

  His lips meet mine, and my tears fall into our kiss. The brushing of our lips is at once the most exquisite and painful thing I’ve ever experienced. He tastes like colored streams of water. Plump worms wriggling in the mud. A shiny red apple with a bite taken out of it. But most of all, he tastes like goodbye.

  I wrench away, and the absence of his lips is so stark it hurts. “I’m not giving up on you. De
nver confessed he manipulated the Fittest results, so we know you’re not truly CORA’s choice. You don’t have to go through with the transplant.”

  He studies me as though I’m trying to trick him. “What did they find on Zelo’s silver disc?”

  “How do you know about Zelo’s disc?”

  “He told me. When he didn’t hear from you last night, he came to the shuttle. They told him you were injured and unavailable, so he came to me.”

  “So you know about Brooklyn…?”

  “Yes. I know he wants to be the Fittest for the same reason as I do. To save someone he loves.”

  I lick my lips. He’s right. I am trying to trick him. Or at least persuade him. I’ll put on a whole magic show if it means I get to keep him. “If you respect his reasons, then you should step down, so he can take your place.”

  He shakes his head. “His daughter needs him. So does Camden.”

  The words are an echo of what I said to Zelo. But now, coming from Carr’s lips, minutes before he dies, I can’t accept them.

  “I need you,” I whisper. “Did you ever think of that?”

  “No, Vela.” He cups my chin in his hands. “You’ve never needed anybody. That’s why I fell in love with you. Why you’re going to be such a good ruler. Because you’ve never listened to anything but your own heart.”

  “Right now, my heart’s begging you to step down.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” He releases my chin. “I’ll go through with the transplant and ask that Brooklyn be the beneficiary of my sacrifice instead of Astana. That way, she can have her life and her daddy, too. The council would agree, wouldn’t they? Now that Astana’s gone, it seems like a reasonable request. Maybe I can even convince them to throw in Hanoi while they’re at it. She was so nice to Astana.”

  My throat closes. His idea is more than reasonable. In fact, it’s the kindest, most noble thing I’ve ever heard. Just like the boy in front of me.

  “That’s besides the point.” I need my voice to be strong and sure, but it comes out shaky and weak. “Zelo wants to be the Fittest—”