by A. W. Cross
She changed tack. “Why are you telling me these things? Me specifically?”
“Because you’re not like the others. You… I don’t know exactly. You just seem different. Look, I’m taking a huge risk here. You could go running to Quinn, or someone, anyone, and tell them the things I’ve said to you. It would get back to the capital and they would come for me, for both of us. So ask yourself, why would I tell you these things if they weren’t true? If I didn’t think you would believe me?”
“Maybe you’re crazy.”
He shrugged. “Or maybe I’m telling you the truth.”
She kept up her interrogation. “Why do they trust you, Cillian? Why have they put you here? Are they not worried that you, or any of the other Collectors, will tell the truth?”
“No. We’ve been promised a place in the capital when our jobs here are done.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I’ve even been promised a new body.”
“So why are you risking it by telling me?”
“Because I don’t believe them. They bought my loyalty with this body. But I heard their promises five years ago, and they haven’t kept a single one. I’m tired of their lies, of what they’ve done to our people.”
“I am too.”
“So you believe me?”
“I didn’t say that. But I am willing to entertain the idea that you might be telling the truth.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. She’d probably seen the cracks in The Vault’s facade herself, whether she was consciously aware of it or not. He’d often wondered if there were those who suspected their lives might not be what they seemed.
“But I need proof.”
Proof? “I—” How? How could he prove it? There was very little evidence in The Vault. And what there was could easily be explained away.
Even as he pushed it away, an idea began to form. It was dangerous, and incredibly risky…but it would give her the proof she needed, and they might not get a chance like this again. “I think I know how I can show you.”
This is mad, Cillian. You could get both of you killed.
“Why do you suddenly look like that?” She broke his reverie, deciding him.
“Like what?”
“All intense, like you’re about to go back into battle?”
“Because I am. Beauty, have you ever been to a ball?”
10
The plan was crazy. Every single bit of it.
You believe him, don’t you? So why are you making him do this? But Beauty had to know. She paced back and forth in the library, wringing her glove-clad hands together.
Sit down. Just sit down and take a breath. She began lowering herself into her chair.
“Don’t sit down!” Cybel barreled into the room. “Stop!”
She leaped back onto her feet, heart pounding. “Why not?”
“You’ll wrinkle your dress.”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! You have to fit in. Do you really think the young ladies of the capital go to balls in wrinkled dresses?”
“I wouldn’t know, would I?” Beauty replied tartly. “I’ve never even worn a dress.”
“It is beautiful, though, don’t you think?” The little robot gave an almost-human sigh.
It was beautiful. The women in the capital clearly lived a much different life than hers.
The gown was a rich golden-yellow, a full silk skirt overlaid with fine layers of floating chiffon. The heavily jeweled bodice was held up by two ornate straps that curved over her shoulder blades, leaving her back bare.
She didn’t know whether to love it for its beauty or hate it for what it represented. Can I do both?
“Go on, give us a twirl,” Cybel urged her. “Just one. I want to make sure it’s right.”
“Is that really why?” What was she going to do if it wasn’t right? Did she have a whole closet full of these dresses?
“No. I just thought it might be pretty.” She peered up at Beauty, the lenses of her eyes glowing. “It’s not like I get to go to the ball, you know.”
“Is that a guilt trip?”
Cybel said nothing. But if she had lips, I bet they’d be quivering right now.
“Fine. But I feel ridiculous.” She spun on her toes, the skirts lifting and flaring out to twirl around her.
“Well, I think you look…stunning.” Cillian stood in the doorway, unmasked and ungloved, his eyes wide as he took her in.
Beauty flattened the skirts with her hands. “Cybel made me.” Could he see the heat in her cheeks?
Cillian laughed. “Don’t worry, I had to do a spin for her as well.” Though he smiled, he stood stiffly, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. He wore a suit of deep midnight blue, cut expertly to his frame. It hid what his body was made of, but not its shape, hugging his broad shoulders and solid arms. His hair was freshly cut at the sides, the long hair on top combed back. He looked alert, his eyes sharp and watchful. As she gazed at him, the light in his eyes shone.
You’re staring at him.
He took a step toward her. “Beauty—”
The warmth in her face deepened, spreading throughout her body. By the time he stood in front of her, she was on the point of bursting into flame. She tilted her face up to his and as he gazed down at her, the flicker of light in his eyes turned into a glittering inferno.
I wonder if this is what the stars look like. It had been years since she’d seen them.
He raised his hands to her shoulders. Is he going to kiss me? Panic flashed through her. She’d never kissed anyone before. Had never cared to. Did she want him to? He was the Beast, for goodness’ sake. And yet, she didn’t move. Didn’t even want to.
His lips parted as he lifted the hair at the back of her neck, and she took a deep breath.
“Here. I thought you might want to wear this.” He withdrew his hands and she looked down. The locket.
“Where did you find it?”
“You were wearing it when I found you in the tunnels. I— I took it back.”
“I’m sorry. Cybel didn’t think you would miss it. And I just—” What? Opened it and fell in love with the man inside? “I thought it was beautiful,” she finished lamely.
He smiled. “I’m happy for you to have it. If you want it, that is.”
“I do…thank you.” Just ask him. “Cillian?”
“Mm?” He was gazing at the locket, his face unreadable.
“Who is the young man in the picture? Do you know?”
His expression was wistful. “It’s me. It was taken the day before my injury.”
It’s him. Cillian is my prince. He always has been. Her pulse quickened, and yet a tiny part of her soul cried out that it had known all along, even if she hadn’t. “You look so…much older than seventeen.”
“We all looked older. I’d been in the war for two years at that point. Nothing ages you faster than thinking every day might be your last.”
“But your hair—”
“Turned white after I got blown up. The doctor said it was the trauma. It happened overnight and never went back.”
“Who was the locket for?” She bit the inside of her cheek. Did he have a girlfriend? Had he got it made specially, only for her to die? The locket burned against her skin, rebuking her.
“My mother. I— I’d planned to put it on her grave one day. I know it seems silly, but—”
“It doesn’t.” She put her hand on his arm. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know where she’s buried.” He turned away. “Just another one of their lies.”
“I’m so sorry.” The loss of her own parents was something Beauty would never forget. They’d died in the first wave… and she’d been alone. They hadn’t been given a proper funeral either.
He took her hands in his. “Are you sure you want to do this? These people are dangerous. They believe in a better future, it’s true, but they will see it succeed at all costs.” His fingers gripped hers gently, the metal of his cyborg hand smooth against her roug
h skin. “Beauty?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m sure.” I need to see it for myself.
His hands tightened on hers. “Listen to me closely then.” He squeezed her hand until she raised her eyes to his. “We have to do this properly. If we get caught…if you get caught, I—” He didn’t finish, but his meaning was all too clear. I won’t be able to save you.
“Tell me.” She squeezed his hands back, stroking the smooth metal before she could stop herself. It was just so different from human skin. If he noticed, he didn’t react.
He called out over his shoulder. “Cybel? Do you have the masks?”
“Masks?”
He grinned. “Didn’t I tell you? The ball tonight is a masquerade.”
“Masquerade?” She’d read about masques, and despite his warning, despite the fear she would’ve been sensible to feel, a thrill of excitement shot through her. Never in her life had she been to such a thing, had never even heard about one outside her books. They had parties in The Vault, of course, but she usually avoided them. They tended to be strange affairs, somber at first, devolving rapidly into drunken brawls and clandestine hookups. Fierce, frantic, and bloody. Kaitlin had loved them, but Beauty would’ve much rather had a page of paper between her and all that revelry.
“Here, Cillian.” Cybel rolled up to them. Was that a hint of resentment in her tone?
“Can…can robots not come?” Maybe Cillian would let her, if he was going to bring Beauty anyway. They could keep each other company. Cybel’s eyes flashed with hope, her head swiveling up toward Cillian.
He frowned. “No. I’m sorry, Cybel. But you know—”
“Know what?” Offense on Cybel’s behalf rankled Beauty. “I thought they liked robots.”
“They do. Just not my kind.” Cybel spun and rolled from the room, the masks dropping from her small fingers as she fled.
“I— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her.”
“You didn’t.” Cillian sighed as he bent to retrieve the masks. “She’s right.”
“What did she mean?”
“They like androids—humanoid robots. Robots like Cybel are seen as obsolete, as a slightly embarrassing reminder of how primitive they used to be.”
“Like me.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Yes, like you. Hence why you need to be so careful.” He held up the smaller of the masks, an intricate golden filigree. “You must wear this it all times. Do not take it off, no matter what. You never know if they have spies in The Vault who may recognize you.” He held onto it as she tried to take it from him. “I mean it, Beauty. If they realize you’re not of Grace Alpha, and even worse, from The Vault… No matter what they say, no matter how beautiful they tell you you are…” The words hung between them for a few moments, until Cillian cleared his throat. “You must keep it on. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” She pried the mask from his hand and turned it over in her fingers, anything to distract herself from the compelling glow in his eyes. The mask would cover only the upper half of her face, a network of intricates curves and curlicues so interwoven that, although it gave the impression of being delicate, would conceal her identity, leaving only her mouth and eyes exposed. Above the crown stretched a pair of ears of the same swirling pattern, tall and pointed. “A rabbit.”
His smile held no humor. “Yes.”
“And you?”
He held his up with a raised eyebrow. His was much heavier, solid metal covered with tiny, painstakingly etched hairs. A wolf. How apt.
“So now what?”
“Now we go. But remember—talk little. Observe a lot. And don’t let me out of your sight. I promise to keep you in mine.” He led her from the room, from the safety of her new…home and into the shadowy tunnels below. As the darkness swallowed them, she pressed the locket to her heart.
I’ll keep you in mine.
11
I never should’ve agreed to this.
As they sped farther and farther away from The Vault, Cillian’s unease grew like a cancer, eating away at him, until it was all he could do not to engage the brakes and send them hurtling back the other way. He would bundle Beauty into his arms and carry her into the library, throw her into her chair, and pile enough books around her that she wouldn’t be able to read them all in an eternity. They would sit there together until the end of time, everything outside his walls a ghost howling into the wind, ignored and powerless.
Instead, here they were, tearing toward…what? The truth? Yes, but then what? Once she knew the truth, what would she do? He’d lit the fuse without really understanding the bomb on the other end.
And yet, he was electrified, every nerve in what remained of his body on fire. Finally, someone other than him would know the truth, would understand. Right now, that was enough, the giddiness of a shared secret. For how long, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in years, someone had seen him, Cillian. Not the monster he was in The Vault. Not a toy, like he was to those in Grace Alpha. He hated these parties, the long looks, the unbidden and unwelcome hands touching him, inviting and sinister. The fact that his body was so heavily augmented, yet still human in all the ways that counted, made these events a dance of diplomacy and refusal that he tried to avoid at all costs.
And yet, it would be worth it if Beauty believed him. And so they raced through the dark under the earth toward a world Beauty had never seen.
What would she think? How would she see the night sky full of stars? The air, fresh and clean and free of plague, or filth, or sorrow? The people dining on plates she may have risked her life to procure? The laughter of those whose only care was for their own comfort ringing in her ears?
He glanced over at her. She was composed, looking out the small window into the darkness, eyes downcast from her reflection. He would find out soon enough. He was going to stop the shuttle about a mile from their destination. It pained him to let her go for even a minute, but if someone saw them arriving together, it would attract unwelcome attention. He would go first, with her following behind. That way, he could watch her the moment she arrived.
If something happens to her, you’ll never forgive yourself.
His eyes were drawn to the locket around her neck. When he’d seen it on her as he’d carried her back from the tunnels, his first instinct had been to snatch it from her, to hurl it into the darkness, to bury the Cillian who would never exist again. How could he compete with that memory? But he hadn’t been able to. Instead, he’d unclasped it and slipped it into his pocket. He’d quizzed Cybel about it later, and she’d admitted she’d left it out for Beauty to find, although she refused to tell him why.
“You can’t take that away from her,” the little bot had admonished him.
“Why not? It’s mine. You think I need her comparing what I am now to the man I used to be?”
“You’re still that man, Cillian.”
“Well, she’s not going to see it that way, is she?”
“You don’t know that.”
But he did. And yet, when Cybel had been about to leave the room, she’d turned and looked up at him, the light of her eyes an innocent blue. “She holds it when she goes to sleep at night.” Then she’d rolled away, damn her.
Was it true? And did it even matter? He wasn’t that man anymore. Certainly not in Beauty’s eyes. Still, he’d carried the locket with him over the next days, something he’d never done before. And then, when he’d seen her all dressed up, so delicate she could’ve passed for any young woman in Grace Alpha, yet with a core of steel none of them would ever have, it was as though his hand had moved of its own accord, pulling the necklace from his pocket and clasping it around her neck. And she hadn’t flinched, despite how close he’d been to her. So close he could smell the floral rinse Cybel had given her for her hair. So close, that if he’d tilted his head just the right way…
All too soon, he brought the shuttle to a stop. The station had been abandoned years ago, and hopefully, the overg
rown and derelict building would keep their arrival hidden. The door slid open, and the cool night air enveloped him. He breathed deeply, steeling himself.
Her hand touching his face, not with the curious lust for an oddity, but with wonder.
Whatever happened tonight, he would have that to hold onto until the day he died.
Hopefully, that wouldn’t be tonight.
“Do you smell that? What is that?” Beauty had appeared at his elbow, her pale face raised to the sky as she gulped in breaths of fresh air. She stepped gingerly, her eyes darting back and forth, as though expecting to see the evidence of a war she didn’t yet believe was over.
Well, if this doesn’t convince her, I don’t know what will.
The Vault, although ventilated, probably hadn’t had truly clean air in years. “That’s what real air smells like.” Maybe it would be enough, and they wouldn’t have to go to the ball.
She turned in a slow circle, her eyes closed. “It smells like…like… I can’t even describe it.” Then she opened her eyes and let out a shriek.
Cillian’s heart leaped into his throat as he lunged toward her. “What? What is it? Is someone here?” There shouldn’t have been anyone this far out, not with the wilderness taking over. But there were creatures other than humans that lurked in the dark.
Her face was turned to the sky, her fingers pressed to her mouth.
“Beauty?”
Wordlessly, she pointed up at the dark night.
The sky was clear, scattered with millions of glittering stars holding court for a full, golden moon. His heart squeezed, a stifling mix of joy and sorrow. “How long has it been since you’ve properly seen the stars?”
She stretched her arms out from her side and spun, the skirts of her gown whirling with her. “I can’t even remember. Aren’t they wonderful?” She stopped spinning and grabbed his arm. “Thank you so much for this.” Her expression turned somber.
“Are you okay?”
“I just can’t help but wish…that the others could see this. The others in The Vault.” She frowned. “Do you think they’ll ever get to?”