UNBREATHABLE

by Hafsah Laziaf

  “Focus on the target and nothing else. Then throw.” His voice is lulling. I can't focus on anything but my thrumming heart, my hand pulsing beneath his, and my body, slick with sweat. How can I focus when he is so close?

  But when my breathing synchronizes with his, my pulse slows. My mind clears. Julian releases my arm.

  And the faded red and white target is all I see. I think of all the physics Gage taught me. The rules of trajectory paths. I close my eyes for a brief heartbeat, expecting to hear his voice and see his face, but all I see is the target.

  I open my eyes and throw. My arm swings forward and my fingers release the knife. I hold my breath.

  And watch as it sticks into the cushioned wall between two targets.

  Just as the door opens. And Dena laughs.

  I think I might die from humiliation.

  “You did good for your first try,” Julian says, but his voice is tight. I could have done better. Especially because she was here to see it.

  Dena pulls the dagger from the wall and twirls it her hand.

  “I bet you need a break, Jules.” Her voice is suggestive.

  Julian's eyes dart to me. “No, I don't. Just leave, Dena.”

  She scoffs. “Can't you see how pathetic she is? Why bother? Let the Jute do whatever they want with her. At least they’re good-looking. Better than good, I should say.”

  Julian clenches his jaw. His voice drops. “Dena. Leave.”

  Dena looks at me for the first time. She opens her mouth.

  And I can’t take it anymore. Because anger is stronger than fear. Because I finally snap. “Did anyone ever tell you to take a hike? On Earth, that meant shut up and leave, no one wants your condescension.”

  I clamp my mouth shut, heat exploding across my face. Julian snorts and barely covers it with a cough. Dena turns bright red and glares at him.

  “You don't want to die anymore, do you, Julian?” She takes in his stricken face before she storms out, slamming the door behind her.

  My hands shake when I retrieve the dagger from the floor.

  “I'm sorry,” I can barely say.

  He scoffs. “Sorry? That was- I didn't think you had it in you. And besides, Dena deserved it.”

  A blush burns my face and I struggle to change the subject. “Can I keep this with me?”

  He doesn't answer right away. Finally, he blinks. “Oh yeah, sure. Tomorrow then?”

  “Tomorrow,” I say.

  He hurries out, leaving me surrounded by a multitude of weapons I can't even use. I stare at the knife in my hand.

  Jute learn as fast as they heal, Julian said.

  Pathetic, Dena said.

  I'm not. I step back and angle my arm. I'll show her I'm not. I throw the knife. It lands an embarrassing length away from target, worse than before. I pull it free and release a shuddering breath. Anger still pulses through my veins. It is new to me, this anger.

  I let it stay, fuel me. And I throw the knife again.

  And again and again.

  My room is across from Julian's.

  “If you need anything,” he adds quickly.

  “And Lissa?” He says, opening the door to my room again. “You’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “You can’t always be here,” I say.

  His eyes hold mine, dark and penetrating. “I will. Always.”

  “Who’s Rowan?” I ask, before I can stop myself.

  “He works for the Queen,” he says slowly, and that’s all.

  “So the Queen wants me.” I tilt my head. “But no one knows why.”

  He nods. “Not even the Queen knows why.”

  And with that, he closes the door behind him.

  The bed is large, satiny blue, inviting me with plush pillows. A folded nightgown is set on one corner and a small bowl of colorless porridge sits on the bedside stand. A few steps to my left is a door leading to a small bath.

  I eat, wash and climb into bed with a sigh, relieving my aching limbs.

  The full moon casts a ghostly white glow in the room, making me feel like I’m elsewhere. I turn so I can see the moon in the distance, an oddly shaped round. It’s nothing like Earth’s dimmer moon, a perfect round riddled with craters.

  One hundred and fifty years ago, humans came to Jutaire when Earth became too dangerous for life. They came on a ship, Gage had said, the ruins of which still exist close to Jute territory. Days after they landed, rain spilt from the sky.

  They welcomed it as they did on Earth and it killed them. I’ve listened to the story from Gage’s lips nearly every rainfall. And each time I stared out the window as the rain splattered on the glass, and wondered—why didn't the Jute warn us?

  Half the human race bled beneath the crying skies. Of the half remaining, Gage had said, yet another half disappeared without a trace. I looked at his face, as the full moon glowed across his sharp features and pale hair.

  “Where did they go?” I was younger then, much younger.

  “The Lost Colony? It’s too long of a story for me, Lissa,” he said. He leaned against his rickety desk and scribbled something on a fraying sheet of paper. He gestured toward the dingy shelves lining the wall. “It’s all in the books.”

  But it wasn’t. I scoured every single book in search of the Lost Colony. There’s nothing that tells of the humans who disappeared. But they can’t have died. No, something else happened to them. I just know it.

  And only now, days after he has died, do I remember: He lied.

  He knew of the Lost Colony. And he died with his secret.

  It takes one month.

  I’ve perfected the use of a dagger, a bow, and a double-bladed staff and learned how to fight with my bare hands. Of them all, I prefer a dagger the most, and enjoy a bow the least. The way the curve of the dagger handle fits into my palm and moves as I do gives me a feeling of control, unlike a bow.

  I’ve grown accustomed to expecting the feeling I get when Julian looks at me, stands near me, and breathes near me. But I will never grow accustomed to the feeling itself. It always feels new, fresh. I can’t get enough of it.

  We part ways wordlessly at the hall. He was quiet today, his eyes dark and brooding.

  I wash up and sink into bed, feeling the impact of my exhaustion only when the comfort of my covers envelops me. As always, I tuck two daggers beneath my pillow.

  They make me feel safe, and now that I know how to use them, they will keep me safe too.

  I stare at the ceiling, and remember my first night here, beneath another full moon. And in the blank, ethereal white glow, I see my thoughts.

  The Jute, who want me.

  My mother, who my father claims is dead.

  Slate, who wants to be with the daughter he lost.

  Chancellor Kole, who will do anything to protect his daughter.

  Dena, who will do anything to get rid of me, and get Julian back.

  And Julian, who gets more and more distant with each passing day. Something bothers him. I wish he would share his burden. I wish I knew what he wanted.

  And me. What do I want? I ask my beating heart.

  It whispers. Because it is afraid to want what it wants. Because so many have died for it and many more will. I sigh and turn to my side. We can't all get what we want.

  Yet when I close my eyes, I don’t see darkness. I see blue and green and white.

  Earth.

  I wake to the sound of my name in the middle of the night. I slide my hand beneath my pillow and close my fingers around the hilt of a dagger as a figure moves into the moonlight.

  “It's me.” Relief rushes through me when I hear the soft sound of Julian’s voice. His messy hair glows in the moonlight.

  “What is it? What's wrong?” I whisper. My voice is thick with sleep.

  He stares at me in silence. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Oh.” I sit up. His eyes slip to my bare shoulders and linger before they jump back to my face. Everywhere he looks, my skin tingles, as
if his gaze is a tangible thing. I hear him shift in the dark and warmth rushes to my face.

  “How would you know,” he breathes, “if you loved someone?”

  I blink. I remember telling him his love for Dena was not love.

  “I guess, you would know, in your heart. You wouldn't be able to close your eyes without seeing her face, hearing her voice and imagining her smile. And you wouldn't be able to leave her, no matter how much you tried. When you see her smile and laugh and hear her voice, whispering words just for you, it'll feel like the world is at your feet. Like nothing could ever go wrong.”

  I snort softly. “I don't know really. It's all in my mind.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair. “How would you tell them? Her.”

  “That you love her?” I ask. “I-I guess you wouldn't need to. If she loved you back, you would both feel it, know it, and that itself will bring you together.”

  But there was one word I had found in my water-damaged copy of the English dictionary that could describe love.

  “Love is magic,” I say.

  My eyes burn and I rub at the ache in my chest. I speak as if I know, but I do not. This is only what I think. What I want.

  For a moment, I think he has fallen asleep, bored by my words. But after a moment, I he whispers.

  “Thank you, Lissa.”

  I hear his soft footfalls. I see the door open. And before sleep finds me again, I think I hear his voice, a lullaby in the dark.

  “Sweet dreams.”

  And I think, maybe, just maybe, I dreamt it all.

  The door to the training room is ajar the next day. My legs ache with every step. But any day now, the Jute might come, and I need to be ready.

  It’s odd, how my life has changed in the span of little more than a month. I have gone from an orphan living in a sea of dying humans to a daughter, a prized possession needed so the Jute can get to Earth.

  I slip silently into the room. Sunlight shines through the wide windows, casting the weapons in shades of brilliant gold. Beautiful and deadly.

  I almost don't see Julian sitting in the corner, leaning over something. He doesn’t see me come in, and it’s hard not to stare without his attention on me.

  His face is calm though his long fingers move. There’s a ridge on the bridge of his nose that I didn’t notice before. A crescent-shaped scar, the length of my thumbnail curves along the side of his left eye. I force my eyes down to his lips, full and a bruised dark pink, as if he spends too much time chewing them in nervousness.

  He isn’t as perfect as I first thought.

  He looks up through the hair dusting his forehead and I want to brush them away with the tips of my fingers. Amusement touches his irises as if he can read my mind.

  And he smiles. His lips curve up and I feel as if this is the first time I've seen a smile. My heart ricochets inside my ribcage and threatens to burst free.

  And I realize, in all the seventeen years of my life, I have never felt this way. Ever.

  “This is for you,” he says softly, reminding me to breathe. He holds up two daggers. The black hilts are carved in gold and white lines, swirling unto one another. Like the colors of Earth. And in the midst of the looping swirls, I see five letters. My name.

  “It's beautiful,” I say breathlessly. My fingers brush against his when I take them from him. My breath hitches. He notices, and when his eyes find mine, the corners of his lips are still turned up in a smile.

  I smile back. His eyes trace the curve of my lips. “You should smile more often, it looks good on you.”

  I want to laugh and at the same time, fade into the wall behind me. But I find courage somewhere inside me. “You should too.”

  He laughs and I almost forget to breathe. I want to grab ahold of his laughter and tuck it into my pocket to keep forever. “I'll keep that in mind.”

  “Am I interrupting anything?” I scramble to my feet as Slate steps in. His gray eyes are alight with the smile on his face.

  “No,” I say too quickly. Julian watches me, offering nothing. It only makes every breath harder.

  “Mm-hmm,” Slate teases. My neck is on fire and I don’t know what to say.

  “Alright, alright,” he laughs, raising his hands. But the knowing smile is still on his face. He looks between Julian and me. And when neither of us offers a word, he leans back. “Lissa, can you come with me?”

  “Of course,” I say, tucking the daggers into the sheaths that are almost permanent around my waist. I glance back at Julian before following Slate out the door. We walk in silence for a few moments before I break it. “Where are we going?”

  “To eat,” he says simply.

  “We usually eat in the training room,” I say slowly. For the past month, it’s been Julian, him, and me. He tilts his head.

  “I know,” he says with a smile as we climb up a flight of stairs. “But today, you’re eating where the others eat.”

  He leads me to a wide room with an elongated round white table in its center, large enough to seat at least fourteen or so people. The iridescent ten-pointed star in a glossier white spans from one end to the other. But what takes my breath away is the wall behind it. The wall in front of me.

  It’s completely glass.

  Slate chuckles softly when I cross the room, unable to hold my jaw up as everything, everything, spills open before me. From here, at the top of the Tower, even the hill where I felt so free looks minuscule. The rows and rows of houses look as small as me, and the Chamber looks like a cube I can fit in my hand. I can see the people in the market, like sticks darting to and fro. Everyone avoids the gallows, though children run up and down the platform’s rickety steps.

  Everything between, around, and beyond our small settlement is red.

  “It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” Slate asks. I nod quickly.

  I turn to him. “Is this where we’re going to have lunch?”

  “Along with the Chancellors, yes,” he says.

  My eyes widen. “But-I-why?”

  He fixes me with his gray stare, his expression serious. “The Chancellors have no power, Lissa. Everything they do, every life they take, it’s all because of the Jute, and more importantly, Queen Rhea. They don’t deserve your fear or hatred. They’re only trying to keep as many of us alive as they can.”

  “They know Earth exists. They’ve known even before Gage saw it,” I say flatly. My eyes stray to the hill, where I stared into the sky on countless nights.

  “They have no choice but to hide the truth. The Jute are capable, Lissa. The humans who came to Jutaire came prepared with countless amenities and supplies. They came here with the purpose of living here, not dying out. The Jute took it all. Fighting back is pointless.” He sighs and steps back toward the table, sinking into one of the chairs just as the door opens.

  Chancellor Kole walks in, followed by three other men—the other Chancellors. I’ve only seen Chancellor Kole because he meets the people, even if only to kill us.

  “You look different,” he says flatly. I haven’t seen him in a month. I pretend I don’t hear him and creep closer to Slate.

  One of the others, a pale-haired man with ice-blue eyes offers me a kind smile and crosses the room to shake my hand. “Evan. It’s nice to meet you, Lissa.” Chancellor Evan. So this is Julian’s uncle.

  The youngest of the group is a dark-skinned, scrawny man, who looks to be in his twenties. He’s the newest of the Chancellors. Abel, I think. I remember Chancellor Kole announcing it at a hanging a few months before Gage died.

  It’s funny how easily I can think of Gage’s hanging now. But wasn’t it his fault? He knew of Earth through the Jute, but he still wanted to see it himself. And in the end, his greed cost him his life.

  “She is different,” Slate speaks up. “Stronger, more beautiful, but still my daughter.”

  I flush when the four of them stare at me. And of course, Dena chooses that exact moment to saunter in.

  “What’s everyone staring
at?” She asks loudly. She has a bowl of food in her hand and doesn’t even glance at me before dropping into one of the chairs with a snort. “I bet Julian is finally getting some time to himself.”

  “It’s only fair for us to meet the girl we’re protecting, yes?” Abel says, ignoring her. His voice is scratchy and sharp. He winks and I’m grateful for his interruption.

  “I agree,” the brown-haired one says, reaching for my hand. His face is carefully neutral and I wish it wasn’t. But I catch the slight disgust in the way he eyes the bare skin on my face where a mask should be. He doesn’t know I haven’t worn a mask since I started living here. “Chancellor Willem.”

  “It’s nice to meet all of you,” I say slowly, taking a small step back. Soldiers trickle in, laughing as they set the table. I feel vaguely smug that the Chancellors have to eat the same bland porridge I do, along with the rest of our dying race.

  “We’re not protecting her for nothing,” Chancellor Kole says. I look away from his stare. “She’ll return the favor. Eventually.”

  I sit beside Slate and reach for one of the bowls. I eat as quickly as I can, despite the one thing evident in the Chancellors’ stares. Expectancy.

  That’s when I realize Slate is wrong. We do stand a chance against the Jute.

  We just need to take it.

  A hand. On my shoulder.

  My eyes fly open. My bed creaks as I dig my nails into soft flesh and twist the arm of—

  “It's me,” Julian rasps.

  I let go and shoot up, the sheets a swirl around my legs. “I'm so sorry.”

  “Shh, it's fine.” He rubs his arm, and in the soft moonlight, I see his eyes dart to my closed door. His stance is wrong, too nervous.

  “What is it?”

  “Shh,” he says again, eyes wide. He rushes over to the door and presses his ear against it.

  “They're here,” he says in a worried whisper. My eyes widen. “The Jute. They're due tomorrow to pick up a body, but someone spotted them. They never come at night. Something’s up.”

  I slide off the bed, but Julian shakes his head. “You have to stay here. I wanted you awake, just in case.”