He takes hold of my hand without a word, envelops me in his soft strength. I wonder if he can forgive me, I wonder if he knows and if he doesn’t, if I can ever tell him.
We run, because there isn’t much time.
And we don't stop until we reach the place where I kissed Rowan, and never wanted him to stop.
I can almost feel the strands of Rowan’s hair brushing against my forehead. But I don’t feel disgust anymore. I feel guilt. Guilt that I did such a thing.
Hate doesn’t well up when I picture Rowan’s face. And for that, I hate myself.
“Are you alright?” Julian asks, because I’m frozen, my eyes glued to the spot where I stood in the moonlight. His gaze flickers to the wall and back to me. “Lissa?”
“I’m fine,” I say breathlessly. I rush past him and push open the unlocked door. Shame burns my skin.
The house is as dark as it was last night. Even the light of the sun can’t penetrate this darkness. Julian doesn’t follow and I wonder if he needs a moment to himself. A moment of solitude, without me to interrupt.
The house is eerily empty, and a sudden thought raises my pulse. I walk past the empty living room and throw open the door to the room with the fireplace. It’s empty. My heart pounds faster. I run into the other corridor. I check the dining hall. Empty. I rush back and fling open the door to the room that I called mine for a day.
“Eli,” I breathe in relief. Why I was afraid I wouldn't see him, I don't know. He raises his head from against the chair beside the bed. When he sees my arm, he shoots to his feet.
“Mission successful?” He asks, checking my arm.
“The palace is in ruins. It’s collapsing.” An overwhelming sadness chokes my voice.
“There was nothing you could do about that,” he says. He tilts his head. “That isn't why you went there though. Why did you go there, Lissa?”
“I…” I trail off and his fingers pause around my arm. “I went there for Julian.”
“And were you successful?” He asks again.
“Yes.” Julian says behind me. “Did you ever doubt her?”
Eli laughs and I turn back to him, eyes wide. If I had heard his laugh before, I would have known right away that he’s Julian’s father.
Julian joins him, his laugh softer in comparison. He stops abruptly, his jaw clenched as he steadies himself against the doorframe, one hand pressed against his head.
“We don’t have time,” Julian says, his voice tinged in pain.
“We don’t,” Eli agrees. “Let me take a look at that. As soon as his work is done, Rowan will head for the ship.” He turns his eyes to mine. “But I suspect he’ll come back for you first.”
“I don't think so,” I say softly, looking away. Eli shakes his head.
“You're in his blood, Lissa.” I flinch and Julian inhales sharply. “He listens to you. You're making him see the world through a different lens. You're making him human.”
I shake my head. I want to tell him about all the deaths Rowan has caused.
“He needs you. To the extent that it’s bordering madness.” Eli sighs. Julian watches me intently.
My cheeks burn as my mind replays last night. I leave before my face betrays what words cannot. But even as I ease the door closed behind me, I can hear Julian’s quiet question. And for once, I wish he didn’t know. I wish he couldn’t read me the way he can. But he can.
And he always will.
I splash water on my burning face. My reflection stares back in the rippling water. I am as red as the land around me. I slip out the back door and climb the short wall surrounding Eli's land, easing myself on the six-foot stone ledge.
I pick at the clean fabric Eli wrapped around my arm. The aching pain has faded to a dull throb because of the Jute blood in me.
I raise myself to my feet, balancing myself on the foot-wide wall. Beyond Julian's house, and the clear Louen covered plantation Eli owns, beyond the many houses and buildings, smoke billows from what’s left of the palace. My eyes burn as if the flames surround me, not the remains of a magnificent building so far from here.
How can one feel so sorry for a heartless construction?
Somewhere out there, Rowan stands as I do, staring at his work. His masterpiece of destruction.
Soon, nothing will be left but ashes. Charred, darkened bits of a palace that once was. The bodies of the Jute that once lived powerful lives will deteriorate with it. Green eyes flash in my mind, reminding me of Mia. Is she still in that hidden room, nibbling away at her ration of bread? Why couldn’t she come with me? Is my mother still inside her chambers? Is she still asleep, her gown draped over her elegant figure?
She’s dead.
Soon, nothing will be left. Soon, Rowan will herd together his men and make way for the ship. Soon, he’ll land on Earth and take what is not his.
No. Soon he’ll come back for me.
I sit down on the ledge, dangling my legs over the edge. My head spins when I glance down.
Somewhere to my left lies human territory, and Dena. I wonder if she made it back safely, and if she has given my blood to every human alive.
“You're hiding from me,” Julian teases as he climbs onto the ledge beside me with a small smile. His face is clean, the bruises less prominent. The wind picks up, blowing the strands that have come loose from my braid. It blows his hair too, but his piercing gaze never wavers.
“I'm not,” I say. “I was wrong.”
“Oh?” He raises one eyebrow.
“I thought I wanted Earth, but I was wrong. I still want Earth but not”—take a deep breath—“not without you by my side.”
He stares at me, deep in thought.
“No matter what the cost?” He asks quietly.
“No matter what the cost,” I echo.
Pain flickers across his eyes. “Then I'll make sure you get just that. For as long as I can.”
“Forever,” I say softly, confused. “I want you forever.”
He says nothing. I rub at an invisible ache beneath my heart.
“Did Rowan hurt you?” He asks.
I breathe a laugh. It sounds bitter. “No. He would never hurt me.” I sound as if I’m defending him.
“I see,” he says distantly. His eyes burn into my soul.
“I kissed him,” I whisper. The words tumble out. I don't say how much I wanted it. How much I needed it. How I never wanted it to end. But my eyes swell with tears.
He reaches for me. Pulls me against him, so my cheek rests against his chest. I hear the rumble of quiet laughter by his heart. And when he speaks, his voice is tinged in amusement. “You've been through so much, and this is what makes you cry?”
I sputter a laugh and his fingers trail down my hair. So gentle. Like the wind. Only beautiful. Real. It hurts.
I pull back and look at him, our faces inches apart. “You aren't upset.”
“Upset?” He tilts his head and touches his nose to mine. His whisper brushes my face. “Because my brother wants what I do? Rowan and I are alike in almost every way. It would be impossible.”
He laughs. “So no, I'm not upset.”
He said Rowan wants what he does. But didn't I want Rowan last night too?
“Your ear,” I say, raising my hand. I brush my fingers over the soft, cool skin and a blush explodes across my face. The touch seems more intimate than it’s supposed to.
“Is fine,” he finishes.
“You were feverous,” I say. He’s still warm, but not scorching.
“I'm fine. My dad is pretty good with medicine,” he says. He leans against my hand and closes his eyes. I notice everything in those few heartbeats. The way his clean shirt clings to his chest and arms. The stillness of his features. The defining ridge on his nose that Rowan doesn’t have. The angle of his jaw. The way the silky strands of his hair fall over his pale bronze skin.
“You're beautiful,” I whisper. The moment I say them, the words hit me in the face, slam into my heart. His eyes fly open and my hea
rt skips a beat at the intensity of his gaze.
He exhales a shaky breath and trembles beneath my hand before he leans away. He runs his tongue across his lips and I hear a multitude of words in his silence.
“Then we're a perfect match, aren't we?” He asks finally. His low voice reminds me of Rowan and shivers race through me. He grins at my blush and I quickly pull out his sketch and hold it out to him.
“You keep it,” I say, because it means more to me if it’s with him. “Do you have more drawings?”
“I used to,” he says softly. “But I destroyed them all when my mom died. But in the dungeons, I-I had to draw you, to see you. Because I was so sure I wouldn’t see you again. And I drew another, a redrawing of one of my favorite old sketches afterwards, to get my mind off you.”
He pulls another slip of paper from his pocket and unfolds it with his long fingers. It's a careful sketch of an old clock, blurring into a rippling sea. “It’s supposed to stand for our life. Time we don't have, time we don’t know. It was originally meant to resemble the way we lost track of time when humans came to Jutaire. I didn’t have colors, or I would have made the sea blue.”
“It's beautiful,” I say.
“You think so? I looked through some Earth books to find a clock and the sea. They're all old, so it's hard to find anything clear enough.”
“All you had to do was look in your eyes,” I say softly.
“They're like the sea. Your hair is like the night sky. And your smile is like the moon.”
He’s silent a moment before he folds the sketch, a slow smile spreading across his face. Dena was right. “And you?”
“Me?”
“Mm-hmm.” He nods slowly. “Describe yourself.”
“I'm plain ol' me,” I say with a shrug.
“No, you're not,” he says softly. “Your hair is like chocolate, rich and silky. Your skin is like the moon, pale and bright. Your eyes are like a child's, innocent and wide. And your lips are always parted the slightest bit, always begging to be kissed.” He pulls me close and whispers the last words against my lips.
The back door flies open and I pull away, my skin ablaze. Smudges of color blossom across Julian's cheeks and an inexplicable happiness takes hold of my heart, pushing away everything else.
Eli steps into the small space between his house and the ledge. He watches his son with so much love in his eyes that it wrenches my heart. When he turns his gaze to me, I hear two simple words in his silence. Thank you.
At once, I feel happiness and the urge to cry. This is the meaning of love. It fills you with longing, want, and so much happiness that it hurts. It hurts enough to cry through a smile.
I leap down and wipe away the tears burning at the edge of my eyes, hoping neither of them notices.
“It's time to go,” Eli says as Julian drops down beside me.
“You won't like this,” Julian says to me.
“Why? What do you mean?”
“You need to get to human territory before Rowan gets to you,” Eli says.
“We can't walk, obviously,” Julian says.
“And we don't have a carriage.” Eli leads us around the house.
“We’ll have to ride there,” Julian says apologetically.
I stop in my tracks and meet the creature’s piercing red eyes. I have to ride there on a mutant. Bile rises in my throat and I cringe as I force it back down.
“You could ride with me,” Julian says behind me. “But we need two, just in case.”
“I don't even know how to ride.”
“I saw how it affected you when the Queen called them horses. I know it wouldn't have mattered to you if you hadn't obsessed over horses. I know, Lissa, that you know how to ride,” he says a-matter-of-factly.
I hear the unsaid words. “Just like you. You've pored over the books just like I did.”
“Don't get me started on Julian and Earth,” Eli laughs. There’s a twinkle in his suddenly bright eyes. He has changed since Julian arrived. It's as though Julian and Rowan have two different fathers.
Julian flushes and disappears into the house to get water and supplies. Eli brings rug-like saddles and tosses it over the mutants' backs. I shiver, wishing I had the gloves Slate gave me. Eli notices. “It'll be fine. You don't even have to touch them. Here.”
He hands me a pair of brown gloves as dark as my hair. They’re supple and rich, made for slender hands like mine. Cross-stitches line the edges in a lighter shade of brown.
They’re unlike anything I’ve seen before. I glance up at him. “They’re beautiful.”
He nods and quickly looks away. But not before I see his Adam’s apple bob. He hurries back into the house before I can ask him what’s wrong. I slip on the gloves, and wiggle my fingers. The gloves are as soft as they look.
“Where did you get those?”
I jump and drop my hands by my sides. Julian’s gaze follows my movement. A long coat, like the one he wore on the night of the ceremony hangs from his lean frame. The collar is raised to protect his mouth from dust.
“These?” I ask, raising my hands. He nods. “Eli gave them to me.”
Surprise flickers across his face, yet his expression still remains dark.
“He did,” he says to himself. He moves toward the mutant and climbs it in one swift movement, throwing a glance back at me. “Do you need help mounting?”
“I can manage,” I say. What happened?
My feet kick up dust as I move to the mutant waiting for me. It whinnies, the sound low and guttural. My throat constricts as I hook one leg in the loop and swing my leg over the other side.
How many times have I done this in my mind? How many times have I breathed over the words written in ink in those ancient books, wondering if I would ever ride an actual horse?
I splay my hands on the makeshift saddle for a moment, trying to ignore the sick feeling inside my stomach, rising up my throat. I grip the reins and raise my eyes. Julian watches. His eyes flicker from the gloves to my face again.
“They were my mother’s,” he says finally, turning his back to me. His voice is low again. It’s as if his voice moves on another frequency. Reaches into my veins instead of my ears.
I glance down at the gloves and I imagine the ghost of his mother’s fingers in them. Did she look as beautiful as Julian and Rowan? No, she couldn’t have looked like either of them – they don’t share the same mother.
“She hated the mutants too, and my dad made her those gloves. After she… after she died, he couldn’t part with them.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say when he speaks of things that pain him. I grip the reins as Julian turns back to me, but before he can speak, Eli bursts through the door.
A smear of blood taints his cheek. He’s breathless, his eyes wide. Julian curses and stumbles off the mutant, rushing to his father in heartbeats.
Eli sputters and coughs.
But he isn’t hurt, not physically. He meets my eyes.
“Mia.”
The weight of the stone around my neck threatens to pull me to the ground.
“No,” I whisper.
I tumble off the mutant, ignoring its panicked squeals. I pull the gloves from my hands and tuck them into the pocket of my tunic. My movements are jerky and slow at the same time, as if I’m moving too fast against heavy winds.
“Lissa, wait.” Julian tries to grab me. I duck and push past him and Eli into the dark house. There’s a pain in my chest that no amount of time can ever cure.
Mia. Carefree, bubbly, a beacon of light in our dark world.
Dead.
The house is dark and I don’t know where she is. Maybe she isn’t dead. Darkness edges into the corners of my vision, tightens around my mind, pulls me to the ground. My breathing is rough in the silence of death. Hands grab me from behind.
“Let me go,” I plead. My voice is harsh, hushed. Tight with tears.
“No, Lissa,” Julian says.
He pulls me harder,
turns me to face him. I stare at him, at his eyes wavering in my tears. “She’s not dead.”
No.
No
no
“What?” I ask, breath held. She isn’t dead?
“She’s hurt very badly, but not dead. They’re not sure she’ll make it. They’re trying, but there’s a high likelihood of...” he trails off.
I feel as though someone has reached into my chest and twisted my heart. I gasp for air and sink down, down, to the ground. He drops to his knees in front of me.
“How?” I finally choke out.
“Someone found out. The Queen placed an order to kill her years ago, and one of the soldiers must have tried to follow through.”
My eyes widen. Someone who’s been searching for years just found out. And it can only be because I asked Eli to find her. To help me.
“I want to see her,” I say flatly.
“You can’t,” he says, shaking his head again.
I snort. “Why not? I’ve seen enough blood. Gage, Chancellor Kole, countless others. You.”
He flinches. “She was your servant. You knew her for less than a day. Why does she matter so much?” He asks harshly.
“I killed her.” The words spill in a venomous whisper.
“You did not. She’s still alive.” His jaw is clenched.
My nostrils flare. “She was hope. This world is so messed up and she-she would have turned it around. Have you ever seen her, Julian?”
He softens when I say his name. He’s keeping count, I realize. “Yes, I have. Do you know what she told me?”
I don’t answer. She can’t die. She can’t.
“She said she could never be queen. She wanted it this way. She said she wasn’t born to lead. Only some are. Like you.”
Didn’t she tell me as much? But that was before. Before my mother died. I stiffen. Before the queen died.
I am queen.
I break free from Julian’s grasp. Every vein in my body is numb with grief, cold with this new revelation. Eli paces outside, questioning the guard about medical methods. He held hope over Mia too. Too much hope. But I know he won’t sit still and wait, I know he’ll go there himself, wherever she is, and try to save her.
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