by Stacey Jay
I stretch my arms above my head and point my toes and arch like a cat, more aware of my physical being than I’ve ever been. My entire body tingles at the thought of being back with Gem. Unfortunately, my body is also dirty and, a quick sniff confirms, none too fresh-smelling. There isn’t time for a bath—though Gem is well hidden behind the bushes on the unguarded side of the tower, I don’t want to leave him waiting—but I can at least have Needle bring a bowl of water and a sponge and beg her to do something with my hair before I head back out into the night.
After I ask her to bring me something to eat. I’m faint with hunger.
“Needle!” I call from my place on the ground, too exhausted to bother getting up. “I’m back. I’m on the balcony. Can you bring some fruit and nuts? Enough for two?”
“Who else are you feeding?” The deep, angry male voice is completely unexpected, making me bolt into a seated position.
I knock my head on the parapet but ignore the agony blossoming in my skull as my headache becomes something much more painful. I spin and spring onto the balls of my bare feet, staying in a crouch, ready to hurl myself at this man’s voice and knock him flat the second he proves he’s here to hurt me.
Bo’s hint that someone in Yuan has been poisoning me comes back in a rush, making me shake as I demand, “Who’s there? Who are you?”
“It’s Bo,” he says, making my jaw drop. He sounds nothing like himself. His voice is so deep and angry and … cutting. “You’re filthy. Get up off the floor. You look like an animal,” he continues, barking at me like one of his misbehaving underlings.
“Bo, I …” I want to tell him to leave me be, but I can’t until I learn how much he knows. “What are you doing here?”
“Better question, where have you been? I discovered you were missing early this evening.” I hear his footsteps moving closer, and the hair at the back of my neck prickles. My mind tells me Bo wouldn’t hurt me, but something instinctive urges me to run, to fight him if he tries to stop me. “Who have you been with, Isra? What kind of man leaves you looking like that? Like he had you in the dirt?”
“What?” I laugh, even as my cheeks heat. Surely he can’t mean—
“You think this is funny?” Bo snatches my arm, and pulls me to my feet. My laughter ends in a gasp of surprise. And pain. His fingers don’t feel soft anymore. They bite through my flesh, not shying away when they find bone. “You think it’s funny to make a fool of me?”
“Let me go,” I order in my iciest tone, doing my best to ignore the fear making my blood race and my splitting head spin.
If Bo decides to abuse me—here in my private chambers, where no one but he and his father have ever dared set foot—there will be no one to stop him. Needle’s life will be over if she lays hands on a soldier. The punishment for assaulting a member of the guard is death.
The thought makes my heart beat even faster. Penalty of death or no, she would still defend me. I have to tell her to stay out of this, no matter what. “Where’s Needle?” I ask, trying not to wince when Bo’s grip grows tighter. “I require my maid.”
“Your maid is in your bedroom,” he says, his tone openly mocking. “With orders not to set foot outside it until I find out who the queen has been rutting with tonight.”
Fury banishes my fear and pain. How dare he? “Get out,” I snap. “Now. Before I punish you the way I would anyone else who spoke to me that way.”
Now it’s his turn to laugh, an ugly laugh that makes my throat tight. “Are you threatening me?”
“It’s not a threat; it’s a warning.” With a sharp jerk, I wrench my arm from his grasp. Pain knifes through my head in response, but I blink it away, ignoring the throbbing behind my eyes and the pitching of my stomach. I can’t show weakness, not if I want to take the upper hand. “I am the queen of Yuan. If I wanted you wrapped in chains and tossed into the river, I could have it done. Within the hour. You forget yourself.”
“No, you forget yourself,” he snaps. “You aren’t a queen; you’re a disgrace. Everyone knows it. That’s why your father locked you away in the first place.”
“You have one minute to leave before I call the guards.”
“I can’t believe I felt sorry for you.” His anger is a live thing, hovering in the air between us, threatening to dig its claws into me all over again. “I can’t believe I defended your life while you deceived me!”
“You’re out of your mind.” I try to stand tall, but the torture in my skull makes me sway. I brush my hair from my clammy forehead and swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I’ve never deceived you,” I say, voice breathier than I would like.
“But you would have,” he says. “When we were married, and you bore me a bastard.”
For a moment all I can do is lean against the parapet, gaping in his direction, reeling from shock and trying not to be sick. “We aren’t even betrothed.”
“But we would have been. It was understood. By everyone, and I don’t—”
I cut him off with a hand held in the air between us. “It doesn’t matter what was understood. There are no papers signed. You never even asked permission to court me. You certainly haven’t earned the right to act like a jealous husband.”
“I planned to ask you to marry me tonight,” he says. “But instead of finding you waiting for news about the welfare of your city, I found the tower deserted and you out spreading your legs—”
“Stop this,” I hiss, shaking with anger. “I’ve done nothing to deserve this, and even if I had, it isn’t your place to speak to your queen like a woman you bought for the night!” I shout, regretting it immediately as the pain grows so fierce that tears fill my eyes.
I take a breath and try to blink them away, hating that Bo might think that I care enough to cry over anything he has to say, but the agony only grows worse. The bursts of color return, coming faster, a dizzying barrage of red and green and orange that makes it difficult to focus on his words.
“I wouldn’t … None of this would have happened if …” He clears his throat. “I came here to tell you the dome hasn’t been compromised. I did the inspection myself. It was a snake skin on the glass. I was … so happy,” he says, a hitch in his voice. “For you. And myself. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“That’s wonderful news,” I whisper, bracing myself against the balcony wall with both hands.
I’m shaking again. Shaking and sweating, the misery in my head swiftly becoming more than I can bear. I have to get rid of Bo. I need Needle to help me into bed and then hurry down and help Gem sneak back to his cell. I won’t be seeing him or the roses tonight. I can barely stay upright, let alone go jumping from roofs.
“Bo, this isn’t what you’re thinking.” I hate defending myself to him, but it’s the quickest way to get him to leave. “I was in my garden. Alone. I’ve been there most of the past two days.”
“The guards never mentioned seeing anyone in your garden.”
“I hid in the wheelbarrow when I heard them coming,” I say, thinking fast. “I didn’t want company, but I couldn’t stand sitting up here doing nothing. But I did too much. That’s why I asked Needle to bring enough food for two. I need to eat. I barely had the strength to get back into the tower.”
“How did you get in and out of the tower?” he asks. “The guards never saw you leave, and I’ve been watching the main stair all evening, and then suddenly here you were, on the balcony. Is there a secret entrance, a hidden passage?”
“Please,” I mumble, not having to fake the weakening of my knees that sends me sliding back down to the ground. “I need to rest.”
I close my eyes, but that doesn’t make my head ache any less. If anything, it hurts more. I stifle a moan, wishing I were in my bed, wishing I could lie down right here and press my forehead against the cold stone.
“You swear there isn’t …” He clears his throat. “You swear you were alone? You haven’t been with another man?”
I want to scream, but instead I shake my head,
just the barest movement back and forth. “No. No one.”
Not yet, I add silently, but if there is any way to manage it, I will make sure I take a lover before I marry you.
Marry Bo. The thought was nervous-making before. Now it makes me feel like a fish being gutted. But it’s unavoidable. Junjie will never go along with any of my proposed changes for the city if I defy him. If I refuse to marry his son, I’ll find my chief advisor even more difficult to deal with. And if I relieve Junjie of his duties, my people will be frantic with fear and not inclined to love me for turning their world upside down. They have faith in Junjie; they trust him to keep the city safe. Even before my father died, it was Junjie and his strong, solid presence at the head of the military force that gave the people a sense of security. My father told me as much.
“If that’s true …” Bo’s sigh places him no more than a foot away, his mouth closer to the floor than it should be. He must have knelt beside me while I was lost in the misery of my thoughts. “I apologize. I never meant to upset you. I just … I couldn’t bear thinking of you with someone else. It hurt me. I care for you, Isra.”
I would laugh if I could.
I know what a hurt boy sounds like. A hurt boy sounds like Gem did last night—angry, but desperate for a reason to put his anger away. Bo wasn’t hurt; he was embarrassed, and intended to make me pay for shaming him with another man, despite the fact that he has slept with every unmarried noblewoman under the age of thirty, and a few of the married ones besides.
And this is the man I will marry. This is the man my children will turn to for comfort when their mother is dead.
“I don’t feel well,” I choke out, breath coming fast as I try to keep from crying, from being sick, from joining the colors flashing behind my eyes and exploding in a burst of pain. “Fetch Needle.”
“You don’t need her. I’ll take care of you.” His too-warm, too-damp hand touches my cheek, and I flinch, head rushing with thoughts of how that hand will feel on my body, how that hand will touch places only Gem has touched, places I don’t want anyone else to touch.
It sickens me. It’s too much. I’m—
I roll onto my hands and knees and retch, bringing up cactus milk—the only thing I’ve had to eat or drink all day—and continuing to heave even when the last of it is gone. By the time I’m able to stop, Needle’s cold fingers are on my forehead, testing the temperature of my skin before pulling my hair back and plaiting it into a swift braid.
I suppose Bo decided he’d rather not take care of me after all, if there is retching involved.
I’ll have to arrange to vomit every night for the rest of my life.
“Needle,” I sob, swiping the sleeve of my long underwear across my mouth. “Are you all right?”
I hold out my palm, and her hand moves beneath my fingers. I’m fine. Has he hurt you?
“No. I’m okay. I’m just … I’m ill,” I say, voice trembling. “I think the eggs you sent with me this morning might have gone bad while I was working in the field.”
I know Needle will understand and go along with my pretense, even before she signs, Pretend I’ve apologized. Send him away. No one else knows you were gone. We can keep our secret if we’re careful.
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s m-m-mine,” I stutter, the urge to be sick returning as the lights flashing behind my eyes get brighter and brighter. Shapes and colors flash and disappear, shifting and swimming as I turn my head. “Bo?”
“Yes?” He sounds moments from retching himself.
“Will you fetch the healers?”
“Right away.” I hear him turn to go, and I dare to hope that Needle and Gem and I will escape this adventure undiscovered.
And then I hear it—a soft grunt over the side of the balcony.
A Gem grunt.
SIXTEEN
ISRA
NO. No!
Bo’s footsteps reverse direction, moving back toward Needle and me on the balcony. “What was that?”
“Wait!” I turn and grab blindly for his leg.
No. Not so blindly. I gasp as I catch a glimpse of a pale, thin hand reaching out in front of me, before the darkness steals it away.
My hand. Mine. I saw it. With my own eyes. Peeling skin above the knuckles, long bony fingers, and blunt fingertips with dirt under the nails. My nails.
“Wait!” I cling to Bo’s pant leg, bile burning in my throat as I fumble for his hand and force myself to my feet while the world comes at me in bits and pieces. “My eyes.” I swallow, ignoring the vertigo that threatens to claim me as fleeting pieces of the puzzle flash and fade, flash and fade. “The poison … I can … I see …”
I catch a flash of Bo’s shoulder, his uniform red and green; a burst of light from inside the tower where the candles burn brightly; a glimpse of Needle’s head and the cap she wears over her hair; a fragment of the night beyond the dome, lit up with hard winter stars; movement at the edge of the balcony, large hands, and a swiftly moving shadow.
I have to get Bo inside before he sees.
“We have to go to the healers.” I lunge for the door leading into the music room, holding tightly to Bo’s hand, but not tightly enough. His fingers slip through mine as he pulls away.
I know the second he sees Gem. His cry bursts from somewhere deep inside him, raw and brimming with such utter surprise that it’s clear Gem was the last man he expected to find climbing into my tower.
I spin, and the world spins with me. I nearly fall, but Needle tucks herself under my arm and holds me up. I clutch her shoulder and blink furiously as Gem steps out of the shadows.
“How did it get out of its cell?” Bo makes an effort to sound menacing, but fails. Without his spear—which he seems to have left elsewhere—he’s helpless against a Monstrous man, and he knows it. Fear makes his voice squeak as he orders Gem to “Stay back. Keep your distance!”
“I heard you cry out,” Gem says to me, ignoring Bo. “I came to make sure you were safe.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, swaying as the darkness I was certain was all I would ever know is ripped to pieces.
“You knew he was free?” Bo practically shouts into my ear, but I don’t turn to look at him. “Did you let him—”
“Please … wait …” My breath comes faster as my aching eyes pull Gem into focus. He’s fuzzy around the edges, blooming with black stains that obscure this part or that for a moment or two, but I can see him. I truly can.
“I can see.” My voice trembles. The rest of me trembles harder. “I can see.”
I can. I can see Gem. And he is … nothing like I remembered. His shoulders are wide and well muscled but hardly mountainous. His mouth is generous, but in proportion to the rest of his face. His high cheekbones are severe but elegant, and his long, silky braid is lovely—a thing of almost feminine beauty when compared to the rest of him. Even the places where orange and yellow scales dust his forehead aren’t strange-looking to me now. The scales are nature’s jewelry, bringing out the gold tones in his skin, making his dark eyes sparkle even in the dim light from the candles burning inside the tower.
He is beautiful. Beautiful, and a man, no doubt about it. Larger and stronger and different from the men of my city, but a man through and through. How could I have ever thought differently? How could I have thought him a monster, even for a moment? How could I have looked into those eyes that first night and not seen that we are not only similar creatures but kindred spirits? Not because he is Monstrous and I am tainted but because we are both human in the same way. The way Needle is human and my father—for all his faults—was human. The kind of human who wants to make other people’s lives better, who is willing to sacrifice for the people we love, who puts the good of the majority before the good of the few.
Bo’s voice pricks at my ears again, closer than before. “You see because I made you see. I was the one who told you about the poison.”
“The poison,” I mutter, realizing the bigger implications of my newfound sight. “
How did you know about the poison? Who has been—”
“When I tell my father you let the beast out of its cage, and spent the day in the garden with it with no guards present, he’ll wall up this balcony,” Bo says, pointedly ignoring my questions. “You’ll never leave this tower again.”
Yes, Gem is human. Human in a way Bo is not.
I’m not surprised; I’m only relieved he thinks gardening is all Gem and I have been doing. But then, why would he suspect anything else? When he considers Gem a monster?
“Isra?” That’s all Gem says, simply my name, but I know what it means, what he’s offering. His assistance, whatever I need. I can see it in his eyes so intent on mine.
With one swipe of Gem’s claws, we could be rid of Bo. With a heave of Gem’s strong arms, Bo would go flying over the edge of the balcony, past the edge of the roofs, and down, down, down to his death. I could hide Gem in my room after. I could say that Bo proposed, and when I refused, he was so distraught that he flung himself from the balcony.
I could give Gem the word … but I won’t.
Because I’m not tainted where it counts. There is nothing wrong with my soul. It’s only now, when I have the chance to do something truly wicked and I’m certain I don’t want to, that the truth seems clear to me.
“Isra?” Gem caresses my name with his voice, as if he understands what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, how things are shifting inside me with a speed that makes me grateful for Needle’s wiry body bracing mine.
“You let it call you by name?” Bo asks, his horror clear.
I turn, slowly, so as not to disturb my fragile hold on my focus, and look at Bo with my own eyes for the first time. He looks different than he did the night the roses showed him standing at the tower door. Smaller and softer. He’s a good half meter shorter than Gem, and a few centimeters shorter than me, but broad and solid. His hair is as black as Gem’s, but coarser. Tiny hairs escape his braid to spring around the perfect oval of his face. There, dark, nearly black eyebrows slash down toward the straight slope of his nose, pale brown eyes the color of walnut shells float in shallow sockets, and softly rounded lips perch above a strong but sweetly dimpled chin.