Of Beast and Beauty - Jay Stacey - Страница 44

• Предыдущая
• 44/73
• Следующая

married, but I can’t have a long betrothal. I must be married. It’s the rule.”

She turns back to me as I’m opening my mouth. “And don’t tell me to

change the rule. This isn’t a rule I can change. It’s not a rule anyone can

change. Some things just are the way they are.”

I grunt—because I was going to tell her to change the rule—and she

smiles a sad smile.

“But thank you,” she says, with another peek at the corner. “It was

good of you to try.”

I catch one of her curls and twine it around my finger. I know why

she’s looking at the corner. She’s ready, but suddenly I’m not. “I’m a good

prisoner, then?”

“You’ve become a good friend,” she says, lifting a hand to my face.

Her fingers are cool, but that’s not why I shiver. “And you won’t be my

prisoner for a second longer than necessary. I’ll let you go, Gem. I promise I

will. And I’ll send food with you, and put more outside the gate for as long

as I live.”

“Isra …” This wasn’t what … I never thought she’d … “What about

Junjie? And your people? You said they would never—”

“I’ll give Junjie what he wants. In return, he’ll give me some things

that I want.” She steps closer, engulfing me in the smell of roses. Roses on

her skin from her bath, roses on her breath, roses lingering in her hair. The

perfume mingles with her Isra scent and becomes something darker, more

dangerous than any flower.

I thought I couldn’t want her more than I did last night, but now, with

that soft look in her eyes, and brave words on her lips, I want her so badly,

it hurts. I more than want her, and that hurts even more.

“Junjie will free you,” she continues. “Or I will refuse to marry Bo.”

I wrap my arm around her waist. “I won’t let you pay for my freedom

with yours.”

“I’m not free. I’ve never been free.”

“But you could be.” I move my hand to her back, skimming my

fingers up the length of her spine. Her bones are like beads on a necklace,

delicate but strong. “With the right clothing, the desert might hold no

danger for Smooth Skins. You could come home with me. At least for the

rest of the winter.”

“And then who would send food to your people?”

My eyes squeeze closed as I drop my forehead to hers. She’s right. If

she came with me, she would starve right along with the rest of my tribe.

Maybe before winter is through. She’s already thin.

“My fate was decided a long time ago,” she whispers, fingertips

tracing a path up my chest. “But you can still have a future. With your

people. I want that for you. When I’m married, I want to imagine you

happy. I need to imagine you happy.”

When she wraps her arms around my neck, a wretched heat fills my

head, pushing behind my nose and eyes, as if my soul is trying to find a way

out of my body.

“I hated you,” I say, voice breaking. “Until a few days ago, I hated

you. At least, I thought I did.”

“I know.” She does know. I can hear it in her voice, feel it in the way

she touches me. She knows that I … that I’m so close … and I only want

closer.

“I’ll take the food to my people and come back,” I say, threading my

fingers through her hair.

“You can’t.” The salty, hopeless smell of her tears fills my head,

making the pressure behind my eyes even worse. “I can’t know that you’re

here … when I … I don’t want to be with him,” she says, words coming

faster as her tears fall harder. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

My head feels as if it will collapse from the heaviness building inside

it. I can’t talk anymore. I can’t listen. I can’t imagine Isra with that soldier. I

won’t.

I draw her to me, tasting her tears before she opens her mouth and I

taste honey and roses and Isra. All the dark and light of her, all the fear and

selflessness, all the innocence and daring of a girl so determined not to be

caged that she leapt from a balcony to find her freedom.

But now she’ll be worse than caged. Her love for her people—and

whatever it is she feels for me—will steal the last of her freedom away. Bo

and his father will get what they want, and Isra will lose control of the city

before she has a chance to rule. If she does this, she’ll destroy not only

herself but any chance for change—for my people or hers.

I pull away, breath coming fast enough to stir the hairs falling into

her face. “I lied to you,” I say, cupping her cheeks, forcing her to look at me

and see what I really am. “The garden is a lie. It was always a lie. There are

no plants or herbs that will stop mutation, and even if there were, I

wouldn’t know a thing about them.”

“Wh-what?” Isra’s lips part, but she doesn’t pull away.

“I’m a warrior,” I say, determined to make her hate me. “I was raised

as a warrior from the time I was ten years old. I was raised to hate you. I

stood outside your dome when I was fourteen and swore I’d tear the city

down with my bare hands if that’s what it took to save my tribe.”

She pushes my hands away and takes a step back. But only a step. It’s

not far enough.

“Those bulbs we brought back won’t do anything to help your

people. Every day we spent digging in the dirt, preparing the field, was a

waste. You gave Junjie control of your people in exchange for nothing. You

almost died last night for nothing.”

She blinks, but no new tears fill her eyes, and when she speaks, she

sounds calmer than she has since we entered the room. “You lied to get out

of your cell.”

“I lied to get out of my cell and kept lying every day we worked

together,” I say, as cruelly as I can with the taste of her still sweet in my

mouth. “I pretended to be your friend while I dreamed of opening your

throat.”

She doesn’t flinch. She just … stares at me, gaze flicking from my eyes

to my mouth, down to the fists balled at my sides, and back again. “You

wanted to win my trust so it would be easier to escape.” She nods slowly.

“So … why didn’t you escape while we were in the desert? I can tell your

legs are stronger than you led me to believe.”

My mouth opens, and the truth gets dangerously close to coming

out. If I tell her about the roses, that I’ve been planning to steal them all

along, she will hate me for certain. She’ll give up the idea of sacrificing

herself for me, and turn her attention to work that will truly help her city.

But she’ll also make sure I never get my hands on what my people

desperately need. I can’t risk that, not even for her. I can’t.

You’ve already risked it.

My hands ball into fists. I have already risked it. There will be no

reason for her to let me out of my cell now. I should fall on my knees and

beg her forgiveness. I should tell her I stayed with her because I care—it

wouldn’t even be a lie—but I can’t.

I can’t lie. I can’t tell the truth. I don’t know who I am or what I’m

supposed to do next. I only know that “You can’t marry him,” I say,

sounding as desperate and angry as I feel. “You can’t. It will kill you.”

“I’ll be dead sooner than later, anyway,” she says with a strange

smile. “I’ve lied to you, too.”

“What?” My eyes wander down her long, lean body, the one that

seemed strong until last night in the desert. “Are you sick? Is there—”

“My family are the keepers of the covenant that protects the city. We

sustain the roses. We make an offering of ourselves for the good of our

people. The … queens make an offering. Only the queens.”

The larger offering. Only the queens.

She wasn’t lying when she said none of her people have died to feed

• Предыдущая
• 44/73
• Следующая