Of Beast and Beauty - Jay Stacey (читать хорошую книгу txt) 📗

of the Banished camp from his daughter. He didn’t want to frighten me, or

make me worry what might have become of me if I weren’t so valuable to

the city.

If my father had remarried and given Yuan another queen, and if the

court advisors had reviewed my case and found me sufficiently tainted, I

might be living in that camp today.

“They live on the outskirts, and are fed and watered like animals.” I

swallow hard and continue. “They can’t own shops or work in the orchards

or come near our animals or children. They can’t have children of their own

or seek help from the healers. Their lives are often … cut short. I would like

to help them.”

Gem growls something in his language, really growls for the first time

since the day he threatened to open my throat. “And you call my people

monsters.”

I flinch. He’s right. I didn’t realize how right until I met him.

I had always taken for granted that the texts on the Monstrous were

correct and that outer mutation was a sign of a corrupt soul, of being not

entirely human. But that clearly isn’t always the case. There is nothing

hideous about Gem’s soul. The same might not be said for all his

people—certainly not for the one who slaughtered my father—but for

Gem, ugliness is superficial. Surely it could be the same with the people

forced into the camp at the edge of the city. If a Monstrous can be so

human, surely some of those Banished citizens of Yuan are more human

still.

“It isn’t fair, I know,” I say. “But—”

“And why are these people cast out?” he asks. “Because they have

scaled skin or are bigger than the other children?”

“I don’t know. It was all decided before I was born. But I do know

this …” I drop my voice again. “Because of me … my … Some of the nobles

worry that mutations might be catching, beginning to infect those who

have always been immune. But if I can show them there’s a cure … or at

least a way to slow the process …” I clear my throat.

It’s difficult to talk about this with Gem. He doesn’t realize how

repulsive the Monstrous are to my people. He doesn’t think it odd that the

Monstrous grow plants to impede mutation but use them only for babies

born with scales covering their eyes, or in other rare cases where health is

threatened. He seems to think his people are beautiful.

“That’s why I need this garden,” I say, tugging another chunk of grass

from the earth and stuffing it into my pocket. “Why the city needs this

garden.”

“They don’t need a garden. They need a queen.”

I blink in the direction of his voice. “What does that mean?”

“You have more power than you think. You could put a stop to this

with a word.”

“I couldn’t.” I shiver at the thought. I can’t even convince Junjie to

change the seating arrangement in the great hall so that I don’t have to eat

on a pedestal at the center of all the gossip.

“Division makes a people weak,” he says. “My chief would never

allow this.”

“You don’t understand. I’m queen, but I’m not—”

“Excuses.” He grunts as he struggles to stand.

“It’s not an excuse,” I say, not sure whether to be offended or hurt.

“I’m tainted. Not as badly as those who are banished, but the whole people

still won’t listen to me. They’ll think—”

“It doesn’t matter what they think.” The sound of his hoe being flung

onto the dirt makes me flinch. “It only matters that they do what—”

“Move away from the queen!” The shout comes from the edge of the

field, making me flinch again. Bo. I didn’t know he was here. He wasn’t with

the other soldiers when they arrived with Gem.

But he’s been doing this lately, materializing wherever I happen to

be. He says it’s because his father asked him to keep a “special eye” on me.

A special eye. I don’t like the sound of it.

“It’s all right!” I call. “We’re only talking.”

“We’re finished talking.” Gem is already shuffling away. The rattle of

the chains hobbling his feet makes the skin at the back of my neck bunch. I

hate that sound. I hate that I’ve never had the courage to ask for the chains

to be removed. “Tell the guards I’m ready to go back to my cell.”

“Are you all right?” Bo squats beside me, his swift breath ruffling the

hair above my ear. I want to swat it away like an insect, but I don’t. Bo

hasn’t done anything inappropriate. Not really.

“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile.

It’s not Bo’s fault that I’m having a difficult time embracing our

impending betrothal. Junjie hasn’t said anything outright, but his

machinations aren’t as subtle as he believes. Bo is always seated next to me

at dinner, always the one chosen to deliver messages to my rooms, and the

only guard allowed to be alone with me. As soon as my mourning is over,

Junjie will be at the tower door with official betrothal documents in hand,

asking me to sign away what little freedom I’ve enjoyed since Baba’s death.

Bo is a good man, a good boy—only nineteen, the same age as

Gem—but even good men can make cruel jailors. My father locked my

mother in the tower for months before she made her fatal escape, and he

held me prisoner for years. What if Bo proves to be a king who prefers his

wife kept under lock and key?

I know it’s my duty to marry as soon as custom allows, but I can’t

help wishing I had more time to adjust to the idea, to adjust to Bo. He’s

attentive and flattering, but aside from his opinions on wine and music, I

don’t know much about him. I can’t seem to scratch the surface to find out

what—if anything—lies beneath.

Winter, as miserable as it is, can’t pass slowly enough this year.

“Are you sure?” Bo asks.

“I’m sure.” I brush the dirt from my hands, moving a degree away

from him in the process. “Gem’s only tired. His legs hurt. He needs an

escort back to his rooms.”

“Right away.” Bo calls to the other soldiers, clearly relieved to be rid

of our prisoner. He’s spoken to Gem a few times, but never more than a

word or two. Gem obviously makes him uncomfortable. I know Bo would

welcome an excuse to tell his father I shouldn’t be allowed to work with the

Monstrous anymore.

That knowledge makes me careful to remain calm as I call—

“Gem?”

“Yes, my lady?” The words are crisp, cutting in their politeness. I’m

the one who told him he must call me “my lady” when other people are

around, but at the moment I hate the sound of the words.

“Will you come to work tomorrow?”

“You’re the queen, my lady,” he says. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I want to ask.” I mimic his sugary tone exactly, down to the hint of a

snarl hiding beneath. “Wouldn’t your chief ask?”

“I don’t know, my lady. My chief doesn’t keep slaves.” He shuffles

away, the rattle of his chains banishing any whisper of protest.

He’s right. He is a slave. But what can I do to change that, when I’m

not much more than a slave myself? I can work on this healing garden and

do what I can to help my people, but I will never fundamentally change

Yuan. In a city bought with blood, certain things will never change. Can

never change. If they did, the city and her bickering people and hungry

roses would cease to exist.

I fold my arms around myself, cold despite the layers I put on before

leaving the tower. I’m always cold, lately. There never seems to be enough

fire or hot tea or ginger soup to thaw the things frozen inside.

“What’s wrong?” Bo’s hand warms my knee. He’s settled down to sit