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

long finger. “I haven’t placed that grunt. It’s not the disgusted-with-me

grunt,

or

the

preparing-to-say-something-mean

grunt,

or

the

trying-not-to-smile grunt.”

A smile splits my face before I can stop it. I grunt, and she laughs a

laugh like stones skittering down a mountainside, wild and reckless.

“That’s the one,” she says, still laughing. “I like that one. It’s my

favorite.”

“I like your laugh. You don’t laugh in there.”

“You’ll miss the laugh, but not the touching?” Her smile fades.

“That’s what we were talking about. I remember, you know. I never forget.”

Her lips part, begging for a kiss for the tenth or hundredth or thousandth

time today.

By the ancestors, I should just give up fighting myself and kiss her. I

want to kiss her. I’m dying to kiss her. A part of me even says that my

promise to my people compels me to kiss her.

Assuming she keeps her promise to send food, playing at being Isra’s

friend has gotten me closer to helping my people than I could have

imagined possible. Who knows what I could accomplish as her lover? If I

keep her happy, she might even give me the roses of her own free will.

Seduction wouldn’t be difficult. Despite the voices in her head that assure

her I’m a monster, and assure her that she is something worse for wanting

my hands on her, I know Isra wants me. I should manipulate her desire, and

forget about the rest. Who cares what she thinks or feels beyond the lust

that makes her press her body close to mine? Who cares what I feel beyond

the satisfaction of serving my people and the pleasure of being with a

woman for the first time in too many months?

But the thought of that kind of deception turns my stomach. I won’t

use or be used in that way, not unless I have no other choice.

“Forget I said anything,” Isra says. A nervous shake of her head sends

her hair tumbling over her shoulders. She tips her chin down, casting her

face in shadow. “You’re right.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly,” she says in a pained whisper, and her pain pains me, too.

More evidence of my weakness.

“The sun is down.” I take her hand and tuck it efficiently into the

crook of my arm, hoping to spare us both any more of this … whatever it is.

“We should go.”

“Wait.” She stops, holding tightly to my arm. “I have to—I want to

tell you I’m sorry for what I said last night. I’ve been thinking about it all

day, and I … I wasn’t ready for questions about what I thought. Or felt. I

know it’s best for both of us if we—”

“We should go.”

She sighs. “You’ve made me think. When we get back to the city, I’m

going to be different.”

I grunt, but this time she doesn’t find it funny. Neither do I. “So you

said,” I say, unable to hide my doubt. I tug my arm, gently pulling her

forward.

“So I say,” she insists. “I know what I’ve been taught. Now I want to

know the truth. I realized years ago the two aren’t always the same, but

I’ve never had the courage to say a word to anyone else. But I won’t remain

silent anymore. I’m going to ask questions. I’m going to pay attention. I’m

not going to take for granted that Junjie’s opinions or anyone else’s

opinions are fact until I find proof for myself. I don’t care if there is … They

can’t …” She takes a shaky breath, and her fingers tighten around my arm.

“They can’t force me to make decisions before I’m ready. I’ll find a way to

convince them that I’m good for the city, and that the changes I want to

make are in the best interests of all our people.”

“All right.” I fight the urge to reach out to her again, to try to make

her understand the truth about Yuan and the desperate situation of my

people. But I can’t. I don’t trust her. Not yet. But maybe … if she means

what she says … “I’m interested to see this new Isra.”

She smiles. “Me too. And I …” Her smile grows bigger as she turns to

me. “Would you come to the rose garden? With me? Tonight?”

“Tonight?” I ask as I move around the stones.

“Yes.” She nods and falls into step beside me. “I don’t want to wait.

Will you?”

Yes! I want to shout, Yes!—finally, a chance to learn more about the

magic that will save my people—but instead I force myself to wait several

long moments before offering a careful, “Why do you want to go there?”

I can’t let Isra know how interested I am in her magic roses. There are

already guards stomping through the gardens all hours of the day and

night. If she adds additional patrols, my odds of escaping with a plant will

go from not likely to impossible.

“I want to see you again,” she says shyly. “If … that’s all right.”

I ignore the way my chest tightens. “Will there be time?” I ask, not

certain how long the magic takes. “The guards come through the royal

garden every ten to fifteen minutes.”

She hums beneath her breath. “That could be enough time. Or not. It

depends on whether or not they’re being cooperative.”

“The roses?”

“Sometimes they show what I ask to see,” she explains. “Sometimes

they show me something else. The night we left, I saw Bo knocking at the

tower door.” Her fingers tap a nervous rhythm on my arm. “Hopefully my

absence wasn’t discovered. I doubt it was. I think the roses were just trying

to scare me into staying in Yuan. They’ve been … different lately. I don’t like

being alone with them anymore.”

I walk a little more slowly. The way she talks about the flowers, it

sounds like the roses are alive. Aggressively alive. It makes me remember

her words that first night, about their hunger.

“What are the roses hungry for?” I ask.

“What?” She stumbles, but I hold her up, carrying her until she

regains her feet.

“That first night, you said they were hungry.” I watch her face, barely

able to see her features in the increasing darkness. The first moon won’t

rise for another hour or more. Soon, we’ll both be walking in the dark. “You

said the roses were hungry.”

She licks her lips. “How far are we from the dome? The smell is

strong now.”

“Is it blood?”

She turns sharply in my direction. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. It was a guess. I saw the thorn under your fingernail,” I say,

more disturbed by the confirmation of my suspicion than I thought I would

be. Magic fed by blood is dark magic. My people have never practiced dark

magic.

Your people have also starved, while the Smooth Skins grew fat in

their enchanted cities.

“How often do you feed them?” This might be my only chance to

learn how to care for the plant I plan to steal. Dark magic or not, most of

my people won’t care, as long as it puts food in their babies’ bellies.

“I don’t feed them,” she says. “I mean, I do, but that’s not

what … They require a … larger offering. Every thirty years. Sometimes

twenty. It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

She sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. Lots of things. If the dome is damaged

by a storm and the roses have to repair it, that takes a lot of strength. If

blight touches the harvest, or children are born sick, or … any number of

things.” She shrugs and lifts a hand in the air. “Any weakness in our city or

our people. Correcting those things can make the roses grow hungry again

faster.”

“But the roses’ magic doesn’t stop some children from being born

tainted.” I hate the word, but it’s what she understands.

She shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t. Which is as good an argument