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

that they have nothing to fear from those who look different.

“Tomorrow, then?” I ask, voice rising sharply as Needle hurries past

me to the tower stair and Gem follows without saying a word.

What have I done? Why does he suddenly seem so cold?

“Gem?” My voice breaks in the middle of his name, betraying how

much it hurts for him to leave this way.

He stops, his entire back rigid, before he turns and walks back down

the hall toward me. He looks angry, furious, and for a moment I’m afraid of

what he’ll say, but he doesn’t say a word. He pulls me into his arms, lifting

me off my feet, silencing my breath of surprise with a kiss.

Kiss. The word is inadequate for urgent hands and bruised lips and

his taste filling my mouth and his breath in my lungs and need strong

enough to rattle my bones, shake me to the core until all I can do is dig my

fingers into his shoulders and hope to survive being so close. It’s wonderful

and awful and all I ever want. Forever. I don’t want it to stop. I never want

him to leave.

He has to leave. I know that, but knowing doesn’t keep my chest

from aching like it will split in two when Gem sets me back on my feet.

“Don’t go,” I whisper, my arms still tangled around his neck.

“Find the covenant,” he says. “If it’s written, you should be able to

read it for yourself. There has to be some way.”

Some way to save me without destroying my city. Some way to spare

his people without sacrificing the safety of mine.

“I’ll ask Junjie to bring it to me tomorrow,” I promise. “We can read it

together.”

He smoothes my hair from my face. “But I’m still learning. I—”

“That’s all right. Needle can read. She can—”

Needle. Oh, no. Oh. No …

The blood drains from my face as I peek around Gem’s wide body to

find Needle standing at the door to the stairs, her eyes fixed on the carpet

and the ghost of a smile on her lips. There’s no chance she missed that kiss,

and still, she’s smiling.

I didn’t think it was possible to love her more, but I do. Instantly.

“Bring it to me, then,” Gem says, backing away. “If there are words I

don’t know, Needle can help.”

I nod and warn them to be careful as they start down the stairs. As

soon as they’re out of sight, I hurry to the balcony to search the moonlit

world far below for soldiers, but there are none in sight. Not on the path

that runs by the tower, not in the cabbage fields, not in the browning stalks

that are all that’s left of the autumn sunflowers.

When the two shadows—one slight and swift, one tall and broad but

no less swift—emerge from the tower, they cross the road unobserved.

Well, almost unobserved.

I observe them. I watch them with the miracle of my new eyes until

they disappear into the field of dead flowers, bound for the orchard beyond

and the royal garden beyond that, where the roses will see them race by,

hurrying to get Gem back into his cell before he’s discovered.

I imagine the way the blooms will twist subtly on their thick stems,

turning their unblinking eyes on my friend and the mutant who kissed me,

and I shiver. What was it Gem said? Something darker … Something darker

was at work.

It isn’t hard to imagine something darker at work in the earth

beneath the roses, something greedy and so desperate for blood that it

refuses to sustain life without taking life in return. Perhaps the covenant

will shed some light on that dark thing’s identity. I will ask Junjie to bring

me the document first thing, before the sun has a chance to rise or his son

has a chance to come knocking at his door telling tales.

And then I will ask for a tour of my city and watch his face very

carefully as he realizes the queen is no longer blind.

TWENTY

GEM

QUEENS. Only queens. Only Isra.

The words repeat over and over as I lie on the hard bed in my cell

with my hands propped beneath my throbbing head. I watch the moonlight

move across the ceiling, and remain sleepless even though my body aches

with exhaustion.

The magic of Yuan might still save my people, but—

Queens.

—if Isra’s right, then the magic doesn’t lie in the roses at all, it lies

in—

Only queens.

—the covenant, and the blood of the queen of Yuan. Once I read the

covenant and learn the sacred words Isra spoke of, I could take her. I could

take her and the roses—

Only Isra.

—to be safe. We could marry according to the Smooth Skin tradition.

From what she’s said, it seems that would be enough to join me to the

magic, allow me to carry on the covenant when she’s gone.

If she’s going to die to save a nation, why shouldn’t it be mine?

Haven’t my people suffered enough? Isn’t it time we had abundance, even

at the cost of a life now and then? Better one life than many. And if she’s

going to die …

If she’s going to die …

Only queens.

I don’t want her to die. By the ancestors, please …

Isra.

—there has to be another way.

BO

“I’M sorry.” My voice is unnaturally loud in the silent room. Father

hasn’t said a word for the past half hour. He simply sits there, turned in his

chair, studying the moonlight shimmering on the lake outside his window,

while I stand at attention before the fire until my shoulders cramp and

sweat runs down the valley of my spine. “Baba, please—”

“You aren’t a child,” he snaps without bothering to look my way.

“Stop using childish words.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” I say, then, “Captain,” because I’m not sure which

he’d prefer now that I’ve disappointed him so completely. I shouldn’t have

told him the truth.

But I had to tell. There was no avoiding it. Isra can see, and she wants

to know why. I wouldn’t be surprised to find her on Father’s doorstep first

thing in the morning. Father would have known soon enough. Better that

he heard it from me.

“I thought I was doing right by my future wife,” I say. “That’s all. I

never meant to defy you.”

He finally turns to me, but I wish he hadn’t. The utter absence of

feeling in his eyes makes my heart lurch. He has never looked at me like

this, even when he used a switch to express his displeasure with his only

son.

“You disobeyed an order from your father, who is also your superior,

and violated the wishes of your former king,” he says, every word as crisp

as the folds ironed into his uniform. My mother irons his clothes herself.

The maids never get the creases quite right, and everything must be exactly

right in my father’s house. Perfect. If not, everyone under his roof pays the

price. “That is the definition of defiance.”

“I—I’m sorry,” I stammer again, hating the whine creeping into my

voice. Father’s right; I sound like a child.

It’s Isra’s fault. I never should have told her about the tea. I should

have let her live out the rest of her life in the darkness. What difference will

it really make? Will sight make her happy, and even if it does, does her

happiness matter? The kingdom doesn’t require her happiness, only her

blood.

“You’re impulsive, Bo. That isn’t a good trait in a king.” Father rises

from his chair and crosses to stand too close, the way he does when one of

his soldiers has stepped out of line. I’ve seen Father break men with