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

nothing more than a stern look, but he doesn’t stop with a look when it

comes to his son.

He hasn’t struck me in years—not since I joined the military force

when I was sixteen—but I can tell he wants to now. My jaw clenches; my

teeth ache. Beads of sweat form on my upper lip, but I’m too afraid to wipe

them away. It’s best not to move when Father gets this way.

“You didn’t stop to think that she’d want an explanation?” he asks,

his voice terribly gentle, like the slaughterer’s hand when he takes a sheep

tenderly by the scruff of its neck.

“I thought …” I swallow. “I plan to tell her I heard a rumor.”

“She’ll want to know where you heard it.”

“I’ll tell her I don’t know,” I say, “that I heard two people talking, but

it was dark and—”

“You’re a poor liar,” he says, watching me like I’m an insect found

swimming in his bed pot. “The girl isn’t a complete fool. She’ll know you’re

deceiving her. She’ll decide you’re not trustworthy, and what girl wants as a

husband a man she can’t trust?”

I’m tempted to tell him Isra has already promised to marry me, as

long as I keep quiet about her activities with the Monstrous, but I bite the

inside of my lip. If Father finds out I disobeyed him a second time by

speaking about the marriage when he expressly forbade it, and then left

Isra alone with a monster …

I shudder to think how he’d look at me after that. I don’t want to

remember what it feels like to cower at his feet.

“You’ve made this far more complicated than it needed to be,” he

continues, eyes so cold it makes me shiver despite the blazing fire at my

back.

“I’m sorry.” I drop my gaze, staring at the lines on either side of his

mouth, just visible beneath his mustache. In the firelight, his wrinkles are

more defined. He’s an old man. He can’t live forever, and when he is gone, I

will truly be king. I’ll make the decisions for this city, and they will be good

ones. I’m not impulsive. It was affection that made me foolish, but I won’t

make the mistake of caring for my queen again. Isra isn’t worth the trouble.

I’ll hold my tongue until the day we’re married, and then I’ll show her

how a true ruler gives orders.

“Yes, well … I suppose we’ll have to tell her the truth,” Father says, a

hint of hard humor in his tone. “I’ll tell her I placed the herbs in her tea

every morning,” he says, bending to toss another dung patty onto the fire,

though the room is already stifling. “But only because her father begged me

to continue doing so once he was no longer able to administer them

himself.”

I hesitate, but can’t keep from saying, “She won’t believe you.”

Father grunts as he returns to his chair. “I’ll show her the official

order, signed in her father’s hand.” He sits down with a soft groan.

I imagine the pain Isra will feel when she realizes it was her own

father who sentenced her to darkness, and some weak part of me wants to

feel sorry for her, but I clench my jaw against it. Pity is what got me into

trouble in the first place. I can’t afford pity. A king must be made of sterner

stuff.

“And then I’ll tell her the story of her poor mother,” Father

continues, “and I’ll reveal to her all the terrible sights that her father

wanted to protect her from.”

My lips part. He wouldn’t. “But, Father …”

“But what?” He snaps, setting my nerves on edge all over again.

“I’m not sure how she’ll take it,” I say, careful to sound suitably

submissive, though I’m horrified by what he plans to do. I don’t care for Isra

the way I did, but this isn’t right. She’s been living in a dream world. If that

dream is ripped away, who knows what will happen? She might go as mad

as her mother. She might be the next queen to hurl herself from her

balcony. If she takes her own life before we’re married, she will bring about

the fall of Yuan. Isra isn’t completely rational as it is. It’s dangerous to test

her sanity this way. “She truly has no idea, and I—”

“She will have a very good idea by the time tomorrow is through.”

“But I—”

“You what?” he asks, standing so abruptly it startles me into a step

backward. “You thought you’d give her eyes and not have her see?”

“Please,” I say, holding up my palms in an instinctive plea for

understanding. “I have a plan. We’ll keep her in the nobles’ village. There’s

no reason the queen should go into the city center or the Banished camp.

She’s already been presented to the people. After we’re married, I can

handle all interactions with the common people and—”

“You can’t keep your piss in the pot,” he spits. “All you had to do was

keep your mouth shut and wait for the kingship to be delivered into your

hands, but you ruined it. You destroyed what I’ve sacrificed so much to

ensure.”

“What have you sacrificed?” I ask, suddenly angry. “You won’t have

to marry a woman marked for death. You won’t have to watch her die. You

won’t have to know your children will meet the same fate if they’re born

female.”

I pull in a breath, fighting to regain control. I’ve never spoken like this

to Father, but I’ve never been on the verge of sentencing my entire family

to death, either. I don’t love Isra, but I don’t hate her. I don’t want her to

die. I don’t want my next wife or my daughters to die. The sacrifice of the

queen seemed like a sad but noble act growing up, but now it is a black,

twisted thing squirming its way into my life, poisoning every thought and

feeling.

I brace myself, expecting Father to strike me, to shout at the very

least, but instead he sits back down in his chair. He sighs, and the rigid lines

of his shoulders relax as he bows his head over folded hands.

“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” I whisper, not sure what to

make of his response. “I want to be king. I just never expected it to be

so … difficult.”

“Maybe I’ve …” Father runs his hands over his head, pushing springy

gray hairs back into the smooth black of his braid. “Maybe I’ve made a

mistake.”

“No, Father,” I say, panicking at the thought of having my new

torment taken away. I don’t want to be king, but I can’t stand the thought

of not being king, either. “You don’t make mistakes.”

“Don’t I?” He lifts his face. The shadows there seem darker than they

did even a moment ago. “I thought you were ready. I thought I was ready.

But … there are things …” He takes a breath, and his fingers tighten on the

arms of the chair. “The king was planning to marry again.”

“What?” I ask, genuinely surprised. “But it’s been thirteen years since

Isra’s mother died.”

“Yes, and as time passed, the king grew increasingly certain that he

couldn’t bear for his only daughter to meet the same fate as her mother.

He planned to wed Suyin, Rune Lee’s widow. She’s only twenty-seven, and

has already borne two healthy children. A new heir was assured.” He sighs.

“No official paperwork was signed, but I discussed the match with Suyin on

the king’s orders. She was agreeable. Her husband left the family with

nothing. They’ve been living with his sister for two years, but it’s obvious

there’s no love lost between Suyin and her sister-in-law. Suyin was willing

to lay down her life in exchange for a way out of her sister-in-law’s home

and a richer future for her existing children. It was only a matter of time.”

Father leans back, folding his hands in his lap once more. “As I said,

she already has children. The line of succession would have been ensured

for another generation. Her eldest is a daughter, but the girl is only five