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

I finally sit down on the carved wooden bench outside the court meeting

chambers, I’m exhausted.

Isra insisted on seeing every part of the Banished camp—the

shelters, the feeding troughs, the burial pit, even the trench filled with their

bodily waste. It was … unspeakably repulsive.

The other soldiers stayed at the perimeter with the guards charged

with keeping the Banished contained in their corner of Yuan, but I was

forced to walk among them. I couldn’t leave Isra’s side for a moment, not if

I want to be seen as her equal, and, someday soon, her better.

Today’s insanity shouldn’t make that very hard.

What kind of queen willingly walks among the Banished? What kind

of queen tries to talk to people who aren’t much more than monsters, and

all of them out of what’s left of their minds?

Even Isra learned that quickly enough. By the time the fourth or fifth

Banished ran, screaming nonsense when she tried to approach, she learned

to keep her distance. Still, she refused to leave right away. She stayed and

asked questions about their treatment, their feeding schedule, their living

arrangements, and, finally, why the Banished weren’t allowed into the city

center with the rest of the people, since many of them seemed less

damaged, physically anyway, than the people she’d seen there.

I was shocked that she needed an explanation.

It’s obvious to anyone with eyes—even new eyes—that the Banished

display Monstrous traits. They have patches of scales and huge teeth and

hands with pieces of claws exposed outside their skin. They creep and crawl

and cower like the beasts they are. They run from any whole citizen in fear,

sensing, I suppose, in some part of their wretched brains, that we are their

enemies. That they are our enemies, that the Monstrous they resemble

want to destroy us, and our way of life, forever.

“They’re lucky we let them live,” I finally said, too astonished by Isra’s

complaints about the mistreatment of the creatures to mind my tongue.

“Other cities smother them at birth. Or put them outside the gates to

starve. Or worse. We are the gentlest of the domed cities, Isra. We always

have been.”

Isra went pale at that, as if she couldn’t imagine anything more

terrible. She’s spent too much time with that creature. It’s more clever than

most—it speaks our words and plays at being like us—but the beast is feral

beneath the facade. It plots the downfall of our city. I can sense it. I saw it

in his face last night on Isra’s balcony. He wanted nothing more than to kill

me, the way his people have killed mine for centuries, though I have done

nothing but treat him with a civility a prisoner scarcely deserves.

But he’ll be taken care of soon enough. I spoke with Father before

Isra went into his meeting chamber to discuss her tour of the city. He

agreed the Monstrous would have to be disposed of as soon as I am made

king of Yuan. The safety he affords isn’t worth the risk he poses. The entire

court has been on edge since the day Isra insisted on working with the

creature. He hasn’t hurt her yet, but we’d be fools to think he isn’t planning

to. We’ll kill him before he gets the chance and deal with the—

“Yes, I agree.” Isra’s voice drifts from the shade of the arbor covering

the front entrance to the court offices. In the spring, purple flowers will

hang down far enough to tickle the top of her hair as she walks beneath.

Bees will hum and the air will be warm and sweet and we will be married.

And I will have the power to tell her to go to her tower and stay there

if she refuses to listen to reason.

The thought makes it easier to smile as she emerges into the watery

afternoon light, followed closely by my father. He’s dressed in his faded

amber advisor’s robe, the one with the slightly frayed sleeves worn by

three generations of chief advisors to the royals of Yuan. The robe softens

his rough edges, makes him seem more approachable than his soldier’s

uniform.

I’m sure the choice of clothing is no coincidence. He wanted Isra to

feel comfortable with him today, to feel confident that he was listening to

her concerns and opinions.

“I’ll start organizing the documents at once,” Father says, stopping

less than a foot away, but not cutting his eyes in my direction. He tilts his

head back to look Isra full in the face, as if he has never found anyone more

enrapturing. “I’ll send them to the tower for your review as soon as they’re

finished.”

“And when will that be?” Isra asks, fingers twirling absent-mindedly

at her sides the way they have all day. I grit my teeth and force my eyes

away from her fidgeting. It’s enough to drive me mad. If I’d fidgeted like

that as a child, my father would have bound my hands in cotton. “I want to

start the process as soon as possible. Things can’t continue as they have.”

“Certainly not.” Father nods, but I see his eyebrows draw tightly

together. “I’ll have the first drafts of the amendments to the code drawn by

late tomorrow. The next day at the latest.”

“That isn’t soon enough.” Isra’s fingers move even faster, tracing an

elaborate, repeating pattern I can’t begin to sort out. “I need them sooner.

At least the amendment related to the treatment of the Banished. I’d like

to see a draft of that tonight.”

“Tonight it is, then.” Father’s forehead smoothes, and the hint of a

smile gentles his lips. He looks as pleasant as he ever does—even more so,

actually—but I’m not fooled. “I’ll work through dinner and have the

amendment delivered to you in the great hall as soon as I’m finished. The

texts you requested on the covenant should already be waiting in your

rooms. I ordered them sent before we sat down to chat.”

“Thank you.” Isra’s breath rushes out, and her fingers finally still.

“But have the amendment sent to my rooms as well, please. I won’t eat in

the hall tonight. I need some time. Alone. It’s been quite a day.”

“Indeed.” Father smiles. “I’ve never discussed this many

amendments to our code of law in the course of a year, let alone one

afternoon.”

Isra bites her lip and shoots Father a wary look from beneath her

long lashes. “I know this must seem strange, but I’m certain this is right,

and the only way to move forward. I think Baba … what he did … giving me

the herbs for all those years …”

“Your baba loved you very much,” Father says, apparently not

minding if Isra uses childish words. “Never doubt that.”

“I know. I believe he did,” she whispers in a trembling voice, but

when she lifts her chin, her expression is calm, strong. “I was shocked, at

first, but I think the choice Father made was for the best. He gave me fresh

eyes. He allowed me to see Yuan and our people in a way those who have

lived in the midst of this … confusion no longer can. Being an outsider, and

ignorant of many things, has allowed me to see where our city has gone

astray.”

Father inclines his head in a gesture so subservient, it makes my jaw

drop. “An interesting and wise perspective.”

Isra glances my way, and I hurry to return her hopeful smile. “Thank

you,” she says, turning back to Father. “I’m glad we could come to an

agreement, and I’m grateful for your support. I know the other advisors will

find the changes easier if you’re there by my side when I announce them.”

“Certainly,” Father says. “Change, even drastic change, can

sometimes be the only way to move forward.”

Isra’s smile is … dazzling, and for a moment I remember why I wanted