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

too small for me to fit more than my fingers through, and there is no other

window, no door, no way out.

But one. Maybe. One.

“Isra? Please, listen,” Bo says. “The dome is falling. We’ll all die by

tomorrow morning without your help.”

You might die sooner than that.

I press my fist to my mouth and hum a tune I don’t recognize as I

throw open the trunk at the base of Needle’s bed and pull the knife with

the jeweled scabbard from beneath a stack of lavender-scented sheets. I

found the blade among my mother’s things when Needle and I were

searching for places to hide the bricks. I don’t know why Mother had it or if

she ever put it to use, but I swear I can feel her spirit within me as I take it

in my hand.

“Your father would be ashamed,” Junjie says. “He didn’t raise you to

be a coward.”

I’m not a coward. But can I really …

I can’t even think the thought. I’ve never wanted to take a life. Never.

Not even Junjie’s, and certainly not Bo’s. He’s wrong and more blind than I

ever was, and jealous and trapped in the deep dark of his father’s shadow,

but he’s not wicked. He doesn’t deserve to be murdered.

Neither do you. They’ve given you no other choice.

“Get the key from behind the stone. It opens every door in this

tower,” Junjie orders beyond the door, before adding in a gentler voice,

“This is your last chance, Isra. It’s not too late to die with honor.”

My last chance. He’s right. This is my last, and only, chance.

My fingers tighten around the knife. I ease the blade from its sheath,

toss the heavy gold scabbard onto the bed, and walk on cat feet toward the

door, my breath heavy in my lungs, my fist clenching the hilt of the knife

until its jewels dig into my flesh.

With an unexpectedly steady hand, I reach for the lock. I’ll wait until I

hear Bo start down the stairs. Then I’ll throw open the door. Surprise will

be my only ally. Junjie is shorter than I am, but stronger and trained to

fight. I’ll have one chance, one moment to—

“No,” Bo says. I pause, hand hovering over the lock. “I won’t.”

“Then I’ll get the key myself,” Junjie says.

“No, Father.” There are shuffling sounds outside, and then Bo

continues in as strong a voice as I’ve ever heard from him. “She’s my wife,

and I’ll decide what to do with her.”

I’m about to tell him he has as much right to decide my fate as the

ants I found in my fruit tray this morning, but Junjie beats me to it.

“You have no rights. You lost the right to decide anything when

you—”

“I won’t see her murdered,” Bo says. “That’s not the way of our city.

It never has been. The queens gave their blood as a gift to Yuan. Even Isra’s

mother chose to jump from that balcony. I wish Isra would give us that gift,

but that’s her choice.”

My hand drops to my side; my fingers loosen on the hilt of the knife.

Bo truly does have a heart. Not enough for me to love him, but enough for

me to respect him more than I thought I could.

“Her choice will be the ruin of the city,” Junjie says, pain thickening

his voice. “Yuan will fall, Son. Forever. There is no going back.”

“I know.” Bo’s whisper is so soft that I must lean in and press my ear

to the door to catch the rest of his words. “But there’s nothing we can do,

not if we choose to be the kind of men who deserve to be kings and leaders

of kings. We can’t make the same mistake twice. Murder isn’t the way.”

Can’t make the same mistake twice … Murder isn’t the way …

“What does that mean?” My voice is loud enough to hurt my ears, so

I know that it penetrates the wood, but there is no answer. Not from Bo,

and not from his father, whom, until now, I’ve never known to be at a loss

for words. “Who else did you murder?” I slam my hand into the door hard

enough to make my palm sting. “Who?”

Bo told me Gem escaped the night Bo sent the soldiers after him, but

what if he was lying? What if the soldiers killed Gem? What if that’s the

reason he hasn’t come for me the way he promised?

“Tell me who you killed!” I shout, trying not to panic. “Tell—”

“You should go, Father. Take the soldiers with you for protection and

head south with the others,” Bo says, ignoring me as he’s always done

when what I have to say is inconvenient. “I’ll stay here with Isra.”

What? All the angry words ready at my lips fall away. What does he

mean he’ll “stay with Isra”?

“No,” Junjie says. “That’s ridiculous. You’ll come with me.”

“I’m king. I will stay with the city through all trials. It’s what I swore

to do when Isra and I were married.”

“No, Son, please.” Junjie’s words end in a barking sound and then

another. It takes a moment for me to realize the sounds are sobs, that

Junjie—the most intimidating, respected, terrifying man in Yuan—is crying.

“I never wanted this.”

“It’s all right,” Bo says, then whispers something too soft for me to

hear, something that makes Junjie’s barking become a pitiful moan.

I would feel for him, but it’s impossible to feel for a man who lied to

me, betrayed me, held me captive, and—if not for his son’s

intervention—would have killed me without a second thought.

“I’ll tell the story to the people in Port South,” Junjie says, pulling

himself together enough to speak. “They’ll know my son died a hero. A true

king.”

“Tell Mother I love her,” Bo says, his voice muffled. I imagine him

embracing his wretched father, and I have half a mind to throw open the

door and stab them both.

But I don’t. I wait until Junjie’s footsteps fade away down the hall,

before I say, “I want you to leave, too.”

“I can’t.” Bo sounds wearier, more fearful now that his father is gone.

“I made a promise.”

“You can keep your promise as well outside as you can here by my

door,” I snap. “I don’t want to die this close to someone I despise.”

Bo sighs. “I could have loved you, Isra. If you’d let me.”

“Who did you kill?” I ask, refusing to confess that I appreciate his

decency, or that—vow or no vow—I see no reason for him to die with me,

until I know what he’s done.

“I didn’t kill anyone. It was … someone else.”

“Your father.”

“Yes.” Bo sighs again.

“Who did … Is it …” I bite my lip until my flesh feels bruised, but that

isn’t the reason tears gather in my eyes. “Is Gem dead?”

“Gem?” After a moment of silence, Bo laughs. “Even now, your

monster is all you can think about.”

My monster. I wish Gem were mine; I wish it with everything in me.

“Your monster might be dead, but my father didn’t kill him,” Bo says,

sending a shiver of relief through my body. My breath rushes out and my

forehead falls against the door with a thud. “He did something worse. At

least I believe it’s worse. Who knows what you’ll think, since you obviously

don’t care for your own people anymore, but I—”

“I care for them more than you ever will. I’ve told you the truth,” I

snap, sick to death of this same argument. I told Bo about the queen’s

diary. I even tore out a few pages for him to look at—those I knew wouldn’t

give the secret of the covenant away—but he refuses to believe in the Dark

Heart. “The power sustaining the domed cities is evil. The people are better

off.”

“You’re mad. At least half our people will die of exposure or

Monstrous attack before they reach Port South. You’ve sentenced

hundreds of innocents to death.”

“Better death than life paid for by the suffering of others.”

“The suffering of the Monstrous, you mean,” he says, bitterness