Of Beauty and Beast

his son would be helpful in our gardens, I admit I was less than impressed. Our gardens do very well on their own, thank you very much. What captured my attention was his insistence that his son knew how to grow and mix the healing pouches the Monstrous use to ward off further mutation in their young. I did my best to conceal my curiosity from Junjie, but I’m sure he guesses why I fought for a plot of land and the chance to help the Monstrous create a new garden.

For years I’ve been certain there was no hope for me, but what if there is a way to reverse my mutation? Or at least be certain the peeling of my flesh will never spread? For years, I’ve had nightmares about waking up to find my face and neck as scaled as the rest of my body. Now I have hope that those nightmares might someday be a thing of the past. I could barely sleep last night, I was so eager to begin.

And now the beast is ruining the morning by being difficult. That must be what’s keeping the guards. Unless …

Unless the monster attacked them. Unless they are even now doing battle with it. If that’s the case, I’ll have the creature’s claws cut out.

I should have given the order yesterday when he dared to put his claws to my throat, but I was afraid Junjie would find the guards asleep at their posts and guess at the stupid, impulsive thing I’d done. If he finds out I was alone with the Monstrous, I—

“In the name of that service,” Junjie continues, startling me from my thoughts, “I’ve scheduled your coronation for the week after next.”

My lips part. “Week after next? But I—”

“The plans are under way,” he says, interrupting me. Again. It seems Baba was the only member of court who thought a blind girl deserved the right to finish her sentences. “Out of respect for the violent nature of the king’s death, the celebration will be subdued—simply a short procession and the ceremonial presentation of the crown and scepter. Afterward, you’ll be taken onto the dais to be cheered by the common people, and we’ll conclude with a banquet in the afternoon, during which the members of court will be able to present themselves to you personally.”

I bite my lip and nod my agreement. I want to beg him to postpone for another month or more, but I know it would do no good. Once Junjie has set something in motion, there is no stopping him. He is inexorable. It’s one of the qualities my father valued most in his chief advisor.

I, however, have yet to acquire Baba’s appreciation for Junjie’s single-mindedness. Persuading my advisor to allow me to work in the new garden with the Monstrous—even accompanied by four armed guards—took every bit of stubbornness I possess and then some. If getting my way as ruler is always going to be so difficult, I’ll have to choose my battles carefully, or spend the rest of my life in a state of perpetual exhaustion.

“Good girl,” Junjie says, his condescension leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I’m blind, not simple. Seventeen, not seven. “I’ll send word to the court dressmaker.”

“There’s no need. Needle will make my dress.” I’m prepared to fight for Needle’s right to ply her namesake—she’d be devastated to miss the chance to design my coronation gown—but am saved from the battle by swift footsteps running down the path leading from the infirmary.

I recognize the rhythm of the run as Needle’s even before one small, cool hand takes my wrist and the other begins to move beneath my palm, communicating in our secret language.

The boy is hurt, Needle signs, her fingers trembling.

“What boy?”

The Monstrous boy, she signs, proving that everyone—no matter how immense or terrifying—is a child in her eyes until proven otherwise.

Needle is only twenty-eight, but you’d think she was sixty from the way she talks. The guards are forcing him to walk, but his legs are too weak. He’s very pale. He’ll faint if they don’t take him back to bed.

“Yes, I would like something to drink,” I say in a controlled voice, not wanting to arouse Junjie’s curiosity. He’s too eager for an excuse to forbid me from taking the monster out of his cage. “Would you care for some lemonade, Junjie?”

“I would enjoy that very much,” Junjie says, making my stomach clench. I’d expected him to be too busy to spare time for my imaginary refreshment. “But I have many things to attend to. I’ll make my apologies and hope to share a drink with you this evening in the banquet hall.”

His none-too-subtle hint that I should not take dinner in my tower again tonight doesn’t escape me, but I’m too grateful to learn he won’t be tailing me inside to be bothered by it. With a nod and a softly murmured

“Good day,” I loop my arm through Needle’s and allow her to guide me slowly up the walk.

As soon as we are through the door—stepping into shadows that cool my flushed skin—she takes me by the hand and sets a much swifter pace. I follow her up stairs and stairs and more stairs, nearly as many as there are in my tower, until we reach the top floor, where the Monstrous has been kept separate from the other ill and ailing.

As we hurry down the hall, I expect to hear sounds of a struggle—growls and snarls—but there is only one harsh voice, shouting, “Move, beast! On your feet!” and a muffled thud followed by a moan so piteous, I understand immediately why Needle called the monster a boy.

He sounds like a wounded child.

For the first time I wonder what the creature must be feeling. What must it be like to be abandoned by his family, to be held captive and pressed into slavery to people he loathes? To be alone and hurt with no one who cares enough to insist he stay in bed long enough to heal?

This is my fault. I told the guards to drag the Monstrous from his bed if they had to. A wave of self-loathing rushes inside me, making my stomach lurch and my voice break when I order the guards to, “Stop! Leave the monster be!”

I draw a deep breath, trying to compose myself, knowing the soldiers must be staring. “One of you, go fetch the healers. The rest, give the beast some room.” I squeeze Needle’s arm as one pair of boots tromps down the hall, the guard thankfully obeying my order without question. I can’t always trust the soldiers to do as I say, especially if Junjie is close by. I may be the queen, but Junjie is their true leader. “Take me closer,” I tell Needle.

I don’t need to add but not too close. Needle is nothing if not protective of me. She nearly had a fit yesterday when I ordered her to help me meet with the monster in private.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask the Monstrous as Needle settles me on the stones near where he has fallen. “Is it your legs?” The Monstrous doesn’t say a word, not a word, for a long, strained moment. “I only want to help you.…”

I hesitate, realizing I have no idea what the Monstrous calls himself.

He has language, he must have a name, but in the three weeks since he was captured no one has bothered to ask it. “What is your name?”

“Gem,” he says, forcing the word out with obvious difficulty.

“Isra,” I offer before I think better of it. A prisoner shouldn’t call the queen by her first name, but for some reason that seems like a silly rule at the moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were still unwell.”

The Monstrous makes a sound—a sigh or a laugh, I can’t tell which.

Either way, the message is received. “Sorry” is a feeble word, and hardly sufficient when a person is brought to his knees by pain.

“I don’t want you to suffer any more than you have already,” I say, hoping he can tell that I mean it. “We’ll postpone our work until you’ve fully recovered.”

“What if I’m never recovered?” he asks, so softly that I know only Needle and I can hear him. “What if I never walk again?”

“You will walk.”

“You can’t know.”

“No, I can’t,” I say. “But I’ll do everything in my power to make certain you do.”

He sighs again, a defeated sound. An alone sound.

“I wasn’t always blind,” I say, strangely compelled to convince him I understand his fears. “There was a fire