6
ISRA
“HERE. Use the middle fork,” Bo says, pressing a utensil with a smooth bone-covered handle into my hand. “The spoon is only for soup.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, cheeks flaming as I run my fingertips over the heavily glazed duck on my plate, searching for a place to aim my fork.
By the moons, I
Whoever planned the menu for my coronation should be cast out of the royal kitchens in disgrace. They couldn’t have made the meal more challenging for their queen if they’d tried. I’ve already spilled soup on my dress, sent half a boiled carrot leaping off my plate when I tried to cut it, and dirtied four napkins with my sauce-covered fingers. And there is no doubt that every member of court observed my failure. The banquet hall is positively buzzing.
The sleeves of my coronation dress fall to my wrists; my skirt brushes the floor. My hands were encased in silk gloves until I was forced to remove them for the feast, and my feet are snug inside new slippers. Even my legs are bundled into thick cotton stockings. If I trip and my dress rises up, Needle and I wanted to be sure every inch of tainted flesh was covered.
We were so careful, with my dress, with my hair—slicked into a bun so tight it’s impossible to tell how wild my curls usually are—but all the preparations were a waste of time. I’m still taller than every whole citizen of Yuan. I’m still big-boned and sharp-featured, with hands too large and lips too wide and eyes too sunken.
The common people saw me for the tainted thing I was the moment I stepped out on the dais. They gasped. One shocked collective breath, followed by a silence so thick and terrible I would have turned and fled if I’d been sure where I was going.
The cheering and clapping started soon after, and Needle insisted the people were simply surprised by how “lovely” and “exotic” I looked, but it was too late for her kind lies to make a difference. I know the truth. My people are horrified by their queen. Yuan has never had a tainted ruler. I am the first, the contemptible offspring of the king’s mad second wife. Her insanity almost cost the people their lives, and now her tainted daughter sullies their throne.
I’m sure they’re all praying I will die before having children of my own. As long as I’m married, the covenant will be secure. My king will be able to remarry, and the poor noble girl forced to wed him will take on the mantle of sacrifice.
Sacrifice. Blood and bones. That’s all I am.
The common people cheered, and the nobles have spent the feast flattering me, but the truth is that none of them sees me as anything but a walking dead girl. There have been queens who ruled with wisdom and power, but none of them were tainted. Or blind. Or locked away and hidden from the people. I will have to be truly extraordinary to lift myself above all my failings.
“Should I have the servants bring more sweet wine?” Bo asks, laying a hand on my wrist and letting it linger there too long.
“No, thank you.” I pull my hand away, scratching between my sticky fingers to cover my escape.
The more wine Bo drinks, the more familiar he becomes, ensuring that I can’t help remembering the kiss he stole when he was the first to know I was queen. In hindsight, that kiss is nothing if not suspicious. For twenty years, Junjie has been the most powerful man in Yuan aside from the king. There’s nowhere left for him to rise except to the throne. He’s already married and too old to wed me himself, but I’m sure he finds his son an acceptable substitute.
“You are beautiful tonight,” Bo whispers, his wine and rosemary breath warm on my cheek. “Your eyes are like springtime.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, struggling to keep my expression from going sour. There’s nothing wrong with Bo’s lies. They’re pretty lies. Kind lies.
There’s nothing wrong with him wanting to be king, either. Someone will be my king. It might as well be Bo. He is solicitous and flattering. Our marriage would make his father happy, and the people relieved. It would fulfill my duty as a daughter of the covenant, and secure the future of the city. All good reasons to relax and let his hands linger, but for some reason my body remains tense no matter how much wine I drink.
“May I walk you to your rooms tonight?” Bo asks, his arm snaking around my shoulders, trapping me in my chair.
Around us, the buzzing grows hushed for a moment before resuming at a more insistent drone. The nobles are talking about me. They’ve been talking about me since Needle led me to my chair on the raised platform at the center of the room. The hall eventually grew too noisy to pick out individual words, but before it did, I heard more than enough.
Words like “large” and “mad” and “mother.” Words like “sad” and
“strange” and “frightful.”
“Would that be all right?” Bo’s fingers grip my shoulder, making my pulse speed. I feel like a rabbit trapped beneath a falcon’s claws. Prey.
Something to be consumed.
The scraps of drunken conversation are arrows flying through the roasted-duck-perfumed air, finding their marks in my heart.
I take a deep breath and remember the smell of the newly broken ground in my healing garden. I remember the feel of the plow handles beneath my palms, the sound of Gem’s new brace squeaking as he walks, his gravel-and-grit voice telling stories of his tribe while we work the rocky dirt by the Desert Gate.
Dry grass is all that’s ever grown there, and I know Junjie doubts anything else ever will, but a patch of land is a small price to pay for an absent queen. And why shouldn’t I be absent? It’s becoming increasingly clear that no one intends to take me seriously. There might as well be a stuffed toy sitting on the throne, for all the attention my advisors pay me when I dare to speak up during their interminable meetings. There’s no point in fighting them. I’d rather leave the running of things to Junjie and the other cranky old men.
And so I have my field and my Monstrous to help me tend it, and four guards to watch over me while I work, and Junjie meets with the other advisors and the nobles and soldiers and farmers and shopkeepers alone, without a blind girl getting in his way.
I find the garden a more-than-satisfying use of my time. The work is hard but simple, and Gem has proven himself capable of making the best of his captivity. He is cordial and pleasant and appreciative of the efforts I make on his behalf. Best of all, with Gem, I never have to worry about what I look like.
“Isra?”
I push my chair back, shrugging Bo’s arm from my shoulders as I stand. If I don’t escape this room, I’m going to explode.
“Isra? Are you—?”
“I need some fresh air.” I hold out my hand, grateful when Needle’s fingers immediately appear beneath. “I’ll be back in a moment. Have them bring more sweet wine.”
