“Is it blood?”
She turns sharply in my direction. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. It was a guess. I saw the thorn under your fingernail,” I say, more disturbed by the confirmation of my suspicion than I thought I would be. Magic fed by blood is dark magic. My people have never practiced dark magic.
“How often do you feed them?” This might be my only chance to learn how to care for the plant I plan to steal. Dark magic or not, most of my people won’t care, as long as it puts food in their babies’ bellies.
“I don’t feed them,” she says. “I mean, I
“Depends on what?”
She sighs. “Oh, I don’t know. Lots of things. If the dome is damaged by a storm and the roses have to repair it, that takes a lot of strength. If blight touches the harvest, or children are born sick, or … any number of things.” She shrugs and lifts a hand in the air. “Any weakness in our city or our people. Correcting those things can make the roses grow hungry again faster.”
“But the roses’ magic doesn’t stop some children from being born tainted.” I hate the word, but it’s what she understands.
She shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t. Which is as good an argument as any that the tainted people aren’t a threat,” she says, surprising me.
“Our covenant has remained strong for almost eight hundred years. The roses take care of us. Surely, if the tainted were something to be afraid of, the roses would use magic to correct their mutation.”
“Makes sense,” I say, strangely proud of her. And hopeful in a way I haven’t been before. Maybe something
“I agree,” she says. I can just make out her smile in the near dark. “I’ll have to remember that when I talk to Junjie about doing away with the Banished camp.”
I slow again. “You’re going to do it?”
“I am. As soon as I can. After we plant the bulbs tomorrow, I’ll go straight to his chambers,” she says, squeezing my arm. “But tonight I want to see you.”
“All right.” I smile down at her, my empty stomach clenching, more nervous than I thought I would be at the thought. I wonder what she’ll see when she looks at me tonight? A smile or bared teeth? A man or a monster? “But I want to give the plants my blood. You’re already weak.”
“No, you can’t,” she says, sounding faintly horrified by the thought.
“It has to be … The roses feed only on …”
“On what?”
“On women,” she says, but there’s something crooked in her voice, a sharp edge that jabs at the hope inside me. “It’s all right. A little blood won’t do me any harm.”
“What about a lot of blood?” I ask, putting my finger on what’s bothering me most about the roses. “You said the roses needed a larger offering every thirty years. How large?”
She falters again. This time, I don’t pull her along. I stop, and turn to her, making sure she’s steady on her feet before capturing her face in my hands. I don’t want her to hide. I need the truth, and there’s just enough light left for me to see her eyes. She can never lie with her eyes. They will answer my question, even if her lips will not.
“How large, Isra?” I whisper. “Do you mean … a death?”
Her lips part, and a tiny choking sound escapes her throat. Her eyes tighten and begin to shimmer the way they do before the Smooth Skin tears come. “No, not a death,” she lies.
“You swear it?”
“I swear, not one of my people has ever died to feed the roses.” This time, her eyes tell me she’s speaking the truth. Either she’s getting better at lying or there’s something that I don’t understand.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I mumble beneath my breath.
“What?” she asks.
“Your ways are strange to me.” I sigh, feeling every mile we’ve walked in the past two days. “Some stranger than others.”
“They’re strange to me, too.” She leans her cheek into my hand, and for a moment she looks so young, so lost.
“It’s all right.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, dropping my lips to the top of her head, kissing her wild hair.
“Is it terrible that I don’t want to go back?” she asks.
“No,” I say, wishing she’d look up.
“Yes, it is. If you knew …”
“If I knew what?”
She shakes her head and pulls away, until only her fingers touch my arm. “Nothing. Let’s go. At least there’s food there. I’m starving. I’m sure you’re hungry, too. We can put off the roses until another night if you’d like. Needle set you free once. I’m sure she could manage it again.”
“We could eat first and then go,” I say, more curious about the roses than ever before. “Could your maid —”
“She could,” Isra says. “Or I could crawl up and get us something from the tower. We keep apples and nuts and other things in the pantry in the sitting room for something light between meals. It wouldn’t take long for me to fetch some, especially if you tell me when it’s safe to climb. I usually have to listen for the guard, but—”
“Why can’t you go in the door?”
“I’m sure Bo has put guards outside,” she says, her tone souring. “He promised he’d assure my privacy, but I know the way he and his father work. They watch me. They’ll want to know if I leave my rooms. That’s why I didn’t take the door on the way out.”
“Then how did you—”
“I jumped,” she says. “From the balcony.”
“Jumped?” The thought makes my stomach flip. I’m a warrior. I’m not afraid of much. But I’ve seen the height of that tower. “All the way from the top?”
“Tiered roofs are good for more than decoration. It’s only a ten-foot drop each time.” She shrugs, but I can hear the pride in her voice. “I’ve been getting out that way since I was eleven. Getting up takes longer, but there are lots of stones sticking out from the outer wall. It’s easy to climb in bare feet.”
“You climb the outside of the tower?”
She nods.
“That’s …” Mad. Outrageous. Courageous. “Impressive,” I finally say.
“Thank you,” Isra says, grinning.
“Crazy. But impressive.” She giggles, and I smile in spite of myself.
“You really do play with fire.”
“I do.” She clears her throat, and her fingers pluck nervously at my shirt. “So … food and then roses?”
“Yes. I’d like for you to see me. Give you something to dream about tonight.”
I meant it to be a joke, but there’s nothing funny about the way she says, “Oh, I’ve already dreamed about you. This morning, in fact.”
My mouth goes dry. “Really?”
“Yes. It was a nice dream,” she says. “A very nice dream.”
“Isra …,” I warn, not sure which one of us I’m warning, or what will happen if the warning is ignored.
“Gem …” She mimics my tone so perfectly, I can’t help but smile. And grunt.
She laughs as she steps closer, wrapping her arm around my waist.
After the slightest hesitation, I put my arm around her shoulders and we walk—hips bumping, her cheek pressed to my chest—and for now we are just a boy and a girl, walking the desert under a sky full of stars.
