Of Beauty and Beast

welfare of your city, I found the tower deserted and you out spreading your legs—”

“Stop this,” I hiss, shaking with anger. “I’ve done nothing to deserve this, and even if I had, it isn’t your place to speak to your queen like a woman you bought for the night!” I shout, regretting it immediately as the pain grows so fierce that tears fill my eyes.

I take a breath and try to blink them away, hating that Bo might think that I care enough to cry over anything he has to say, but the agony only grows worse. The bursts of color return, coming faster, a dizzying barrage of red and green and orange that makes it difficult to focus on his words.

“I wouldn’t … None of this would have happened if …” He clears his throat. “I came here to tell you the dome hasn’t been compromised. I did the inspection myself. It was a snake skin on the glass. I was … so happy,” he says, a hitch in his voice. “For you. And myself. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“That’s wonderful news,” I whisper, bracing myself against the balcony wall with both hands.

I’m shaking again. Shaking and sweating, the misery in my head swiftly becoming more than I can bear. I have to get rid of Bo. I need Needle to help me into bed and then hurry down and help Gem sneak back to his cell. I won’t be seeing him or the roses tonight. I can barely stay upright, let alone go jumping from roofs.

“Bo, this isn’t what you’re thinking.” I hate defending myself to him, but it’s the quickest way to get him to leave. “I was in my garden. Alone.

I’ve been there most of the past two days.”

“The guards never mentioned seeing anyone in your garden.”

“I hid in the wheelbarrow when I heard them coming,” I say, thinking fast. “I didn’t want company, but I couldn’t stand sitting up here doing nothing. But I did too much. That’s why I asked Needle to bring enough food for two. I need to eat. I barely had the strength to get back into the tower.”

“How did you get in and out of the tower?” he asks. “The guards never saw you leave, and I’ve been watching the main stair all evening, and then suddenly here you were, on the balcony. Is there a secret entrance, a hidden passage?”

“Please,” I mumble, not having to fake the weakening of my knees that sends me sliding back down to the ground. “I need to rest.”

I close my eyes, but that doesn’t make my head ache any less. If anything, it hurts more. I stifle a moan, wishing I were in my bed, wishing I could lie down right here and press my forehead against the cold stone.

“You swear there isn’t …” He clears his throat. “You swear you were alone? You haven’t been with another man?”

I want to scream, but instead I shake my head, just the barest movement back and forth. “No. No one.”

Not yet, I add silently, but if there is any way to manage it, I will make sure I take a lover before I marry you.

Marry Bo. The thought was nervous-making before. Now it makes me feel like a fish being gutted. But it’s unavoidable. Junjie will never go along with any of my proposed changes for the city if I defy him. If I refuse to marry his son, I’ll find my chief advisor even more difficult to deal with. And if I relieve Junjie of his duties, my people will be frantic with fear and not inclined to love me for turning their world upside down. They have faith in Junjie; they trust him to keep the city safe. Even before my father died, it was Junjie and his strong, solid presence at the head of the military force that gave the people a sense of security. My father told me as much.

“If that’s true …” Bo’s sigh places him no more than a foot away, his mouth closer to the floor than it should be. He must have knelt beside me while I was lost in the misery of my thoughts. “I apologize. I never meant to upset you. I just … I couldn’t bear thinking of you with someone else. It hurt me. I care for you, Isra.”

I would laugh if I could.

I know what a hurt boy sounds like. A hurt boy sounds like Gem did last night—angry, but desperate for a reason to put his anger away. Bo wasn’t hurt; he was embarrassed, and intended to make me pay for shaming him with another man, despite the fact that he has slept with every unmarried noblewoman under the age of thirty, and a few of the married ones besides.

And this is the man I will marry. This is the man my children will turn to for comfort when their mother is dead.

“I don’t feel well,” I choke out, breath coming fast as I try to keep from crying, from being sick, from joining the colors flashing behind my eyes and exploding in a burst of pain. “Fetch Needle.”

“You don’t need her. I’ll take care of you.” His too-warm, too-damp hand touches my cheek, and I flinch, head rushing with thoughts of how that hand will feel on my body, how that hand will touch places only Gem has touched, places I don’t want anyone else to touch.

It sickens me. It’s too much. I’m—

I roll onto my hands and knees and retch, bringing up cactus milk—the only thing I’ve had to eat or drink all day—and continuing to heave even when the last of it is gone. By the time I’m able to stop, Needle’s cold fingers are on my forehead, testing the temperature of my skin before pulling my hair back and plaiting it into a swift braid.

I suppose Bo decided he’d rather not take care of me after all, if there is retching involved.

I’ll have to arrange to vomit every night for the rest of my life.

“Needle,” I sob, swiping the sleeve of my long underwear across my mouth. “Are you all right?”

I hold out my palm, and her hand moves beneath my fingers. I’m fine.

Has he hurt you?

“No. I’m okay. I’m just … I’m ill,” I say, voice trembling. “I think the eggs you sent with me this morning might have gone bad while I was working in the field.”

I know Needle will understand and go along with my pretense, even before she signs, Pretend I’ve apologized. Send him away. No one else knows you were gone. We can keep our secret if we’re careful.

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s m-m-mine,” I stutter, the urge to be sick returning as the lights flashing behind my eyes get brighter and brighter.

Shapes and colors flash and disappear, shifting and swimming as I turn my head. “Bo?”

“Yes?” He sounds moments from retching himself.

“Will you fetch the healers?”

“Right away.” I hear him turn to go, and I dare to hope that Needle and Gem and I will escape this adventure undiscovered.

And then I hear it—a soft grunt over the side of the balcony.

A Gem grunt.

16 ISRA

NO. No!

Bo’s footsteps reverse direction, moving back toward Needle and me on the balcony. “What was that?”

“Wait!” I turn and grab blindly for his leg.

No. Not so blindly. I gasp as I catch a glimpse of a pale, thin hand reaching out in front of me, before the darkness steals it away.

My hand. Mine. I saw it. With my own eyes. Peeling skin above the knuckles, long bony fingers, and blunt fingertips with dirt under the nails.

My nails.

“Wait!” I cling to Bo’s pant leg, bile burning in my throat as I fumble for his hand and force myself to my feet while the world comes at me in bits and pieces. “My eyes.” I swallow, ignoring the vertigo that threatens to claim me as fleeting pieces of the puzzle flash and fade, flash and fade.

“The poison … I can … I see …”

I catch a flash of Bo’s shoulder, his uniform red and green; a burst of light from inside the tower where the