Of Beauty and Beast

Smooth Skins. You could come home with me. At least for the rest of the winter.”

“And then who would send food to your people?”

My eyes squeeze closed as I drop my forehead to hers. She’s right. If she came with me, she would starve right along with the rest of my tribe.

Maybe before winter is through. She’s already thin.

“My fate was decided a long time ago,” she whispers, fingertips tracing a path up my chest. “But you can still have a future. With your people. I want that for you. When I’m married, I want to imagine you happy. I need to imagine you happy.”

When she wraps her arms around my neck, a wretched heat fills my head, pushing behind my nose and eyes, as if my soul is trying to find a way out of my body.

“I hated you,” I say, voice breaking. “Until a few days ago, I hated you. At least, I thought I did.”

“I know.” She does know. I can hear it in her voice, feel it in the way she touches me. She knows that I … that I’m so close … and I only want closer.

“I’ll take the food to my people and come back,” I say, threading my fingers through her hair.

“You can’t.” The salty, hopeless smell of her tears fills my head, making the pressure behind my eyes even worse. “I can’t know that you’re here … when I … I don’t want to be with him,” she says, words coming faster as her tears fall harder. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

My head feels as if it will collapse from the heaviness building inside it. I can’t talk anymore. I can’t listen. I can’t imagine Isra with that soldier. I won’t.

I draw her to me, tasting her tears before she opens her mouth and I taste honey and roses and Isra. All the dark and light of her, all the fear and selflessness, all the innocence and daring of a girl so determined not to be caged that she leapt from a balcony to find her freedom.

But now she’ll be worse than caged. Her love for her people—and whatever it is she feels for me—will steal the last of her freedom away. Bo and his father will get what they want, and Isra will lose control of the city before she has a chance to rule. If she does this, she’ll destroy not only herself but any chance for change—for my people or hers.

I pull away, breath coming fast enough to stir the hairs falling into her face. “I lied to you,” I say, cupping her cheeks, forcing her to look at me and see what I really am. “The garden is a lie. It was always a lie. There are no plants or herbs that will stop mutation, and even if there were, I wouldn’t know a thing about them.”

“Wh-what?” Isra’s lips part, but she doesn’t pull away.

“I’m a warrior,” I say, determined to make her hate me. “I was raised as a warrior from the time I was ten years old. I was raised to hate you. I stood outside your dome when I was fourteen and swore I’d tear the city down with my bare hands if that’s what it took to save my tribe.”

She pushes my hands away and takes a step back. But only a step. It’s not far enough.

“Those bulbs we brought back won’t do anything to help your people. Every day we spent digging in the dirt, preparing the field, was a waste. You gave Junjie control of your people in exchange for nothing. You almost died last night for nothing.”

She blinks, but no new tears fill her eyes, and when she speaks, she sounds calmer than she has since we entered the room. “You lied to get out of your cell.”

“I lied to get out of my cell and kept lying every day we worked together,” I say, as cruelly as I can with the taste of her still sweet in my mouth. “I pretended to be your friend while I dreamed of opening your throat.”

She doesn’t flinch. She just … stares at me, gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth, down to the fists balled at my sides, and back again. “You wanted to win my trust so it would be easier to escape.” She nods slowly.

“So … why didn’t you escape while we were in the desert? I can tell your legs are stronger than you led me to believe.”

My mouth opens, and the truth gets dangerously close to coming out. If I tell her about the roses, that I’ve been planning to steal them all along, she will hate me for certain. She’ll give up the idea of sacrificing herself for me, and turn her attention to work that will truly help her city.

But she’ll also make sure I never get my hands on what my people desperately need. I can’t risk that, not even for her. I can’t.

You’ve already risked it.

My hands ball into fists. I have already risked it. There will be no reason for her to let me out of my cell now. I should fall on my knees and beg her forgiveness. I should tell her I stayed with her because I care—it wouldn’t even be a lie—but I can’t.

I can’t lie. I can’t tell the truth. I don’t know who I am or what I’m supposed to do next. I only know that “You can’t marry him,” I say, sounding as desperate and angry as I feel. “You can’t. It will kill you.”

“I’ll be dead sooner than later, anyway,” she says with a strange smile. “I’ve lied to you, too.”

“What?” My eyes wander down her long, lean body, the one that seemed strong until last night in the desert. “Are you sick? Is there—”

“My family are the keepers of the covenant that protects the city. We sustain the roses. We make an offering of ourselves for the good of our people. The … queens make an offering. Only the queens.”

The larger offering. Only the queens.

She wasn’t lying when she said none of her people have died to feed the roses. None of them have. Only her female ancestors have died. Only Isra will die.

Only Isra.

18 ISRA

“MY mother died when I was four. Thirteen years ago.” The words float easily from my mouth. This night feels like a dream—too much has happened for it to be anything else—and the consequences of this confession seem distant, unreal. “I could have another seventeen years. I could have ten. The advisors could come for me tomorrow if they believe the city to be in danger.”

“How long have you known?” Gem asks, a stricken expression on his face.

“Forever.” I brush my hair wearily from my forehead. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. It was never a secret. I always knew that if my father didn’t remarry and give the city another queen—”

“Why didn’t he remarry?” Gem demands, his anger hot and immediate.

“He was doing what he thought was best for me,” I say, more exhausted with every word. “As future queen I was protected. I don’t think my mutation is severe enough to send me to the Banished camp, but—” My words end in a yip of surprise as Gem snatches my hand and half drags me across the room toward the mirror on the wall.

Instinctively I dig my heels into the carpet. I’m not ready. Not like this. “No,” I say, squirming my fingers, panic making my voice high and tight. “I’m not ready.”

“You need to see yourself,” he says. “You need to see the truth.”

I shake my head and throw my weight backward, fighting harder to free myself from his grip. “In a minute. Wait! I—” He drops my hand, only to scoop me up in his arms. “Stop! Please,” I beg, shoving at his chest.

When he stops in front of the mirror, I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away.

“Look at yourself,” he demands. “Look!”

I press my face against his shoulder, inhaling the smell of the desert and Gem on his shirt, hating that he can still smell good to me even when he’s dirty and bullying me like everyone else in my life. “You’re no better than Bo,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I’m only trying to help!”

“Sh!” I stab his chest with the tip of one finger. “You’ll scare Needle.

She’s mute, not deaf. If she comes in here and finds us like this, she’ll bring the bed pot down on your head. It’s copper. It will hurt.” I peek at him through slitted eyes. “Even someone with a skull as thick as yours.”