fitting his front to my back with such gentleness that I don’t startle from my
near sleep as much as drift to the surface of myself like a bubble.
“When I thought you were dying …” His arm tightens, pulling me
closer. “I would have done anything to keep you with me,” he whispers into
my hair. “Anything.”
I put my hand over his and leave it there in silent acceptance of his
not quite apology. No matter how much his words hurt tonight, I don’t
want to fight. I need him too much. And he needs me. There will be no
garden for my people, or food for his, if we’re at each other’s throats.
And what he just said leaves little doubt that he cares for me. No
matter how misguided he thinks I am, he
That’s all. No crack in the dome, no danger, no sign that the covenant is
weakening. Just a festering dead thing that will be washed away if the rains
ever come again.
I give the signal that I’ve finished my examination, and Father
personally reels me back in from my great height above the city. But even
when my feet touch down on the stones atop the tallest building in Yuan,
I’m still floating inside.
Isra is safe. For now. And now is all I want to think about.
“It’s nothing. Just a snake skin,” I pant as the other men unhitch me
from the wire. “Some guts on the dome. Nothing to worry about.”
Relieved laughter erupts as the tension that has followed everyone
attending to the inspection evaporates. Lok slaps me on the back, Nan
clasps my hand for a hard shake, and Ru has the nerve to ruffle my hair like
I’m still a boy, but I don’t care, because Isra’s blood is staying in her body,
and I’m even more thankful than I imagined I’d be.
I can’t wait to tell her, to feel her arms around me when she thanks
me for handling the investigation personally—and so quickly, too. I am the
one who ordered that the crews setting up the rope-and-pulley system
work day and night, allowing my inspection to take place a full day and a
half early. She will be elated. She’ll certainly want more than a kiss on the
cheek tonight, and I will most gladly oblige her. I will kiss her until she
trembles in my arms and begs me to stay and warm her lonely tower bed.
“Are you certain there was no sign of weakness?” Father asks, pulling
me from my thoughts.
He’s the only man on the roof not smiling. Beneath his oiled
mustache, his cheeks droop solemnly on either side of his mouth; his eyes
are as troubled as they were hours ago when he reminded me of my duty
to report whatever I found, regardless of how frightening it might be for
our people.
“There was nothing.” I hold his gaze as I work the buckles on my
harness. “It was a dead snake. There wasn’t a nick in the glass. I swear it.
The covenant is still strong.”
“That’s wonderful news,” he says, before adding beneath his breath
in a voice too soft for the men beginning to dismantle the pulley system on
the other side of the roof to hear, “But even if the dome were weakening, it
wouldn’t change your destiny. You will be king. She has to live only long
enough to speak her vows.”
My fingers grow clumsy. I drop my eyes to the buckles. “I don’t wish
the death of my queen.”
“Of course not,” he says. “None of us do. She’s a dear girl.”
He says “dear girl” the same way he’d say “unfortunate accident,”
and for the first time I wonder if my father hasn’t grown too powerful. I
don’t like seeing him eager to spill royal blood. It feels wrong for him to
speak casually about the sacrifice Isra will make.
“She is,” I say, choosing my next words carefully. I need Father to
understand that I have no desire to hasten the moment of Isra’s death.
“I’ve come to care for her. I look forward to our marriage and wish her as
much life as possible. I know the day I lose her to the garden will be one of
the darkest of my life.”
Father smiles and clasps my shoulder in a rare display of affection.
“You sound like a king already.”
“Thank you.” I duck my head as I step out of the harness, grateful for
the excuse to cross the roof and tuck the gear back into the box Nan holds
open. I can’t look my father in the eye right now. If I do, I’ll see proof that
he thinks I’m lying.
Worse, he’ll see proof that I’m not.
Baba has known Isra longer and more intimately than anyone else
except the late king, but there is clearly no love in his heart for her. Maybe
he knows something I do not, and Isra is a burden I’ll have to bear until the
day of her death. I admit there have been times when I’ve worried about
the state of her mind, like when I discovered her slippers in the mud
outside the beast’s window two nights past. Her maid explained the
slippers easily enough—Needle dropped them on her way to get them
resoled—but there’s no explanation for Isra’s other odd behavior
except … eccentricity. Maybe it’s harmless eccentricity, or maybe, as my
father clearly fears, it’s the precursor to her mother’s madness.
I’m not sure which of us is right. I only know I can’t wait to give Isra
the good news.
With a bow to my father, I step into the gondola and lower myself
down the side of the building, the seventy-meter drop not nearly as
intimidating after dangling three hundred meters in the air to inspect the
dome. I reach the street to find a crowd gathered by the baker’s shop.
Worried eyes meet mine, and I smile, but I don’t stop to assure the people
that all is well. Isra’s subjects will hear the good news from their queen,
who deserves to know before anyone else that the danger has passed.
I hurry through the cobblestone streets—past the towering buildings
where the poorest citizens live with their children crowded five and six to a
room, past the squatter, more decorative buildings where the skilled
workers and their families live and run their shops, past the soldiers’
barracks, and onto the path leading through the royal garden. I’ve been
avoiding this route through the city the past two days, but this evening the
roses hold no terror for me. They’re beautiful in the fading pink light, and I
find myself lingering near the oldest blooms.
I can feel the spirits of the former queens of Yuan here. One day I
hope I will feel Isra’s spirit even more intimately.
Possessed by the notion, I drop to one knee in front of the giant
blooms. “I will take good care of her,” I swear, imagining that the dead
queens can hear my promise. “And when she’s gone, I will visit her here
every day for the rest of my life.”
I smile. Father’s right; I do sound like a king.
Drunk on promises, I rise shakily to my feet, dizzied by how close I am
to being the most powerful man in Yuan. By the time I reach the door to
Isra’s tower, I’m certain tonight is the night. I’ll assure her that death is
nowhere in her near future and then make my offer for her hand. Father
said he wanted to discuss the betrothal without the potential husband
present—as is the custom when negotiating a royal marriage—but I want
Isra to remember the moment we decided to marry as something between
the two of us.
So I wait until her maid leaves the tower to collect the dinner tray
she has fetched for the queen since Isra requested her privacy. Then I
dismiss the guards at the door, retrieve the key from its hiding place behind
the loose stone, and let myself in.
“Isra?” I climb the stairs swiftly, not bothering to keep my steps soft. I
don’t want to surprise her. I’m sure she’s been worried. A shock is the last
thing she needs. “Isra, it’s Bo!” I call again, louder than before, but still no
answer comes from the rooms above.
She must be out on the balcony. She seems to favor it there, though
she can’t see the impressive view of the city spread out before her … yet.
But by next week, or the following, for certain …
Returning her sight. Just another thing my queen will love me for.
With a smile, I push through the door to her apartments, pass her
empty sitting room, leaving the door to her private chamber closed—I
doubt she’s asleep at this hour—and make my way to her music room.
From the door, I can see that the balcony on the far side of the room is
empty.
adventure as soon as possible. After adding fuel to the fire and waking Isra
long enough to assure her that I’d be back before the flames went out, I
hurried up the mountain to fetch the bulbs we’d come for. I couldn’t risk
telling her the truth about the garden.
No matter what happened between us last night, I still need an
excuse to leave my cell. Come spring, I must steal the royal roses and return
to my people.
Still, I didn’t like leaving her alone, even for a short time. I walked as
quickly as my sore legs would carry me and was back by her side by the
time the first pink light kissed the desert.
This time, she was where I had left her, curled in a ball on the
ground, her sweater-covered hands pressed against her lips. I watched her
sleep as I tied the gnarled roots of the bulbs together with strips of dried
grass, dreading the moment she’d open her eyes.
The only thing worse than hating Isra is … whatever
understand. I’m sick to death of this upside-down place, where I crave the
touch of a girl who holds me prisoner, and every other word I speak is a lie.
Half the time I can’t even tell who I’m lying to. Her or myself.
I spend the day angry. At myself. At Isra. At the bulbs she insisted on
fondling and sniffing before we headed down the mountain, at the rocks on
the trail, at the sun and the wind and the dirt in my Smooth Skin shoes and
the needles on every cactus where we stop to drink.
I am in a
my cell. At least there Isra can’t cling to my arm, or brush her body against
mine, or sigh through her parted lips, or tilt her face up with
done, just to put myself out of my misery.
“It won’t be long now,” Isra says, shielding her face from the setting
sun with one narrow hand. “I can smell it.”
“Smell what?”
“The dome. I never realized it had a smell,” she says, wrinkling her
nose. “Like metal when it’s cold. And sour nutshells. Mixed together.”
I grunt in response.
“What do you think it smells like?” she asks.
“We’ll be close enough for the guards to catch sight of us soon,” I
say, ignoring her question. I’m not in the mood to play her blind-girl games.
Not everything has a smell, and if the dome had a smell, it would smell like
death. Slow, creeping, unmerciful death. “We should stop here. Wait for it
to get dark. There’s a mound of rocks just ahead. It should conceal us from
anyone using a spyglass.”
I don’t tell her that my people gathered those rocks, that we piled