places as I ready myself for the rush. Her eyes fall on me, huge round eyes
in a face so different from my people’s, but somehow still so … familiar.
I hesitate. I shiver.
I didn’t expect the Smooth Skins to look like this. I expected softness
like uncooked dough, empty eyes sunk in privilege-rotted flesh. I didn’t
expect whisper-thin skin peeling like old tree bark, skin so pale I can see the
blue blood flowing beneath. I didn’t expect a sharp chin or a sharper nose
or eyes that seem to see everything.
Except me.
She doesn’t see me. She doesn’t startle. She doesn’t scream. Her
gaze doesn’t waver. She looks past me, into the orchard. I turn, but there’s
no one there. I turn back to find her still motionless, her hand in the
flowers, her eyes focused on some faraway nothing. The truth hits, and my
claws slide back into their chambers with a
so hard, it hurts.
She’s blind. I was about to kill a blind girl. Maybe even a simple blind
girl. Now that I’ve seen her face, there’s no doubt she’s nearly a woman,
but she skips and plays in the flowers like a child. No near adult of the
Desert People would behave that way unless they were rattled in the brain.
A strange heat creeps up my neck, making my face burn. Shame.
That’s what this is. Not something I’ve had reason to feel more than once
or twice, but now it curdles inside me.
This isn’t the way. No women or children. We’re not like the Smooth
Skins. They are as soulless as a sandstorm. We are better. We know the
power of transformation. This planet has changed us, but its magic is good
magic. It would be enough to sustain us all if the Smooth Skins hadn’t
twisted it to serve their unnatural purposes.
and if something doesn’t change, it will lead to the extinction of my people.
This raid isn’t about killing Smooth Skins; it’s about keeping them from
killing any more of
and her blood dripping slowly to the earth below.
“You’ve shown me the nobles’ cottages and the soldiers on the walls
and the desert outside and the monsters who live there,” she says, spitting
each word. “But you refuse to show me what’s right here. Right now. All I
want to see is my face! You promised me. You promised!”
The girl is rattled. No question.
“I hate you,” she whispers, sightless eyes narrowing. “I’ll set fire to
the entire lot of you.” She laughs, a cruel laugh, not childlike at all. “I’ll do it.
I swear I will if—”
She breaks off with a cry as the flowers begin to move. Squirm. Coil
like snakes preparing to strike. The giant blossoms roll on their stems,
turning to fix me with their alien eyes.
Naira’s visions are sound. The roses
and strength and protection from the sun and our new predators; greater
than the blessings our dead bestow as their final flames burn. And the girl
knows the magic. She speaks to the flowers.
A plan takes shape quickly. I’ll trap the girl, creep up behind her, and
hold my claws to her throat. I’ll make her dig up one of the bushes and
whisper the roses’ secrets while she does it. If she’s helpful and quiet, I’ll let
her go. If not, I’ll—
“No,” she gasps. Her eyes go wide. Her thin chest heaves as her
breath grows faster. If I didn’t know she was blind, I’d think—
“No!” she says, louder this time. “Help me!”
I lunge for her, but she darts away, leaping off the edge of the flower
bed, leaving a smattering of blood behind. “The Monstrous are in the city!”
She runs, as fast as the desert wind, around the flower bed and down a
stone path lined with more flowers. “Monstrous! In the royal garden! Help
me! Help!”
I race after her. I have no choice. I need her silence before it’s too
late, before—
More Smooth Skins appear at the end of the path, spears raised. I
know the moment they see me. I see their silhouettes ripple in the yellow
moonlight. I smell their fear. I lift my clawed hands and roar—a warning to
my people. Wherever their search has taken them, my father and brother
and the others in our raid party will hear me and know I’ve been
discovered. They’ll make it to the caverns and into the river before they’re
caught, but they’ll do it without the roses we came for. We’ve failed.
will die—my father, my brother, my friends. My son.
He’s only six weeks old. He’ll be the first on the pyre.
I roar again, a sound so terrible the girl screams and stumbles, falling
to the ground. I leap and land on top of her before the guards can throw
their spears. They’ll kill me sooner or later, but I’ll kill this girl first. I’ll take
her life as payment for the destruction of my people.
I grab her shoulder and flip her onto her back, the better to get at her
throat. Her skin gives like water beneath my claws. Her blood is the exact
color of the roses, red that swallowed brown and black and holds them
prisoner in its belly.
I stare at it. It’s beautiful. Terrifying.
I’ve never killed something so large before. So large or so delicate. I
didn’t even mean to cut her. I didn’t—
“Do it,” she whispers, her voice fearful, but angry, too. She trembles
beneath me, her long body quaking, her eyes once again without focus. “Do
it! Kill me!”
Her words make my blood burn. “You’re so ready to die?” I demand
in her language. “My people would do
A spear falls next to my arm, and another glances off my bare
shoulder, but my skin isn’t like theirs, so thin that it’s practically pointless to
have skin at all. My hide is thick, scaled across my chest, over my neck and
shoulders, and down my back. If they want to kill me, they’ll have to hit my
belly. I lift my head, roaring at the two guards who’ve dared come close
enough to hurl their weapons.
“Wait!” the girl screams. “Take it alive! Don’t kill it!”
another, but I knock them away, rage making my warrior’s reflexes even
swifter.
I am not an
Now my son will die and be burned without ever knowing my face. Because
of them!
I roar again and hope it rattles the loose pieces of her brain. Stupid
girl. Stupid Smooth Skin. Stupid—
“Stop!” she shouts, hands lashing out. Her tiny fists hit my mouth,
bruising my lip as they bounce off my teeth. Before I can react, her fingers
return to my face, gentle this time, curious. I freeze, too shocked to pull
away.
“Hold your weapons,” she orders the soldiers. Boots shuffle forward,
but she shouts, “I am Isra Yuejihua. My word is
, and the Monstrous man’s arm goes limp.
It lolls against my leg, heavy and so hot that it burns through my overalls.
He’s as hot as fire, as hot as I’ve imagined the desert sand would be against
bare feet.
No human could live through such heat. Not for long. I don’t know
about a Monstrous, but he certainly wasn’t this warm before.
“Take him to the cells,” I say, my breath coming fast. “Bring the
healers to see him. Find the king and tell him I’ll meet him there.”
Baba. By the moons, he’ll be terrified. And livid. He’s already locked
me away. What will he do now? When he learns I’ve been out of the tower
and met such trouble? Put bars on the windows? Brick up the stairs? The
thought of being any more trapped than I am is almost enough to make me
hope the poison in my blood kills me.
I shiver. I asked the Monstrous to
familiar, though I don’t know why. I’ve never spoken to a soldier. I’ve never
spoken to any men at all except for my father, Junjie, and now the
Monstrous.
The Monstrous was definitely a man, a man the size of a small
mountain, the only being I’ve ever seen longer than I am. My people are
almost invariably small of stature and petite of bone, with nut-brown skin
and straight black hair. The Monstrous had similar hair, but he stood a head
taller than me, with shoulders the size of boulders, covered in orange and
golden scales, like a fish, but dry and smooth.
No, not like a fish, like … a snake.
The thought makes me shudder as I take the soldier’s hand and let
him help me to my feet.
“Are you able to walk, my lady?” His voice pricks at me like one of
the needles in my maid’s apron pocket.
It’s how Needle got her name. The day she came to give me a bath, I
had just turned five and was still feral with grief. She started unbuttoning