Of Beast and Beauty (7 page)

“We are the Desert People.”

And my name is Gem
, I silently add.
Thank you for asking. Thank you
for offering your name before you started giving orders
.

But why would she give her name? In her eyes, I’m an animal. My only hope of becoming anything more, of gaining enough freedom to escape the domed city, is to win the Smooth Skins’ trust. So far, none of them have bothered to speak to me. Only this girl. But she is the princess—no,
the queen—
and has power, even if it isn’t as much as she’d like. And she wants to know about herbs Father said I could mix. I know certain common remedies, but I’ve never mixed a true healing pouch in my life.

My father isn’t a stupid man. There must be a good reason for his lie.

If I weren’t on the verge of committing murder, I could probably think of it.

I relax my grip. Almost immediately, my head clears—
grow and mix
herbs
. The gardens. Father was paving the way for my escape with the roses, giving the queen a reason to let me out of my cage.

“I know plants. And herbs.” I retract my claws. The queen gives a shuddery breath. “Why?”

“I have … a field. A large one,” she pants, hands fluttering at her neck. “I want you to help me plant it with healing herbs, especially those that the Mon”—she clears her throat—“that the Desert People use to ward off further mutation.”

Herbs to ward off mutation? There is no such thing. At least, not that I know of. But just like my lie about the poison in my claws, this lie must serve a purpose. If I agree to assist this girl, I will find out what it is.

“All right,” I say. “I’ll help.”

“Good.” She stands, wobbling in her narrow dress. “I’ll talk to Junjie and have guards sent to fetch you in the morning. You’ll be bound when you leave this room, but the chains will be loose enough to allow you to

work.” She goes to the door but turns back almost immediately. “When the guards come, tell them nothing about what we’ll be growing. I don’t want my people to know. Not yet.”

“Why?”

She pulls a silver key from a pocket near her hip. The sight of it makes my damaged legs ache. If I were whole, I could rush her and take the key.

But I’m not whole. Thanks to this girl and her men.

“You seem like a clever beast,” she says, fitting the key in the lock.

“I’m sure you’ll understand. Sooner or later.”

I am not a beast
. I swallow the cry pushing at my lips. It would do no good to tell her. I must show her.
Tomorrow I will begin
, I think as she slips out the door as swiftly and silently as a tear down a Smooth Skin’s cheek.

Tomorrow, I will serve and obey. I will be on my very best behavior. I will use only Yuan words and keep my claws sheathed. But tonight I will close my eyes and pretend I am not her prisoner.

Tonight I will remember the fear in her eyes and let it fill my mouth with a taste as sweet as her rose-and-sugar breath.

“YOU were missed at the harvest feast last night.” Junjie hovers so close to my side, I can smell the oil he uses to shape his mustache.

Needle tells me his lip hair is as long as my hand from palm to fingertip and as big around as my thumb. I take her word as truth. The thought of asking permission to touch Junjie’s face makes me fidget with nerves. Of all my advisors, my chief is by far the most intimidating.

“I wasn’t feeling well.” I bring two fingers to my forehead, faking the ghost of a headache I never had.

“Then you should have called for the healers,” he says. “Your health is too important to the city to take any chances, Isra. You know that.”

“I know,” I mumble, wishing I had arranged to meet the Monstrous and his guards in the field, instead of coming with the soldiers to fetch the beast.

It has been only three weeks since I became queen, and already I grow tired of my newfound “freedom.” Each time I dare set foot outside my tower, fretful, bossy old men shadow my every move. Junjie and the other advisors would obviously prefer that, until I’m married, I pass my days alone in my bedroom surrounded by mountains of pillows. I’m treated like a foolish child with bones made of glass, and I
hate
it.

I long for my walks alone in the garden, for the velvet night sounds and the gentle light of the moons. I long for the time when my ugliness was a secret guarded by the father who loved me. Now no one loves me, and

my secret is a scandal that has set the entire city talking.

“I will have a healer appointed to the tower,” Junjie says. “A woman, so that she may sleep there with you and—”

“Sleep there? In the tower?” I ask, horrified by the thought of a stranger invading my last safe place. “But where would we put her? Needle and I already share my bedroom.”

“She can sleep in your dressing room. There’s enough space beside the bath for a small cot, and she can keep her clean uniforms underneath.”

“Please, Junjie,” I beg. “I don’t need a healer sleeping in my dressing room. I’m not an invalid. It was only a headache.”

“The kingdom would sleep better knowing a healer is minutes from your side.”

“The kingdom is safe. I’ll call for someone next time I have the smallest ache or pain. I promise,” I say, wishing Needle would hurry and get back with word from the Monstrous’s cell and save me from Junjie. The guards went to fetch the creature from the prisoners’ floor of the infirmary nearly twenty minutes ago.

What’s taking so
long
?

“Very well, but the people need assurance that you are in good health and fit to rule. It’s time you dined with the nobles at court, at least during special celebrations,” Junjie says, disapproval clear in his voice. I may be queen, but in his eyes I’m still the naughty little girl who threw paint on the king’s best fur when she was four years old. “You owe it to the city to honor its traditions.”

“I know. I just couldn’t. Not last night,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

When I was younger, I used to beg to be allowed to accompany Baba to the harvest banquet, but he always said no. It seemed wrong to go last night without his permission, without
him
. I’m not ready to face the court alone, and I don’t see why I should have to.

We’re all in mourning, the entire city grieving the loss of their king.

Needle tells me Yuan is painted with loss: tables covered in red cloth, mirrors draped in white, and men with black scarves tied around their arms, and I myself wearing green and only green until the first day of spring, as is tradition for a child in mourning.

“I understand,” Junjie says in a gentler tone, reminding me that there is a heart beneath his gruff exterior. “But remember, you are not alone. I am here to support your rule. I served your father well for twenty years; I

will serve you just as faithfully.”

Though not as long
. He doesn’t say the words, but I hear them lurking in the silence after he speaks. My mother went to the roses thirteen years ago. The offerings are usually made no more than thirty years apart.

In ten years—or seventeen, if I’m lucky and the city’s magic holds strong—it will be my turn. If Baba had lived and remarried, things would have been different, but he’s dead and they aren’t. The fact hangs around my neck like a stone, making it harder to pull myself from the pit of my grief.

The healing garden is the only bright spot in my darkness. When the Monstrous boy’s father first told Junjie his son would be helpful in our gardens, I admit I was less than impressed. Our gardens do very well on their own, thank you very much. What captured my attention was his insistence that his son knew how to grow and mix the healing pouches the Monstrous use to ward off further mutation in their young. I did my best to conceal my curiosity from Junjie, but I’m sure he guesses why I fought for a plot of land and the chance to help the Monstrous create a new garden.

For years I’ve been certain there was no hope for me, but what if there is a way to reverse my mutation? Or at least be certain the peeling of my flesh will never spread? For years, I’ve had nightmares about waking up to find my face and neck as scaled as the rest of my body. Now I have hope that those nightmares might someday be a thing of the past. I could barely sleep last night, I was so eager to begin.

And now the beast is
ruining
the morning by being difficult. That must be what’s keeping the guards. Unless …

Unless the monster attacked them. Unless they are even now doing battle with it. If that’s the case, I’ll have the creature’s claws cut out.

I should have given the order yesterday when he dared to put his claws to my throat, but I was afraid Junjie would find the guards asleep at their posts and guess at the stupid, impulsive thing I’d done. If he finds out I was alone with the Monstrous, I—

“In the name of that service,” Junjie continues, startling me from my thoughts, “I’ve scheduled your coronation for the week after next.”

My lips part. “Week after next? But I—”

“The plans are under way,” he says, interrupting me. Again. It seems Baba was the only member of court who thought a blind girl deserved the right to finish her sentences. “Out of respect for the violent nature of the king’s death, the celebration will be subdued—simply a short procession

and the ceremonial presentation of the crown and scepter. Afterward, you’ll be taken onto the dais to be cheered by the common people, and we’ll conclude with a banquet in the afternoon, during which the members of court will be able to present themselves to you personally.”

I bite my lip and nod my agreement. I want to beg him to postpone for another month or more, but I know it would do no good. Once Junjie has set something in motion, there is no stopping him. He is inexorable. It’s one of the qualities my father valued most in his chief advisor.

I, however, have yet to acquire Baba’s appreciation for Junjie’s single-mindedness. Persuading my advisor to allow me to work in the new garden with the Monstrous—even accompanied by four armed guards—took every bit of stubbornness I possess and then some. If getting my way as ruler is always going to be so difficult, I’ll have to choose my battles carefully, or spend the rest of my life in a state of perpetual exhaustion.

“Good girl,” Junjie says, his condescension leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I’m
blind
, not simple.
Seventeen
, not seven. “I’ll send word to the court dressmaker.”

“There’s no need. Needle will make my dress.” I’m prepared to fight for Needle’s right to ply her namesake—she’d be devastated to miss the chance to design my coronation gown—but am saved from the battle by swift footsteps running down the path leading from the infirmary.

I recognize the rhythm of the run as Needle’s even before one small, cool hand takes my wrist and the other begins to move beneath my palm, communicating in our secret language.

The boy is hurt
, Needle signs, her fingers trembling.

“What boy?”

The Monstrous boy
, she signs, proving that everyone—no matter how immense or terrifying—is a child in her eyes until proven otherwise.

Needle is only twenty-eight, but you’d think she was sixty from the way she talks.
The guards are forcing him to walk, but his legs are too weak. He’s
very pale. He’ll faint if they don’t take him back to bed
.

“Yes, I would like something to drink,” I say in a controlled voice, not wanting to arouse Junjie’s curiosity. He’s too eager for an excuse to forbid me from taking the monster out of his cage. “Would you care for some lemonade, Junjie?”

“I would enjoy that very much,” Junjie says, making my stomach

clench. I’d expected him to be too busy to spare time for my imaginary refreshment. “But I have many things to attend to. I’ll make my apologies and hope to share a drink with you this evening in the banquet hall.”

His none-too-subtle hint that I should
not
take dinner in my tower again tonight doesn’t escape me, but I’m too grateful to learn he won’t be tailing me inside to be bothered by it. With a nod and a softly murmured “Good day,” I loop my arm through Needle’s and allow her to guide me slowly up the walk.