UNBREATHABLE (12 page)

Princess. Me. I realize what she's doing. Where this is going.

Where
I
will be going.

“Julian, isn't it? It’s time you’re treated as the slave you were born as,” she says smugly. His hands freeze.

Her moonlight eyes are cold and calculating. Waiting.

“I will serve her, my Queen,” he says finally. His voice is flat with barely controlled anger.

“It's settled then. You, dear daughter, will be coming with me. It is finally time for you to take your place. You belong at White Plains, not here in this wretched wasteland.” Her face twists in disgust.

My lips are dry. My mother is the Queen of the Jute. The Queen who wants me so she can get to Earth. I want to turn and run.

Julian said she doesn’t know why she needs me, but it can’t be for an heir. And she has the upper hand here, so why lie?

“You won't take her,” Slate growls, coming closer. I had almost forgotten he was there. I rub my arms at his dangerous tone.

The Queen’s eyes narrow to slits. “I can't take my own daughter? Is that what you're suggesting, Slate?”

“Don't call her your daughter,” he spits. No one holds him back this time. The Jute soldiers drift forward like creeping shadows. “You didn't give birth to an heir. You wanted a tool. A way to get to—”

He stops. His eyes widen. “You-Gage-Both of you… you knew all along. You-you
used
me.”

“Oh, it was fun, Slate. But the wait has taken forever.” Slate has gone still. Very still. “How did you think Gage tested her blood? Where did you think he found the equipment? He was very loyal until he broke into the Chamber.”

Slate pales. And I feel the blood drain from my own face. I trusted Gage with my every breath.

She laughs seductively, denying nothing. “Darling Slate, you still are dashingly handsome. And still so young.” She cups her arms around his head and runs her fingers through his hair. He jerks away and storms to my side.

I stare in surprise when he shoves Julian away. Anger rages in his eyes. Shame darkens his cheeks. Fury shakes his frame.

“She's coming with me, Slate,” the Queen hisses.

“No, Rhea, she isn't.” His voice is low.

“Do you dare contradict me?” The wind howls in the sudden silence. No one breathes.

“Yes.” His reply is firm because he doesn't care for himself. She steps forward, her soldiers mirroring her.

“No!” I cry out. Every eye turns to me. One month ago, I would have flushed and moved away in fear.

Not now.

“I'll come with you,” I say hesitantly, “if you promise not to harm anyone.”

Not that I have a choice. She will take me no matter what. She will take me without hurting me, hurting instead those I love.

“Now that's a good girl,” she purrs. But her eyes are ablaze. No one barters with a queen.

“Do we have a deal?” I don't move. I find strength in the power of my voice. She purses her lips and her eyes flash before she hides her emotion behind another fake smile that sets my blood on fire.

“Of course we do, darling.”

I exhale and close my eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Now come. I won’t harm anyone.” She turns with a swish of her robe and trails toward the door as a trio of soldiers slides closer to me. “But you aren't coming alone.”

“Just me, or no one,” I call and clamp my mouth shut. She turns, the air suddenly frigid. I suppress a shiver.

“Darling, you can most definitely come alone,” she says sweetly. I release my breath and she smiles. “As long as the others die.”

“No,” I breathe, my legs weak.

“Exactly what I thought.”

“Do you want to die?” Slate asks me, the moment she steps into the house.

“I don't want
you
to.” My voice is just as hard.

“This isn't about me. I don't know what Gage told them. I don't know what they'll do to you.” With each sentence his voice gets more desperate.

“There's only one way to find out,” I say. “I won't watch them kill you and everyone else. They'll take me anyway. You heard her.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” Chancellor Kole interjects. Slate shoots him a deadly glare and wraps his fingers protectively around my arm. Chancellor Kole raises his hands in surrender. “I'm leaving, I'm leaving.”

“Your Majesty,” someone says. I freeze and turn, but the Queen is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, one of the three soldiers who stayed behind strides forward. He drops his hood and bows low, his brown eyes fixed on the floor.

Your Majesty. Me.

“You must accompany me to the carriage,” he says. His careful monotone is jittery. Wren.

I raise my chin. “Who else?”

He doesn't acknowledge me, and I wonder if he didn’t hear me. But after a silence, he speaks. “The half-breed, the old man and the platinum-haired girl.”

Slate's fingers tighten around my arm. I betray nothing.

“We'll be there in a moment.” I glance at the other soldiers behind him. “Can they leave?”

His eyes dart to mine. I inhale sharply as a shadow of a smile crosses his lips. He’s as gorgeous as all the other Jute I’ve seen. He bows. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

They disappear into the house and I wonder if they’ve cleared Slate’s home of oxygen. But I don’t really care.

The Queen will probably send her soldiers back outside as soon as she realizes we're alone, so I hasten to make use of our time.

“That was impressive,” Dena says with a raise of her eyebrows. There's a wary shadow in her eyes. Her face is even paler from the loss of blood. She leans against her father and her shoulder is wrapped in dirty white cloth.

I guess I should feel proud. Dena’s
complimenting
me. But I feel numb. My mother is alive. My mother is the Queen of the Jute.

I feel like screaming.

“Thanks to you and your mess of a child, I'm going to die,” Chancellor Kole growls.

“You knew the end when you got yourself into this mess,” Slate hisses back. Their voices drop to a whisper and Dena joins in.

Julian stands off to the side, lost in thought. I drift toward him.

“What if you don't come back?” I turn at the sound of Slate's pained voice.

“Gage might have been ready to hand me over,” I say. “But when he was Galileo, he taught me to hope. That nothing keeps us alive but hope. And as long you hope, I'll live.”

A small smile flits across his face, but he shakes his head. “You don't know Rhea.”

“I will soon,” I say. “And once we figure out why I’m needed, I won't let her use me.”

“Those are your words. Your actions-”

“Stop.” Because if I hear his doubts and worries, they will become mine.

“You said I'm your warrior,” I say softly, amending my interruption. He stares at me for one long moment. The wind whistles in the silence and a door slams shut somewhere. Life goes on and on, and always will, whether we want it to or not.

“You are,” he whispers, drawing me close. In my heart is a voice, sad and soft. It says I won't see him again for a very long time. His fingers trail through my hair, soft and loving. My father. If not for the mask plastered against his face, I am sure he would kiss my forehead, as he’s tried so many times.

“I’ve known Julian longer than I’ve known you. Trust him,” he whispers. I lean away and meet his eyes. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Lissa,” Julian says suddenly. I break free from Slate's embrace as the Queen steps out of the house. Her gaze slowly flickers between us. She saw his arms around me. His fingers that trailed through my hair.

And from what little I know of her, I can tell her thoughtful silence isn't normal. Without a word, she turns and leaves.

Somehow, her silence is more frightening than if she had spoken.

Slate and the others make their way into his house, to keep an eye on the Queen and her soldiers, though they’re obviously powerless against armed Jute. They’re weakened by their dependence on oxygen, and forever will be.

I stay outside, needing the freedom despite the gradually increasing heat. It penetrates the sparkling scales on my clothes and layers itself on my skin. Some ways ahead, a few soldiers are busy readying the carriage for the trip to White Plains. Where it is, I don't know.

The houses around us are silent, and I wonder if everyone is at the market now, or still asleep. I never knew anyone well, but now, I feel even more like a stranger, foreign to the rows and rows of homes.

A shadow falls to my right and my pulse instantly quickens. I turn my head to acknowledge the Queen’s presence.

“Did you ever want to know your mother?” She asks. The thoughtfulness is still on her face, softening her features. Making her seem human.

It’s hard not to fall for the innocence in her voice. But then I see the pain in Slate's eyes, the anger. He was used. I’m a tool. I keep my voice carefully neutral. “I might have.”

Her expression remains the same. And I can't help but wonder if it’s all an act.

“You have my skin. My lips. Slate's nose and hair. Gage's eyes, Slate's mother's eyes.”

I press my lips together. I don’t want her to speak of Slate and his mother. I don’t want to hear Gage’s name from her lips. I stare ahead, where the soldiers rush.

“I carried you inside me, for—”

I whirl around. Her face wavers through my stupid tears. “Why are you telling me this?”

“What wrong have I done?” She asks. I hear a hint of her normal, heady self.

“I don't know or care what you've done, but it's what you 
will 
do.” My voice is hushed. Angry. I should stay silent.

“I won’t do anything to you,” she says tonelessly. “All I want is my heir. And that, unfortunately, is you.” She leaves, striding towards the men readying the carriage.

What if it isn’t an act? Maybe all she really wants is an heir. A daughter.

“Don’t trust her.”

But it isn’t my conscience that speaks. Julian comes closer, squinting up at the sun. The early rays cast a warm glow across his features. “She doesn’t need an heir. She’s going to Earth, remember? She needs you for that. Nothing else.”

“I didn’t trust her,” I say, stubbornly.

A flicker of a smile shadows his face. “You did. I could see it on your face.”

He laughs softly when heat creeps up my cheeks. Wren steps away from the carriage and smiles warily at me.

“You may board now,” he says, throwing a nervous glance towards Slate’s house behind me.

The Queen steps out. “’Your Highness’, you wanted to add, dear Wren.” Her voice drips with sweet poison.

“Eh, yes, Your Majesty,” he amends quickly, looking at her feet. He turns to me again. His voice trembles. “You may board now, Your Highness.”

He bows and I feel sorry for him, pity even, that he is treated this way after all his diligence. The Queen watches me, gauging my reaction as Wren hurries away.

“After you, darling.” She sweeps her hand toward the carriage. The words
thank you
rise to my lips, but I press them closed. I have nothing to thank her for.

Dena and Chancellor Kole step out of the house, Slate behind them. He holds my gaze, and I resist the painful urge to run to him. I’ve lived without him for seventeen years, feared him for three days, and now, I want him, my real, true father, by my side every breath of my life.

When he doesn’t move any closer, I don't either. And I think it is safer that way.

I feel his eyes on me as I walk toward the carriage. No one moves, not even the Queen.

Two soldiers stand on either side of the back end, holding open the raw fabric. It shimmers in the sun, ripples like waves, like my tunic, though unlike my black clothes, this is a beautiful shade between beige and cream.

I ascend the trio of steps. Inside, the carriage reminds me of a truck, where people on Earth would load furniture and the like through the back. Only, there isn't a vehicle at the other end, there are four mutants. Translucent, pitiful excuses for horses. I turn away in disgust.

The carriage itself is more exquisite. Long, with plush extravagant seats running along either side. It’s cooler, too. And despite its size, I shiver at how close we will all be to the Queen. 

My mother.

I try not to think of her as that. 

The floor is covered in rich velvet. Vain. The largest and seemingly comfiest seat is at the front, where the Queen will most likely sit. I run my hand along the fabric draped over the arching skeleton of the carriage. It’s smooth and cool to the touch, confirming my suspicion—Louen.

It’s funny how many benefits Louen offers. For human masks, to hold in oxygen and keep out Jutaire's air. For Jute protection, to reduce the absorption of oxygen.

I sink into one of the center seats as Julian climbs aboard. He doesn’t even spare a glance at the grandeur surrounding us before crossing the expanse to sit beside me.

“Are you alright?” He asks me.

I nod and smile at his concern, at the reminder of the many times he has asked me that question, once before I even knew him.

His eyes are distant. He leans forward and rakes his fingers through his hair. I'm close enough to reach for his fingers and stop them. But I'm afraid to. The girl, who discovered she's the daughter of an evil queen and single-handedly killed a small army of Jute, is afraid to calm a boy.