UNBREATHABLE (18 page)

“We never—I don’t even know,” I trail off. She nods, understanding. I never expected Dena to understand me.

“He loves you though,” she says softly. “After his mom died, he was like this ghost of himself. He burned all his drawings. He tried to kill himself so many times, that’s what he was trying to do in the Chamber when you came. But now, his face isn’t as pale, he smiles. He’s… living again.”

My throat is filled with a million tears of happiness.

“Drawings?” I force the word from my lips.
He loves you.

She nods. “He’s an incredible artist.”

I want to say something to fill in the silence, but I can’t. She watched Julian slowly distance her and slowly fall in love with me, when I didn’t even notice. I doubt even
he
noticed it.

“I just… I want him to be happy,” she says finally. Her face falls. “My dad wanted you to have this.”

She wiggles her hand into her pocket and pulls something out with two fingers.

The replica of Earth Chancellor Kole had that day in the training room.

“He said to fight, or we won’t go anywhere.” Her voice breaks. “I know I was a jerk before, but”—she stops—“truth is, you’re our only hope. I mean, look at me, I’m strapped to a damn table. Don’t let my dad’s death go wasted.”

I take the ball from her hand, its tiny weight magnanimous. “I won’t,” I whisper.

“And Lissa?” Her dark eyes blur in my vision. “See that case over there?”

I follow her line of sight to a black bundle on a table against the wall.

“There are empty vials in there. Do you think you can fill them with blood?”

“M-my blood?” I ask, my eyes wide. She nods. “But why?”

“Just do it, there isn’t time for me to spell everything out for you.” I blink at her command and do as she says. I open the case. Five empty vials glint up at me, reflecting the light from above and my own pale face.

“Hurry,” Dena calls. I take it to her and rest the case on her stomach, ignoring her glare.

“Can you do it?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m strapped to a table, Lissa.”

“Here,” I say. I screw the needle to the top of the first vial and slip it in her hand before crouching down beside her. She snorts when I guide the needle to the inside of my arm and carefully slip it into the vein.

“You know I’m not doing anything but holding it, right?” She asks dryly.

I don’t answer. I watch the needle closely. I can see the blood pulling against my skin, the vial slowly filling with dark, thick liquid. What a simple substance blood is.

I fill the rest myself, watching as the blood sloshes against the glass and the needle pucker my skin. It’s almost mesmerizing.

Dena laughs when I seal the case again. “I’m glad there aren’t any
more
vials or you’ll sit here all day and drain your blood yourself.”

I make a face. I’ve read that blood loss can bring fatigue and dizziness. But I feel nothing and it takes me a moment to remember Gage said my blood reproduces quickly. Chances are my body has already replaced the lost blood.

“Hide it under that table,” Dena says. I go to another, matching table and slip the case beneath the three-inch gap between the table and the tile.

“What will you do with it?” I ask. She shrugs. I raise my eyebrows.

“Look, you’ve spent long enough in here. Go,” she says. She’s right. I turn quickly. “Oh, and come back tomorrow at midnight. Ilen says there’s a way out of here.”

Ilen
is
on our side.

“I will.” After the ceremony, I will.

As I make my way to the unused, forgotten door, movement catches my eyes. A blue flame flickers inside a suspended tube, reaching higher with each of its gasps. Fire is dangerous. Risky. Like this game Dena suggests.

Queen Rhea is as unpredictable as the flame. One wrong move and she’ll kill Dena without a thought—humans are abundant in her eyes.

The flame flickers in answer to my thoughts. And I hear Gage's words from long ago.

Never, ever, play with fire, Lissa
.

I sink into my bed and roll the ball of Earth between my palms. I don’t know what good Dena could do strapped to a table in a room full of combustibles and unknown things. But she said there is a catalyst. If she knows what it is, we could use it.

A soft knock shatters my thoughts. I wouldn’t have heard it if I wasn’t waiting for it. I shove the replica beneath my pillow and drag myself off the bed, cracking the door open the slightest bit.

“Can I come in?” Julian asks hesitantly. I let him in and close it with a glance at the empty hall.

We’re both silent for what seems like an eternity. I can't bring myself to look at him after what Dena said, so I look at the floor. I look at everything but him.

“Rowan,” he says finally. I meet his eyes. The collar of his shirt is open, his pale skin shadowed by his face.

“What about him?” I ask.

“Stay away from him. Far away.”

I sputter a laugh. And the anger that rises suddenly surprises me. “Is that why you came here? To tell me what to do?”

His eyes widen. “No! That isn't what I meant.” He sighs. “Just be careful. Rowan is treading dangerous land, and he'll pull you in too.”

I want to ask him what he means. I want to ask him why the Queen was so desperate to know when I had met Rowan, why her demeanor changed when it almost never does. Julian knows something.

I want to ask him about the words he shared with Rowan in the room behind the double doors. But something keeps me quiet.

“Tomorrow night, after the ceremony, will you come with me?” He asks nervously. Is this what the Queen meant by his unusual request?

“With you?” I ask.

“Yes. There's,” he pauses, his neck flushes and his eyes brighten. I've never seen Julian so unsure of himself. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“I would come with you anywhere,” I say softly.

His lips twist into that smile I forever want to see and relief passes over his face.

“I needed to know if you’d come. If all that trouble will be worth it.”

Something crashes through my chest. I know that feeling. And when I speak again, I can only whisper.

“It will be worth it.”

The smile that spreads across his face is bright enough to outshine the moon. I laugh softly and shake my head.

“You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?” he says after a moment. “When you fainted earlier. You figured something out.”

Part of me is awed that he noticed. But when it comes to me, he notices a lot of things.

“I think… my blood goes both ways.” I struggle for words. I know what to say, but I'm afraid of his reaction. Afraid of what he will think.

“You mean it'll allow humans to breathe the Jutaire air,” he says. He doesn't ask. He knows.

Which reminds me: I need to tell him about Dena, stuck in the lab.

“I think so,” I say. “I didn't know how to test it, but—”

“Why do you think Dena’s here?” He asks, an edge to his voice. “They're one step ahead, Lissa.”

He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck.

“You said my name,” I say. He stills and drops his hand by his side.

“I-I apologize. I—”

“No, no,” I say, realizing how awkward this is and I wonder why I even blurted that out in the first place. “I want you to call me Lissa. Just Lissa.”

He swallows and runs his tongue over his lips. And grins. I've never seen him grin before, but it makes me want to melt.

“I'll remember that.”

I trail to the window, his footsteps shadowing mine. Outside, a blanket of blue spreads for as far as I can see.

Far below, I can see Jute moving about. A large reservoir sits behind the palace, filled with what looks to be about fifteen feet deep of rainwater. The Jute are efficient.

“They've already taken Dena,” I say, turning to him.

Confusion flickers across his face. “Dena? But I-I saw her barely—”

“They've tested my blood on her already. It works.”

“Then we don't have much time,” he says, his eyes hardening.

“Dena said there's a chance of her being able to do something inside the lab.”

“I have to go,” he says suddenly, stepping toward the door.

“Wait,” I call. He looks back at me, eyes questioning. I’m afraid to lose him. I’m selfish, I realize. “I’m sorry about Chancellor Kole.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says.

“What could happen? If we gave my blood to”—I stop before I can say our people. Because I can’t.

I belong nowhere. I'm not human, I’m not Jute. I'm stuck in between. A half-breed like Julian. And at the same time, I’m not like him.

I really am alone if I look at it that way. I shake away the thought. “The humans.”

He smiles. “War.”

When I think of war, I see blood. Pain and suffering. Nothing good comes from war.

But there is good. There will be an outcome. One side will find peace, solace. While the other will suffer a bitter loss.

There are two sides to the coin of war.

I fall asleep with Slate’s voice in my head.
I've been loving you for seventeen years as my dead child. Why stop when you're alive?

And I hope he’s okay. That he isn’t wallowing in grief.

There’s no way to tell, but I’m sure I’ve been asleep long enough for the night to have shifted into day. It’s odd, going a full day without watching the stars twinkle and beam down at me. I even miss the redness of the ground beneath my feet and the dust that swirls in the distance.

I slide out of bed as a soft knock sounds at the door. I bang my knee against the bed frame and yelp under my breath before limping to the door, expecting to see Julian.

But it’s a girl about a year older than me, with fiery auburn hair and soft features. Her skin is the color of the rare fresh milk we used to get from the Jute.

“Can I come in?” Her voice is airy. She looks at me with fierce green eyes and strolls in as if she owns the room. The room’s dark beauty seems to lighten in her wake. She pauses by the bed and turns back to me.

“Are you going to stand there?” She asks bluntly. But the way she asks it comes off as innocent curiosity. I close the door.

“I apologize,” she says with a bow. The ends of her long hair brush against the carpet. “I am Mia Leen, your maid. I am humbled, Princess, to have been granted the honor to attend to you.” I wonder if she was made to memorize her short speech and for a moment, all I can do is stare.

“Lissa,” I finally say.

“Pardon?” She leans closer.

“Call me Lissa.”

“As you wish, Princess—I mean, Lissa,” she says, bowing her head.

“And please don’t bow,” I add. 

“We've never had a princess,” she says as if she didn’t hear me. I imagine the green of her eyes to be like the land of Earth—lush, magnificent, never-ending.

“Well, I've never been a princess,” I say dryly.

She laughs, the sound chiming in the air. She’s carefree, like Dena, but at the same time, completely different.

“You're upset.” She tilts her head to the side and fixes me with a stare that reminds me of the little birds I’ve read about.

I study her soft features. She’s a stranger, a sweet stranger, but a stranger still. “I'm nervous, is all.”

She nods, and I wonder if she sees through me the way Julian does.

“Are you Jute?” The moment the question escapes my lips, I regret it. It didn’t sound as rude in my head.

But Mia is unfazed. She tilts her head again. “It is quite obvious. I don't wear a mask like humans do.”

“Right. Sorry,” I say.

“No need to be.” She smiles and I smile back.

And after a moment: “You're not like her.”

“Like who?” I ask, though I know full well. But I need to know what she thinks of my mother. I need to know if Mia is more human than Jute inside her heart.

Which brings another thought: what difference is there, between humans and Jute?

“Your mother, Her Majesty the Queen.”

“How so?” I ask, playing with the edge of my dress sleeves.

“In more ways than one.” She stares at me until I meet her eyes.

It’s too early to call her an ally, but she isn’t a foe.

“Now then,” she says, gliding to the bed. She drops a group of bags onto the sheets and exhales. I feel sheepish for not noticing her load.