UNBREATHABLE (20 page)

Queen Rhea stands and walks to a dark-skinned man behind us, who holds a gold pillow in his hands. An alabaster tiara sits serenely on the cushion. It’s small compared to the Queen’s crown, made of metal twisting around a moonstone in the shape of a ten-pointed star that glints in its center. She picks it up with graceful fingers and a hushed quiet falls over the Jute swarming below us.

I feel nothing as she comes forward with an insensitive smile on her beautiful face. I notice the same star on her crown. What does it mean? It was on the Chamber, in the Tower, on the platform—what significance does it hold for my mother to carry it on her head?

And there’s a matching one in gold on the emerald jewel around my neck. Why?

I feel nothing as the crown's weight descends on my head. But the crowd gasps and stares as if I have sprouted wings.

“People of White Plains, your Princess,” Queen Rhea calls, settling into her throne. “Let the festivities begin.”

I talk to so many people I don't know whose face is whose. Everything is a blur of voices and movement.

After what feels like years, I stumble down the steps, drunk from all the attention. Hands grasp my shoulders before I fall. I see the bottom of his coat and I lean into Rowan as he helps me stand, too exhausted to care about anything but a familiar face.

But the touch is too soft. Caring. Gentle. I look into his eyes. His wounds are gone. He looks different in the dark knee-length coat, more tamed.

His eyes darken. They miss nothing, not the jewel around my neck or the pearls in my ears, not even the shimmering of my neck. My heart races so fast, I’m afraid it will jump free from my ribcage.

“Hello,” Julian says. “You look… amazing.”

I blush and stand, slipping away from his hands burning into my bare skin. I struggle to say something, anything, to change the subject before I explode in a burst of red. “Are we going?”

“Oh, yes,” he says, his lips quirking up in amusement. “In fact, we can leave now.”

He cranes his neck and searches over the sea of heads around us. He drops his voice and flashes me a grin that sends my pulse racing. “Before Rowan gets here.”

He says we must see the Queen first, and we hurry back up to her throne. This time, I don’t feel countless eyes watching me, because everyone is enjoying the festivities. Queen Rhea raises a single eyebrow to acknowledge our presence and Julian bows.

“May we leave, your Majesty?” He asks. His voice is flat.

She ignores him, fixing me with her moonlight gaze instead. “I trust the half-breed. You may go.” She smiles, her lips a crescent of blood.

“But be careful. Keep that in mind before you do anything dangerous, darling. I’ve already lost you once.”

When I leaped from the carriage or when I was declared a dead baby?

“Thank you,” I say instead and hope my gratitude is clear without sounding desperate. And I have the sudden urge to add something at the end.

“Mother.”

My breath hitches when her eyes widen, and for the second time tonight, her features are stricken, her face frozen. The word affects her as much as it affects me.

“Let's go,” Julian murmurs beside me, sensing the sudden tension. I let him lead me away, but I glance back. The Queen whispers something to the dark-skinned man beside her, but her face is still pale, her eyes distant.

We're almost by the door when hands fall around my waist. I gasp and whirl around.

“Princess,” Rowan says. He bows and quickly shakes away the hair that falls over his eyes. It’s longer than Julian’s, curling at the nape of his neck, making him look older. His coat is gone. His eyes flick to Julian and he inclines his head. “Thank you for keeping an eye out for the Princess while I was away.”

When I think Julian will stay quiet and leave, he snorts. A laugh threatens to burst from my lips. But I press my lips together and take in Rowan's surprise.

“I wasn't doing anything for you. We were leaving.” He reaches for my hand. I let his fingers twine with mine and suddenly wish this were different. That Julian was slipping his fingers between mine because he wanted to, not because he was saving me from his brother.

I remember that day so long ago in the Chamber, when I was afraid to be touched. Now I want it more than anything.

“I don't think the Queen wants her precious daughter running off with a servant. In fact, I wonder what she'll say about this rendezvous.” Rowan steps back. Julian's face transforms into one of mock horror. Again, I have to stifle a laugh. My arms tremble from the effort and he gives my fingers a tight squeeze.

Rowan pushes through the crowd, making his way to the Queen. Julian laughs and my pulse quickens as he pulls me in the opposite direction, toward the palace doors. The guards on either side move to stop him and he drops my hand, the smile fading from his face.

“Let them through,” a third guard calls. Ilen. He bows his head slightly and when our eyes meet, he winks. My heart feels light.

The doors open, stealing my full attention. I hear them groan from the effort, and a little part of me feels sorry for them, forever swinging their massive weight back and forth.

Only when the night greets me do I remember: I was supposed to meet Dena.

The night is cool and the stars are bright. They shine down on me as if they are happy to see me. As if they missed me as much as I missed them.

I want to spread my arms beneath the cloudless night, because I’m finally free. But I force myself to walk calmly beside Julian.

I glance at him, the words rushing to my lips.
Dena is in danger.
But when I see his face, the words die away. He seems calm, happy even. There’s a brightness to his face I haven’t seen before and I don’t want Dena to ruin this moment.

I am selfish. My bare skin glows in the moonlight. I’ve never bared so much skin.

“I’ve always wanted this. A moment where nothing else matters,” Julian says, looking at me. My skin burns. I love the stillness of his voice.

The wind blows, running its fingers through his hair and tossing it over his eyes as he watches me intently. It whistles through the loops of the crown atop my head. Its soft fingers tug and pull, trying to yank it away, trying to tell me I don't belong in a palace. I want to tell the wind I don't belong on Jutaire, either.

“We'll have to walk there. I know how much you hate the mutants,” he says, his tone apologetic.

Until now, I never thought to ask him where 
there 
is. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere,” he says with a quick clench to his jaw. “You'll like it.”

How can I like something that pains him?

We walk in companionable silence. The white houses and shops are silent, the Jute either asleep or in the palace. Julian asks me questions, at times, and I answer, but mostly we are quiet. I learn that his father owns a plantation in the outskirts of White Plains. I learn that he and Rowan are only months apart. Rowan's mother is Jute, while Julian's was human.

I absently rub my fingers across the stone around my neck. Julian catches the movement.

“The Queen didn't like to see this,” I say.

“There's a rumor of an emerald stone her sister once owned. That could be why.”

“What happened to her?” I ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly. But his eyes rove up and down the houses and buildings around us. “Rumors, I don't know. They say she was murdered.”

“By whom?” I stop walking.

“It doesn't matter.”

I don't move. “Who did it? What do the rumors say?”

He turns to me and struggles for words. “For once, Lissa,
once
, can you ignore everything else and just… be? Pretend nothing is wrong for one night?”

He doesn't wait for my answer. I blink. I upset him.

“I'm sorry,” I say, catching up to him.

He nods and bites his lip, but he doesn't look at me. “Queen Rhea.”

“What?”

“They say it was the Queen.”

My heart skips a beat. My mother murdered her own blood, her own
sister
.

I'm about to ask if she had any children.

A daughter. Mia.

But he speaks first. “Don't go looking for more trouble. Please, Lissa. We're already counting down to the day.”

The day of my death.

“What will happen? When they take my blood.”

“They'll suck you dry. Every bit, because they need some for everyone. Even if your blood multiplies quickly. Lissa—”

“I know, I know. Tonight isn't for the future.” Because I have no future.

But I have hope. It’s what moves me forward, step after step, breath after breath. Because there could be a future – despite what I know.

His lips curve into a small smile, as if he knows what goes through my mind. “We're almost there.”

Eventually, the buildings and signs of civilization thin and towering, frightening boulders are all that dot the vast emptiness. The ground beneath me rises as we climb a hill.

Julian stops a few feet ahead and turns back with a grin. “This is it.”

I look at the boulders around us. “This?” I ask in amusement.

“No. Come on.”

His fingers slip between mine. One by one they close around each of my own and I forget to breathe. Every millimeter of my skin that touches his burns like the electricity from a soldier's barrel.

He gently pulls me forward and all of Jute territory unfolds before me.

I am on top of it all, watching down at the world that has claimed me to die on its lands.

The palace lights shine and twinkle like stars. The white walls radiate in the moonlight. The lights of the houses and shops glow like eyes.

“Not that. This.” His hushed voice washes over my ear. I turn with a gasp.

The Ruins.

The remains of the ship the first humans came on. The ship that had crashed. The scraps of metal that started this all.

Julian watches me expectantly.

“I thought they were encrusted in sand.” I say finally, recalling Gage's words.

Julian's hand shoots to his hair. “I-uh. They used to be.”

I turn to face him. “You cleaned them all?”

“Is it so impossible to believe?” He asks and I look away. Because his question asks much more.

The ship was silver, though time has worn it down to a matte gray. Streaks of red and blue shoot down several areas, a placid adornment. It really
is
in ruins. Part of a wing juts out of the ground to my right, another one far to my left. Domed pieces from the body dot the area.

Nothing from the interior remains, only the outside pieces entombed forever in the ground.

The wind is quiet and the world is hushed. As if the surrounding area will always mourn the people and the ship we lost.

In a way, the sight
is
breathtaking. Julian was right—I do like it.

“It's beautiful,” I say, my voice echoes strangely. He smiles.

“Sometimes,” he says softly, his fingers trailing along the wing, “you only see the beauty of something once it’s broken.”

His face is somber, sad almost. He means more than the ship.

“You're sad,” I say, because I don't want him to be. “We can leave.”

“No!” He comes closer and holds out his hand. I hesitate before reaching out, and his fingers slip between mine. He leads me deeper into the Ruins, toward a curving piece of the ship's body, rising like a small hill on the ground. We climb it, him steadying me as I go.

“My mother used to bring me here,” he says. He’s never spoken to me about his mother. He stretches his long legs and leans back on his hands. I wrap my arms around my legs, my dress flowing around me.

“What happened to her?” I ask.

“She had a fever,” he says. He looks out into the night and I wonder if his thoughts are plagued with happiness that will only reside in his memories.

“I didn't”—he stops and exhales—“I didn't want to give her up. To the Jute.”

“Chancellor Kole let us bury her, not far from here.” He draws a path down the metal with his finger. “Rowan knows.”

He looks up at me. “It’s why he holds so much leverage over me.”

“But why?” I ask. I don't want to offend him, but her body is already gone.

“The body’s gone,” he says, as if he can read my mind, “but we defied orders. If word gets to the Queen there would be trouble.”

I think of that girl, with barely enough cloth to cover her sun-kissed shoulders, staring as the carriage rolled away. What would it be like to die because of something that happened years before you were even born?

Julian's hand slides over mine.

“It won't happen,” he says softly. But he can't know that.

“They’re so heartless. I can’t understand why they want what isn't theirs.”

“We can't blame them for wanting. Without wants, nothing would ever happen. It's the methods we use to get them that are the problem.”

“I guess,” I say, making a face. To me, there’s nothing to justify what they will do.

He laughs, a beautiful sound that shatters the dark world around us, and jumps down, holding out his hand. “And you? What do you want?”

I drop down beside him and think, closing my eyes. In the darkness of my closed eyelids and the hushed silence of the night, I see one object.