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“You’re right. I trusted you, and tomorrow I’ll have bruises in the
shape of your fingers on my arm.” I watch him flinch in shame, and the
wonder of sight hits me all over again. I can see. I can see, and my entire life
is going to change, and I can’t bear to spend another minute of this amazing
night with Bo. “But I can also see for the first time since I was a little girl. It
is more than I ever could have hoped for, and I thank you for that. Truly.”
Bo bows his head, his expression softening in the face of my
gratitude.
“But I will need to know how you learned about the poison,” I add.
“We’ll talk more tomorrow. I want to know everything, especially who you
suspect of drugging my tea.”
He pales, and his eyes widen before he looks away. I’m not sure what
that look means, but my gut tells me it isn’t good. I expect I’m not going to
like what Bo has to say. But then again, I expect I won’t like much of what
Bo has to say from now on.
“Leave us,” I say, meaning to use my position to my advantage until
the day Bo becomes my equal. “Forget about the healers. I’m feeling
better.” I am. Now that I’m seeing clearly, the vertigo is gone. My eyes still
ache, but it’s a wonderful ache, the pain of unused muscles doing
miraculous things.
Bo nods stiffly and flicks two fingers in Gem’s direction. “Come,
beast. I’ll return you to your cell.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I say, earning another scowl from Bo. “As
you said, it wouldn’t be wise for it to be widely known that Gem was out of
his cell today. I’ll have Needle take him in an hour or two, after the city is
quiet. Tell the guards at the base of the tower that they’re dismissed.”
“I can’t leave you unguarded with this—”
“You’ll do what I tell you to do until the day we are married. Or you
and your father will both find yourselves expelled from the military force.”
Bo’s jaw drops. “You wouldn’t. The people would hate you.”
“Let them hate me. Any emotion would be preferable to their pity. I
don’t intend to be worthy of anyone’s pity, not anymore,” I say, hoping Bo
can sense the iron at the core of my words. “I decided that before I was
able to see. Now that I can, I won’t let anyone keep me from ruling my city
the way I see fit.”
Bo’s eyes tighten around the edges, and his soft mouth firms into a
pucker that isn’t flattering. I sense he would like to tell me a thing or two,
but he knows better. Until he’s my husband, he will have to bite his tongue.
Afterward …
I won’t think of afterward. If I think of my wedding night with Bo or
all the days after, I will be sick all over again, despite the fact that I have
nothing in my stomach.
“I’ll send for you tomorrow,” I say.
With one last glare at Gem, and an only slightly less fierce glance my
way, Bo turns and strides through the door, across the music room, and
down the hall. The door to the stairs slams a moment later.
I sag against Needle, too weak to hold myself up now that the
immediate danger has passed.
“Let me help,” Gem says, his arm coming around my waist. I lean into
him, looping my arm around his shoulders, but keeping my gaze on the
stones at my feet. I’m not ready to look him in the eye, not yet.
Needle slides from under my other arm and steps back far enough
for me to look upon her dear face. She’s similar to the picture my mind
painted all the times I traced her features with my fingers—straight brown
hair tucked under her cap, a face as round as a saucer, and enormous eyes.
They’re beautiful, kind and intelligent and sad, but determined and
just … everything I imagined Needle’s eyes would be.
I’m scarcely aware the tears are coming before they’re slipping down
my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I say. “For everything.”
I know she understands that I mean more than everything she’s done
the past few days. I mean every day she kept me from being so desperately
alone. Every minute she spent teaching me to understand her special
language. Every little-girl tantrum she tolerated when I was too young to
understand what a blessing she was to my life, and she not nearly old
enough to bear the burden of raising me.
I know she understands because she starts crying, too. Smiling and
crying and touching my arm, my shoulder, my cheek—all the places she
would touch to communicate her concern when I was blind.
By the ancestors, I’m not blind. I can see her. I can see.
I lean down to hug her with the arm not wrapped around Gem’s
shoulders, and end up bumping my forehead into hers. Not hard enough to
hurt, but hard enough to make us both laugh. Me, a soft giggle; her, a silent
shake of her shoulders.
“Sorry. I’m not judging distance well,” I say, pushing my hair—which
has already escaped from Needle’s quick braid—from my face,
remembering how terrible I look. I glance down, shocked by just how
rumpled and dirt-streaked my overalls are. Bo must be desperate to be king
if he can still stomach the thought of marriage after seeing me tonight.
Even dressed up and freshly washed, I’m far from a Yuan beauty.
My heart lurches, and my knees go weak. Myself. I’ll be able to see
myself. Finally, I’ll know what made every soul in Yuan gasp when I stepped
out onto the dais after my coronation.
But not now. I’m not strong enough. I need food and water and …
I need … to sit down.
As if reading my mind, Needle motions Gem and me inside, shooing
us over to the low couch where I sit to practice my harp, while she rushes
into the other room. The couch is black and blue. Black silk, with
midnight-blue flowers and black thread binding it to a frame so polished, I
could see my reflection in it if I tried.
I don’t.
I look up at Gem, studying his profile as he settles me on the couch
and sits awkwardly beside me. The seat is so low that his knees nearly
touch his chest. He looks out of place, but no more out of place than I do.
My filthy overalls and ratted halo of hair are from a different world than the
silk we sit on.
I lift my hand and pull one of the less fuzzy tendrils in front of my
eyes.
“Red,” I mutter, hand shaking as I pull the curl straight, before letting
it pop back into a coil.
“Brown,” Gem says, his voice as careful as it always is under the
dome. He sounds like a citizen of Yuan again. It makes me sad. I miss the
way he rolled his words when we were out in the desert, letting them
simmer at the back of his throat before spitting them out. “Your hair is
brown.”
“But it has red in it,” I say, looking up at him. “I didn’t expect that.”
He doesn’t turn my way. He stares at the wall, at a portrait of a girl
with light olive skin, dark hair piled on her head, green eyes, and a wide
mouth that dominates her face. She’s mysterious-looking. There’s
something sad but secretive and mischievous in her expression. I wonder if
she’s one of the ancient goddesses from our old planet that my father told
stories about, the ones who were always shifting into animals so they could
fly down from the heavens to spy on humans. The girl’s throat is so long
and elegant, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her turn into a swan.
“She’s beautiful,” I say, with a happy sigh. “Like one of the old
goddesses.”
“Yes.” Gem doesn’t sound happy.
My smile thins. “Thank you … for coming to—”
“Someone’s been poisoning you?” Gem turns back to me with a
guarded expression that tells me nothing about what he’s thinking.