UNBREATHABLE (22 page)

He’s wearing a mask.

The clear Louen fogs with his labored breathing. He isn't Jute.

“You're human,” I say, surprised.

He smiles again, the edges of his eyes crinkling. He neither accepts nor denies my statement. A true politician, Gage would say.

“Right this way,” he says. I don't know where he’ll take me, but I might finally get answers.

“What was your name?” I ask, following him through another door.

“I never gave you my name. But I can. It’s Eli.” He walks with sure steps and opens the door to another room.

“You may have a seat wherever you’d like. Rowan had business in the palace, but he’ll be here shortly,” he says. I nod and he leaves without another word.

I stay still for a moment, holding my breath to see if anyone else is here.

I wish I could sense Jute like Julian can. Maybe it’s something that can only come from a father. At the thought, Slate's gray eyes flood my mind, swimming with love. I don't know how I spent seventeen years believing Gage was my father when he lacked Slate’s love.

The room is rectangular, with a fireplace on the wall to my left. In front of it is a wide chair. The crackling fire casts a warm, inviting glow across its fabric surface. I pause.

The fire is orange, but the air isn't oxygen. I'm too tired and numb to even try to understand.

A map sits on the wall above the fireplace. Along the opposite wall is a table, stretching from one end to the other, covered in swords, shining ornaments and other things I can't make out.

The door opens and closes behind me. I turn to see Rowan, stunning as always. A pair of black pants hangs low around his waist. He has traded his usual darkness for a silky white shirt, the first few buttons opened to reveal the pale bronze skin of his neck.

He smirks when my eyes linger on his bare skin a moment too long and heat rushes to the back of my neck. I look into his eyes and see Julian. No. This isn't Julian. I focus on the differences, however small.

His hair is slightly longer than Julian's. The scruff on his jaw is more pronounced, making him look older. His stance is lazy when I know he is strong and quick, whereas Julian stands attentive and calm. Two opposites at once, always.

“You're fast.” He speaks first, glancing meaningfully at my new dress. When I don't say anything, he exhales and crosses the room to the wide chair. The flames sway in the wake of his movement. He sinks into the seat.

“What are you doing, Rowan?” I blurt out, shaking my head in confusion.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Can you just not worry for once?”

I freeze. Was he there when Julian asked me the same question? No. I remember the way Julian’s eyes roved the streets.

Their minds are more similar than I thought.

“What should I do then?” I ask. I need him to speak. To tell me. To trust me.

“Come, sit, talk.” He shrugs like it doesn't matter.

But by the way he holds himself—his carelessness tinged with uncertainty—I can tell it does matter. I matter.

I cross the room and sit on the carpet by his feet. I lean against the chair and stare into the flames until they burn inside me. I'm more comfortable here, even if we are only separated by the small elevation.

“Did you know there's a ship?” He asks. I hold my breath when he reaches for me. Through the corner of my eye I see his hesitation. It’s in these small acts of uncertainty that I find humanity in him, a reason that begs to give him a chance. His fingers softly brush the hair away from my neck as if I may demolish beneath his touch.

“No,” I lie. My voice is a bare whisper, because I don't want to break his thoughts. Because I can't muster anything louder.

“It’s magnificent,” he says in awe.

“You've seen it.”

“Yes.” He shifts in the chair. I glance back at him, lock eyes. I break away first.

In the fire, I see Julian. I see him gritting his teeth against the pain. I see his eyes flooding with agony.

And you? What do you want?

Earth
, I said stupidly. While he wanted me.

“What’s this?” Rowan's voice. Julian's voice. What is the difference? His finger trails along my cheek, wiping away a rogue tear.

“Will I see it?” I ask instead. Will Julian live? I desperately blink away my tears.

“And board it.” He tilts his head.

“I don't understand,” I say. Because I’m going to die, not get on that ship.

He chooses this moment to stand. He holds his hand out to me and I consider ignoring it. But I don't. I need to get out of here. I need to save Julian. I place my hand in his, ignoring the trills that shoot through me.

He pulls me up. Against him.

In a heartbeat, my body is pressed against his. His grip tightens before I can pull away in surprise. I crane my neck up to meet his eyes and my breathing quickens. His eyes darken when they fall to my neck and climb to my lips. And without meaning to, I run my tongue over them. His eyes flash. My insides pulse.

He brings his face close to mine. Julian. Rowan. Julian. Rowan. I can't stop the dangerous need spreading through me. It takes over me. This desire, as overwhelming as Jutaire’s air.

Rowan missed nothing.

When he’s satisfied with what he sees, he leans close. I see the flecks of black sprinkling his blue eyes. His hair brushes against my skin.

And he breathes against my lips. “I'll see you soon.”

I'm only alone in my room for a moment before a soft knock sounds at the door and Eli walks in.

“My apologies, miss.” He bows. “Rowan asked to bring you to the dining room. You must eat.”

I'm still trembling. And angry. Angry at Rowan for doing this to me. But isn’t it my fault, too? I squeeze my hands together and press them into my lap. Eli narrows his eyes, and only then do I see that they are blue.

“Are you alright, miss?” He takes a step closer.

“I'm fine,” I say quickly. The words come out harsh, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn't react.

He nods like he understands. “You mustn’t be late.”

I swallow the bitter laugh that bubbles to my throat. I want to ask him what will happen if I'm late. Because there’s nothing worse that can happen to me. Everything has been taken from me. Rowan has nothing to hold over me as he did over Julian.

And that's when it hits me. Rowan has no leverage. There’s nothing he can use to blackmail me.

He needs my trust.

I slip off the bed and follow Eli down the hall.

If Rowan wants my trust before he'll share his plans, I will give it to him. Because mad or not, Rowan is smart.

And two can play at that game.

The dining room is empty, save for Rowan sitting on one end. Eli pulls out the chair on the other and I sit down.

It’s ridiculous. Such a long hall, its grandeur evident in the intricate moldings and the glossy finish of the carved wooden table.

And empty.

I feel sorry for Rowan. But then, up until recently, I was alone too.

“Eat. You'll need the energy,” Rowan says from his end. I don't ask what I need the energy for. In fact, I don't ask anything, or even acknowledge him. I eat, because why not?

Unlike the Chancellors and the rest of the human race, the Jute don’t eat the same bland porridge mixed with every vegetable from the crophouses. They have fresh leaves and colorful vegetables, something the porridge very rarely hints at.

When my plate is clean, a flawless girl with dark hair and equally dark skin comes forward. She holds a swab in one hand, a finger prick and vial in the other.

This is what the energy is for, the sparkling needle says.

I scramble out of the chair and face Rowan. “What are you doing, Rowan?” I hiss.

“We'll need a sample. And I expect you to give it.” He says simply, lazily. “Hold out your arm, Lissa.”

“No,” I press my hand against my chest. Rowan's eyes follow my movement.

“If you abide, I’ll make sure you go to Earth.”

“Why? Why do
you
need my blood?” I ask. But I hear his words. My mother would never take me to Earth. He sets his jaw, his eyes livid. But I don’t care. His anger means nothing to me. He can’t hurt me.

“Let’s just say it’s time for your mother’s rein to end,” he says, standing.

End. My mother’s rein. The Queen of the Jute.

My breath hitches as everything clicks into place. Rowan's madness, Julian's fear, my mother's desperation when I said Rowan and I had met. The room swerves and spins. I reach out to steady myself on the table and sink into the chair beside him. He watches me, his eyes startling.

I try to look away, but I can’t. Because those eyes will always have that effect on me. Julian and Rowan will always be two sides to the same stone, mirrors of one another.

Is he like Julian? Does he know what goes through my mind when my voice is silent?

I feel the prick, the pull. I feel my blood seeping into a vial I don’t want to see. I don't look. I don’t even move until the girl's footsteps recede into another hall.

Sorrow wells up inside me and crashes through me. Because with every breath, I get closer and closer to being sucked dry.

I went from being alone, knowing only one other soul, to something two groups needed—the Jute and the humans. Now there are three groups and the humans don’t even know they need me.

Eli leads me back to my room. By the time he opens the door, the small wound has healed. He lingers a moment longer, and I take my chance to question him.

“Do you know what Rowan is going to do?” I ask. I take his hand and lead him to the chair beside my bed. His skin is papery thin and I wonder how much life he has left in him.

“I know of your blood. I know of the ship. And I know Rowan is out of his wits,” he says seriously. “I don’t really know the details.”

“Do you know where we are?” I ask, biting my lip. Eli should know
something
.

“Not too far from the palace, if that’s what you’re asking. But we're past Queen Rhea's radius,” he says, rubbing his chin. So that's why she didn't come after me.

“Do you ever leave?”

“Rarely. But there are a few people who come by, messengers and the like. If you want to get word to someone in the palace, I can do that.” I wonder if the possibility of helping me makes him happy or wary.

“There’s a girl, Mia Leen—”

His eyes widen and his face freezes. His hands clamp down on the chair, knuckles deathly white.

“Where did you hear that name?” His voice is hoarse.

“Mia?”

“Lower your voice,” he hisses. I drop to my knees in front of him.

“Why? What is it?” I ask.

“You don’t know?” He asks, furrowing his brow. I shake my head.

“Rumors, mostly.” But he believes whatever the rumors say. I can tell he hopes they’re true. He pauses, clearly deciding if he can trust me or not.

“Your mother had a sister elder to her. She was queen, by birth. When she died mysteriously, they say she was murdered by Rhea.”

I nod, encouragingly. He has to have more to add to Julian’s story. “Only few people know this, but it is said Queen Mina had a daughter. One she hid from her sister and the rest of the Jute world. She gave up her daughter to a merchant on the street. When he died, the girl went missing. The only piece of Queen Mina she had left was a necklace, a marked green and gold jewel that no one knows for sure exists.”

But it
does
exist. I reach for my neck, though I know the emerald isn’t there. It’s gone, along with the cream dress I wore.

“Mia is the girl’s name?” I ask. He raises his eyebrows when I say 
is
. 

“It was,” he says.

“Mia,” I pause, “is alive.”

His eyes harden. “You aren't much different from him, are you? I didn’t come here for your amusement. I wanted to offer whatever help I could.”

“No!” I grab his hand. He sits back down, his gaze untrusting, his face closed.

And I tell him.

“So she’s the true heir?” I ask. There’s a light shining in my chest, filling me with giddiness. Because Mia is good, inside, outside—she is thoroughly good. And the thought of her ruling the Jute sends my flicker of hope shining like a beacon. 

She is as human as a Jute can get—if only humans were as pure as the word implies.

Eli nods quickly. He’s as hopeful as I am. But we both know Mia being crowned as the rightful heir is slim—there’s no way Queen Rhea will allow it. And now, with Rowan a part of the mix, the complications have multiplied.

“Will you get word to her… that I’m here?” I ask. He rubs his small graying beard.

“I will try. I doubt she goes by Mia, it’s too dangerous,” he says. I wonder again why she decided to trust
me
with her name. “But I’ll try my best.”

A knock sounds at the door. I glance at him before crossing the room.

“Lissa,” Rowan murmurs. He steps into the room without an invitation. I step away from his closeness and he mimics me, stepping forward. I press myself against the wall and he comes closer still. I sneak a glance at Eli. Rowan notices.

“Leave, old man,” he growls. Eli goes to the door, not even bristling at Rowan’s tone. He stops and looks at me, his eyes worried. But he knows I am strong enough. He bows his head, not because I’m a princess, but because I’m a friend.