UNBREATHABLE (28 page)

“Julian,” I whisper. His shivering form blurs in my vision. I collapse on my knees beside him when he doesn’t move. I let loose a deep breath.

Slowly, slowly, he raises his head from between his knees. He looks at me, but his eyes are elsewhere, wavering. He untangles his arms from around his knees. His right eye is bruised and his skin shines with sweat. His face is a mess of cuts and bruises.

But it’s Julian. He’s alive. And it aches deep inside my heart. Tears swell to my eyes.

How did I ever think Rowan and Julian were alike?

And from the way he stares at me, even half-delirious, there’s no mistaking the love Julian has for me. The love I feel for him, deep inside, even if I don’t fully know it yet.

“Lissa?” He whispers. I press my lips together because I don't trust my voice. “I didn't-I didn't know if it was you. You’re in my blood, Lissa. I've been sensing you for days.” 

Only it hasn't been days, I don't say.

“I'm sorry,” I sputter.

Sorry for everything, I don't say. Sorry for existing, sorry for not coming sooner.

He shakes his head as if he can hear all my unsaid words and he’s denying them all. A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips and he reaches for my face with a trembling hand. Brighter light slips through the bars as the day grows.

“When my mother died,” he says softly, “all I ever wanted was to join her.”

I cup my hand over his and I pretend his hand doesn't burn the way it does.

“That night, in the Chamber, that was supposed to be my last. I wanted one night of danger before then.” He laughs softly and looks away. Splotches of color seep into his cheeks and my heart warms. “Then you came. You ruined everything, I said, remember?”

“But ever since that moment, I've wanted another chance. I wanted to live. I wanted you, even after I knew who you were. Even after I knew I couldn’t have you. And look now.” His eyes turn back to mine, as intense as they were that first night. In the silence, I can almost hear the flames crackling outside.

But I pretend nothing is wrong in the world. No one is hurt. No one is dying. The palace isn't on fire. I pretend I can't smell the smoke creeping through the bars.

“I made this for you,” he says. He pulls a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. I open it, holding his gaze, breaking away only to drop my eyes to the paper.

To a drawing. To me. Exactly how I looked the night of the ceremony.

The sketch is lifelike. He captured everything, from the folds of the cream dress to the jewel around my neck and the curls in my hair. My hands hold up my dress, my lips are parted, my eyes shine—I look alive.

“How did you draw this?” My voice is deathly still. There’s a wooden stake, skinnier than a pencil, by his side, stained deep red.

He narrows his eyes. “Beet juice. Beets were all Ilen could bring me.”

I sigh in relief and he laughs softly.

“What did you think it was?”

“I…never mind,” I say, shaking my head. It looks so much like blood.

I fold up the drawing and tuck it into my tunic. I meet his eyes. Intense, strong, so much like the Julian I know. He shivers, pressing himself hopelessly against the stone wall behind him. The way he lies there, helpless and uncaring, shatters something inside me.

“Kiss me, Lissa.” His voice is no more than a whisper. My heart beats. Once. Twice. Only two heartbeats to be stunned by his words.

And my lips are on his. I lose my grip and fall into his lap. He cups my cheeks in his burning palms and lowers his face to mine, his lips curved in a small smile. His lips are scorching. And soft, so soft. He is always soft, despite his strength and fearlessness. His heart will always be gentle. 

His arm moves to my back, pulling me closer. I can feel his weakness in his touch, in his burning, trembling body. I reach for his hair, wrap my fingers around the silk and pull him closer, closer.

He tastes like sweat and pain and tears. Tears I should have spilled for him, but he spilled for himself. Tears that should have choked my throat, but I was intoxicated with Rowan.

Last night rushes back. Guilt heats my cheeks. How could I do such a thing?

I pull back and his feverous eyes search mine. He trails his trembling finger across my lips. His breath is as hot as his skin. “What is it?”

“Rowan,” I say. My eyes flicker to Julian’s lips and I swallow to keep myself from leaning forward again. I tremble beneath his touch. His left arm burns into my back, reminding me of how wounded he is.

“Did he… hurt you?” He asks softly.

“No,” I whisper. “But the palace is on fire.”

His brow furrows and his eyes narrow. “Already?”

“You knew,” I say suddenly, sitting up. “You've known all along what Rowan planned to do.”

“I've known for days,” he says. “I tried to tell the Queen.” He pauses. “But she didn't listen to me. I thought by taking you away from the palace, you would be safe.”

The metal bars rattle. It doesn’t matter now. The palace is already on fire. The Queen is dead. We’ll die here too, if we don’t move. “We have to go.” 

He shakes his head. I leap to my feet and he sits still, staring at his hands. “I can't.”

“What do you mean?” I crouch down. My heart beats faster.

“I can't, Lissa,” he says, defeated. He finally looks up at me. “I'll only slow you down. Go.” Like I slowed him down when he broke into the Chamber.

Debris showers down from the ceiling and I glance up as the dungeons rock once more. What has Rowan done?

I wrap my hands around his arm and tug. “No, Julian. I'm not leaving without you. Get up. Please.”

His eyes bore into mine when I say his name. For a moment, he is eerily still, and I’m afraid he’ll refuse again.

But he clenches his jaw and closes his fist. I see the pain in his eyes and in his quivering muscles as he slowly pushes himself to his feet. He steadies himself with one hand against the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales as the walls quake again.

“Hurry,” I say.

He opens his eyes and nods, reassuring himself. He slowly releases his hold from the wall and takes one step toward me, favoring his right. Lines crease his forehead. His coat slips off his shoulders. He stumbles. I grab him and steady him against me, the burning heat of his body searing into my side. Something is wrong.

“Julian,” I whisper. I help him out of the cell as a chunk of the ceiling collapses behind us. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t hear. My ear it’s-it’s- I don’t know what’s wrong.” His voice is filled with self-loathing and despair.

He raises one shaky finger and presses it beneath my eye, taking away a single bead of my pain for him. “Don't. Please.”

The walls shudder in another warning. We need to move faster.

He leans against me, and we make our way awkwardly through the corridor. He doesn't have to speak for me to know how disgusted he is of himself. I keep my eyes on the ground as we step over rubble and debris.

Every few moments, I raise my head to check our progress. Soon enough, I can see the stairwell at the other end, illuminated with light from above. The ground trembles beneath my feet and a shower of white rains down again. The pieces are small, but soon, they will grow.

“We won't make it,” Julian says. I glance at him in surprise because he sounds so much like himself.

“We will,” I say, focusing.

“There's something in there,” he says softly, carefully reaching for his ear. I gently push his hand away and brush the hair from his ear. He holds his breath. I clench my teeth. 

“What did they do?” I ask. He shudders in answer.

Dark, dried blood covers the entire lobe. At my touch, pieces crumble away. He flinches. 

“Let's go,” he says, not looking at me. “I'll do it while we move.”

We run now. I catch Julian before he stumbles, keeping close to his side as we go. A jagged piece of the ceiling sails down and we swerve as another piece drops down.

It slices into my shoulder and I cry out, clutching my arm as white-hot pain ricochets through me. 

Julian glances at me with concern, but doesn’t stop. “We're almost there.”

I grit my teeth against my throbbing arm. Blood coats my fingers. My blood that started this entire mess. That started a race for a planet long thought destroyed.

“Lissa.” Julian's voice is warning. I sway and grip his arm. Now I need him to keep me steady. “Stay focused.”

I usher him up the stairwell first and follow. His coat trails along the stairs. It's melancholy, in a way, watching his dark form rising into the light.

He stops at the top of the stairs and I nearly run into him. I glance up, squinting against the sudden light as smothering heat rolls down in waves. I carefully step beside him and look out.

The sun is inside the palace.

It shines where the Queen’s throne once was. Because where the Queen’s throne should be, the palace wall is gone. I can see the sun, the sky, the blue and red and a bright halo of light.

A choked sound escapes my lips. Fallen Jute lie on the bloody ground. Rowan did more than set fire to the palace. Rowan and his men massacred. 

As if on cue, Rowan steps from the opening beside the Queen’s platform, his hair ruffling in the wind.

“You left,” he says to me.

He’s too far for me to see his eyes. Julian’s hand closes around my arm as Rowan draws closer with my every breath. Something roots me to the ground, stops me from fleeing when I should.

“Lissa,” Julian breathes through clenched teeth. “Come on.”

I shake my head. He hisses. “Lissa.”

I face him. “You go. I have to do this alone.”

A mixture of confusion and pain flashes across his face. But he turns and leaves through the door far behind us.

But I can’t move. I close my eyes as Rowan’s steps grow louder and louder. When I open them, he’s near enough for me to see the blue of his eyes. A half-smile flickers across his face when I don’t move. His eyes are ablaze when he reaches for my hand. And when I don’t move away, his gaze softens.

“Why did you leave?” He asks. His voice is wrought in pain.

“You can’t do this,” I say. Eli said I could help him. I 
want 
to help him. “You said you don’t kill. You said you only follow orders. You lied.”

He glances at my bloody shoulder, then down at a body barely feet away from us. The white tile stretching out before us is smeared in red. Red of Jutaire. Red of the Jute. What's left of the white walls still hold the swirling gold, a remnant of what was once beautiful, however disastrous.

Blue and purple flames lick up from the ground.

How can Rowan ruin something as magnificent as this? Why? This is how Earth ended, they said. The rumors said man ruined Earth.

Earth gave mankind everything—food, water, shelter, a way of life. And they ruined it. Set fire, dropped bombs, went mad. 

Just like Rowan. 

“You know what it’s like to not have a mother. You said so yourself.” I know my words are reaching him, for he is silent, deathly still. “What will his children do when their father doesn’t come home?”

I point to a body of a young soldier. “And his mother? She’ll wallow in grief for the rest of her days when she realizes her son is never coming home.” Anger raises my voice. “Did you ever think, Rowan?”

“Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.” I flinch at his flat tone and he breathes a humorless laugh. “You of all people should know that, Lissa. You’re the one who sides with whoever is more beneficial to your treacherous lips.”

My face burns and he smirks.

“You’re wrong,” I say, but my voice lacks the force of my words. His smirk fades and pain flickers in his eyes.

He runs a hand through his hair. Like Julian. I bite my lip. “I thought you”—his voice drops—“loved me.”

I flinch at the desperate pain in his voice. When I look at him, I don't see a madman. I don't see a killer. I see a broken boy. A beautiful broken boy so much like his brother. 

“You don't. You never did. It was all an act, wasn't it?” He asks. Funny he should think my part was an act when I can only think the same of him.

“It wasn't,” I hear myself say. It was 
supposed 
to be an act. But it wasn't. And now, staring into his eyes, I don't know what to do.

“I'm not a fool, Lissa,” he breathes, changing into someone else. “I know why you kissed me. I know everything was for him.”

My blood runs hot. Every sliver of sympathy I felt for him fades into blinding fury. I wrench away from Rowan’s grip and he laughs, but it chokes at the end, and with it, so does my anger. “Run away, Lissa. Run away. But remember, you’ll come back to me. You’ll need me. You’ll beg for me. And I’ll make sure you never leave me again. Not even Julian can help you then.”

He turns and leaves. My face burns as I rush to the door. Julian’s there when I slip through.

I look down at my hands and slowly unclench my fists. His fingers brush the side of my arm. I press my lips tight to hold back the tears.

The palace trembles, but he is still, waiting for me to speak. But I’m afraid, I realize. Afraid of his rejection. A voice whispers in my mind, 
you only did it because of him
. But it lies. That was what I had planned. But my body was treacherous to my heart.

So I say nothing and he turns away.

“Your ear,” I say before I can stop myself. 

“It's a bit better,” he says tonelessly. Disappointedly.

He leads the way. Every few steps, he pauses, reaches for something and steadies himself. He never touches me. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is labored. My mind is swimming in worry and gnawing with guilt.

We sidestep bodies as we go. I try not to look down at their mouths parted in silent cries, their eyes staring into the open sky. Where are they now?

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice small.

“To my house,” he says, his eyes forever moving. His lips are turned down in a slight frown. He looks stronger. As if all this pain and destruction has given him strength. Smoke begins to rise from the flames and my eyes sting.

Darkness begins to settle as we move deeper into the palace. The sun shines where my mother's throne once was, but it is far from us, and we get farther still. Smoke hangs like a shadow over everything. We sidestep debris and dodge the occasional collapsing wall. My heart aches at the ruin. My shoulder throbs and blood continues to soak my sleeve.