UNBREATHABLE (29 page)

“We should tie that,” Julian says. He pulls a strip of cloth from his pocket and wraps it around my arm. He notices me watching him. He raises his eyes to mine and my pulse quickens when he takes a deep breath and stops, as if he means to say something. But he doesn’t.

We move on. I pull the mask over my face and he holds his arm across his nose when the smoke thickens. But Julian says the smoke of Jutaire isn't like the smoke of Earth. It doesn't kill as fast.

The door lies flat on the floor, barged down by escaping Jute. As I step over the fallen plank, I wonder if they made it out in time. I wonder where they are and if they are safe. Julian reaches for my face and brushes my hair away from my eyes. He knows what I think. He always knows. 

He takes hold of my hand without a word, envelops me in his soft strength. I wonder if he can forgive me, I wonder if he knows and if he doesn’t, if I can ever tell him.

We run, because there isn’t much time.

And we don't stop until we reach the place where I kissed Rowan, and never wanted him to stop. 

I can almost feel the strands of Rowan’s hair brushing against my forehead. But I don’t feel disgust anymore. I feel guilt. Guilt that I did such a thing.

Hate doesn’t well up when I picture Rowan’s face. And for that, I hate myself.

“Are you alright?” Julian asks, because I’m frozen, my eyes glued to the spot where I stood in the moonlight. His gaze flickers to the wall and back to me. “Lissa?”

“I’m fine,” I say breathlessly. I rush past him and push open the unlocked door. Shame burns my skin.

The house is as dark as it was last night. Even the light of the sun can’t penetrate this darkness. Julian doesn’t follow and I wonder if he needs a moment to himself. A moment of solitude, without me to interrupt.

The house is eerily empty, and a sudden thought raises my pulse. I walk past the empty living room and throw open the door to the room with the fireplace. It’s empty. My heart pounds faster. I run into the other corridor. I check the dining hall. Empty. I rush back and fling open the door to the room that I called mine for a day.

“Eli,” I breathe in relief. Why I was afraid I wouldn't see him, I don't know. He raises his head from against the chair beside the bed. When he sees my arm, he shoots to his feet.

“Mission successful?” He asks, checking my arm.

“The palace is in ruins. It’s collapsing.” An overwhelming sadness chokes my voice.

“There was nothing you could do about that,” he says. He tilts his head. “That isn't why you went there though. Why did you go there, Lissa?”

“I…” I trail off and his fingers pause around my arm. “I went there for Julian.”

“And were you successful?” He asks again.

“Yes.” Julian says behind me. “Did you ever doubt her?”

Eli laughs and I turn back to him, eyes wide. If I had heard his laugh before, I would have known right away that he’s Julian’s father.

Julian joins him, his laugh softer in comparison. He stops abruptly, his jaw clenched as he steadies himself against the doorframe, one hand pressed against his head.

“We don’t have time,” Julian says, his voice tinged in pain.

“We don’t,” Eli agrees. “Let me take a look at that. As soon as his work is done, Rowan will head for the ship.” He turns his eyes to mine. “But I suspect he’ll come back for you first.”

“I don't think so,” I say softly, looking away. Eli shakes his head.

“You're in his blood, Lissa.” I flinch and Julian inhales sharply. “He listens to you. You're making him see the world through a different lens. You're making him human.”

I shake my head. I want to tell him about all the deaths Rowan has caused.

“He needs you. To the extent that it’s bordering madness.” Eli sighs. Julian watches me intently.

My cheeks burn as my mind replays last night. I leave before my face betrays what words cannot. But even as I ease the door closed behind me, I can hear Julian’s quiet question. And for once, I wish he didn’t know. I wish he couldn’t read me the way he can. But he can.

And he always will.

I splash water on my burning face. My reflection stares back in the rippling water. I am as red as the land around me. I slip out the back door and climb the short wall surrounding Eli's land, easing myself on the six-foot stone ledge.

I pick at the clean fabric Eli wrapped around my arm. The aching pain has faded to a dull throb because of the Jute blood in me.

I raise myself to my feet, balancing myself on the foot-wide wall. Beyond Julian's house, and the clear Louen covered plantation Eli owns, beyond the many houses and buildings, smoke billows from what’s left of the palace. My eyes burn as if the flames surround me, not the remains of a magnificent building so far from here.

How can one feel so sorry for a heartless construction?

Somewhere out there, Rowan stands as I do, staring at his work. His masterpiece of destruction.

Soon, nothing will be left but ashes. Charred, darkened bits of a palace that once was. The bodies of the Jute that once lived powerful lives will deteriorate with it. Green eyes flash in my mind, reminding me of Mia. Is she still in that hidden room, nibbling away at her ration of bread? Why couldn’t she come with me? Is my mother still inside her chambers? Is she still asleep, her gown draped over her elegant figure?

She’s dead.

Soon, nothing will be left. Soon, Rowan will herd together his men and make way for the ship. Soon, he’ll land on Earth and take what is not his.

No. Soon he’ll come back for me.

I sit down on the ledge, dangling my legs over the edge. My head spins when I glance down.

Somewhere to my left lies human territory, and Dena. I wonder if she made it back safely, and if she has given my blood to every human alive. 

“You're hiding from me,” Julian teases as he climbs onto the ledge beside me with a small smile. His face is clean, the bruises less prominent. The wind picks up, blowing the strands that have come loose from my braid. It blows his hair too, but his piercing gaze never wavers.

“I'm not,” I say. “I was wrong.”

“Oh?” He raises one eyebrow.

“I thought I wanted Earth, but I was wrong. I still want Earth but not”—take a deep breath—“not without you by my side.”

He stares at me, deep in thought.

“No matter what the cost?” He asks quietly.

“No matter what the cost,” I echo.

Pain flickers across his eyes. “Then I'll make sure you get just that. For as long as I can.”

“Forever,” I say softly, confused. “I want you forever.”

He says nothing. I rub at an invisible ache beneath my heart.

“Did Rowan hurt you?” He asks.

I breathe a laugh. It sounds bitter. “No. He would never hurt me.” I sound as if I’m defending him.

“I see,” he says distantly. His eyes burn into my soul.

“I kissed him,” I whisper. The words tumble out. I don't say how much I wanted it. How much I needed it. How I never wanted it to end. But my eyes swell with tears.

He reaches for me. Pulls me against him, so my cheek rests against his chest. I hear the rumble of quiet laughter by his heart. And when he speaks, his voice is tinged in amusement. “You've been through so much, and this is what makes you cry?”

I sputter a laugh and his fingers trail down my hair. So gentle. Like the wind. Only beautiful. Real. It hurts.

I pull back and look at him, our faces inches apart. “You aren't upset.”

“Upset?” He tilts his head and touches his nose to mine. His whisper brushes my face. “Because my brother wants what I do? Rowan and I are alike in almost every way. It would be impossible.”

He laughs. “So no, I'm not upset.”

He said Rowan wants what he does. But didn't I want Rowan last night too?

“Your ear,” I say, raising my hand. I brush my fingers over the soft, cool skin and a blush explodes across my face. The touch seems more intimate than it’s supposed to.

“Is fine,” he finishes.

“You were feverous,” I say. He’s still warm, but not scorching.

“I'm fine. My dad is pretty good with medicine,” he says. He leans against my hand and closes his eyes. I notice everything in those few heartbeats. The way his clean shirt clings to his chest and arms. The stillness of his features. The defining ridge on his nose that Rowan doesn’t have. The angle of his jaw. The way the silky strands of his hair fall over his pale bronze skin.

“You're beautiful,” I whisper. The moment I say them, the words hit me in the face, slam into my heart. His eyes fly open and my heart skips a beat at the intensity of his gaze.

He exhales a shaky breath and trembles beneath my hand before he leans away. He runs his tongue across his lips and I hear a multitude of words in his silence.

“Then we're a perfect match, aren't we?” He asks finally. His low voice reminds me of Rowan and shivers race through me. He grins at my blush and I quickly pull out his sketch and hold it out to him.

“You keep it,” I say, because it means more to me if it’s with him. “Do you have more drawings?”

“I used to,” he says softly. “But I destroyed them all when my mom died. But in the dungeons, I-I
had
to draw you, to see you. Because I was so sure I wouldn’t see you again. And I drew another, a redrawing of one of my favorite old sketches afterwards, to get my mind off you.”

He pulls another slip of paper from his pocket and unfolds it with his long fingers. It's a careful sketch of an old clock, blurring into a rippling sea. “It’s supposed to stand for our life. Time we don't have, time we don’t know. It was originally meant to resemble the way we lost track of time when humans came to Jutaire. I didn’t have colors, or I would have made the sea blue.”

“It's beautiful,” I say.

“You think so? I looked through some Earth books to find a clock and the sea. They're all old, so it's hard to find anything clear enough.”

“All you had to do was look in your eyes,” I say softly.

“They're like the sea. Your hair is like the night sky. And your smile is like the moon.”

He’s silent a moment before he folds the sketch, a slow smile spreading across his face. Dena was right. “And you?”

“Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” He nods slowly. “Describe yourself.”

“I'm plain ol' me,” I say with a shrug.

“No, you're not,” he says softly. “Your hair is like chocolate, rich and silky. Your skin is like the moon, pale and bright. Your eyes are like a child's, innocent and wide. And your lips are always parted the slightest bit, always begging to be kissed.” He pulls me close and whispers the last words against my lips.

The back door flies open and I pull away, my skin ablaze. Smudges of color blossom across Julian's cheeks and an inexplicable happiness takes hold of my heart, pushing away everything else.

Eli steps into the small space between his house and the ledge. He watches his son with so much love in his eyes that it wrenches my heart. When he turns his gaze to me, I hear two simple words in his silence.
Thank you.

At once, I feel happiness and the urge to cry. This is the meaning of love. It fills you with longing, want, and so much happiness that it hurts. It hurts enough to cry through a smile.

I leap down and wipe away the tears burning at the edge of my eyes, hoping neither of them notices.

“It's time to go,” Eli says as Julian drops down beside me.

“You won't like this,” Julian says to me.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“You need to get to human territory before Rowan gets to you,” Eli says.

“We can't walk, obviously,” Julian says.

“And we don't have a carriage.” Eli leads us around the house.

“We’ll have to ride there,” Julian says apologetically.

I stop in my tracks and meet the creature’s piercing red eyes. I have to ride there on a mutant. Bile rises in my throat and I cringe as I force it back down.

“You could ride with me,” Julian says behind me. “But we need two, just in case.”

“I don't even know how to ride.”

“I saw how it affected you when the Queen called them horses. I know it wouldn't have mattered to you if you hadn't obsessed over horses. I know, Lissa, that you know how to ride,” he says a-matter-of-factly.

I hear the unsaid words. “Just like you. You've pored over the books just like I did.”

“Don't get me started on Julian and Earth,” Eli laughs. There’s a twinkle in his suddenly bright eyes. He has changed since Julian arrived. It's as though Julian and Rowan have two different fathers.

Julian flushes and disappears into the house to get water and supplies. Eli brings rug-like saddles and tosses it over the mutants' backs. I shiver, wishing I had the gloves Slate gave me. Eli notices. “It'll be fine. You don't even have to touch them. Here.”

He hands me a pair of brown gloves as dark as my hair. They’re supple and rich, made for slender hands like mine. Cross-stitches line the edges in a lighter shade of brown.

They’re unlike anything I’ve seen before. I glance up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

He nods and quickly looks away. But not before I see his Adam’s apple bob. He hurries back into the house before I can ask him what’s wrong. I slip on the gloves, and wiggle my fingers. The gloves are as soft as they look.