Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Tuscany
When I was very young—six or seven—I used to dunk my head under the surface in the bathtub.
I would stay very still, listening and feeling.
It always fascinated me that I could hear my heartbeat with profound clarity, that I could sense my stomach gurgling and my scalp humming as my hair swayed in the water.
I used to think that maybe I was a mermaid in another life…
The memory washes away.
The sound of my heartbeat seems to come from every direction, disorienting my senses as I am guided down steep concrete steps to a cold cellar, and I don’t even scream or fight. I’m not sure how to.
The space around me blurs, and I lose my footing, but two large scorching hands hold me upright, practically dragging my tiptoes along the ground. I am in shock.
Leaving myself.
It is too dangerous to be me.
That is until I see him.
My beautiful Kong, still bare-chested, is being dragged from a back room by two Common men. I recognise the glaze in his eyes. My heart squeezes to see such a monster of a man being guided like a hound by people half his girth and at least a foot shorter.
They can't compete with Kong. He's a lion among yelping hyenas, and witnessing this disparity angers me.
What have they done to him? Why isn’t he fighting them? I stare into his stunning brown eyes, seeing the world reflected, his consciousness missing, his nictitating membrane stuck halfway across his cornea.
I recall Louis saying they sedated him. Poisons and sedatives are Trade controlled and distributed, so… The Trade are involved.
He sways forward when he sees me, a bloody trail rushing from his nose and mouth, leaving a sickening path of crimson in his wake.
“Kong!”
He groans thickly. “Tuscany…”
“Kong!” I throw my body forward. The men release me, so I lurch into my dark knight’s chest, wrapping my arms around his middle. The two faceless men don’t stop, heaving us both into a cage, but we are together.
We are together.
Kong’s body hits the floor with me clinging to him, the back of his head meeting the unforgiving ground with a sickening thud. A choked sound comes from his throat.
I drop to my knees at his side, leaning over his massive chest, cupping his bloody cheeks in my bare hands. “Kong?”
His head lolls. “Tuscany…”
He reaches for me. A single sob leaves my lips when he places a warm, bloody hand on my cheek, his eyes coasting across my face lovingly.
“Yes.” I cover his hand with mine. “I’m here. I’m here.”
Behind me, the terrifying sound of the cage slamming shut, metal on metal as bolts slide into place.
Footfalls move away, up, up, ascending the steps, getting further and further from us.
The lights go out, leaving the dank room with creeping shadows and hollow corners.
Kong’s hand grows heavy beneath mine, eventually slipping away from my cheek and thwacking the floor. No.
I look down and see his chest rise and fall, rise and fall.
He is alive. He needs me. Allowing myself a tiny sliver of hope, I don’t disappear into my skinny reality or shrink or regress.
I clutch at grown-up thoughts, channel my mind and pretend I am a tough, strong, unbeatable queen with resilience and cunning.
I won’t go quietly. Part of me wants to scream and rattle the cage to get attention, but to what end?
No one knows we are here. No one… Ana. Ana knows we are here.
Will she tell? Get help? It will take two days for my brother to travel here if he leaves The Estate this very moment… Oh.
Will we last that long? What do they want? Who gave them the weapons in exchange for us? The questions canter through my mind to no avail.
A consuming sense of helplessness—one I haven’t felt in many years—presses on my chest, short bursts of breath leaving me as I sink into the unconscious man beside me.
Lying down, I grip his thick arm and bury my face into it, letting sobs racket from me. Tears stream from my eyes and pool in my ear, amplifying the sound of my heartbeat.
A small marsupial scurries across the top windowsill opposite the cage.
I don’t close my eyes, but the dim, silent room provokes an unwelcome sense of fatigue.
My head is pressed to Kong’s arm, eyes glazed over, focused on the way his powerful chest lifts with each big breath and lowers with a strong sigh.
It is soothing. Despite the fear and anger inside me, I find his breathing a calming force.
Breath.
Air.
Life.
It’s him and me.
I’m fighting the weight of my eyelids when a growl rumbles from within Kong’s chest, frightening me at first as it fills the quiet space of our cage.
I release his arm in case he jerks upright. His chest freezes mid-breath, muscles locking into place like a statue coming to life.
“Kong?”
Without making another sound, he sits and stares at the bars in front of us, narrowing his eyes in a calculated way. “Where is she?”
Holding my breath, I touch his arm, which is as solid as stone. “Kong?”
He glances down at my hand resting on his forearm, tracing its path until his dark eyes meet mine. A flicker of realisation crosses his face, and confusion swiftly turns into anger.
He cups my cheeks. “Are you hurt?” Before I can answer, he pulls me into his chest and rocks me, and I… I… I whimper. It’s all my fault. I was digging for a secret, chasing a story, desperate to be a hero instead of a victim, and I put us both in danger. I condemned us both.
Oh, he’s so warm as he holds my body—firm, while I fight the bite of defeat.
“Are. You. Hurt?”
I shake my head against him. “No.”
A rough exhale rushes down on me. “It’s going to be okay, little queen.” He leans back and holds my face cradled before him. “You will be fine. They will not hurt the Queen of The Cradle. Remember your promise to me, remember how I forced you.”
I stare at his cut lip. “They hit you. It’s my fault.” Blood has already dried in the gash. A ball of guilt lodges in my throat, my head shaking back and forth. “I lied to you.”
His hard stare captures me with intense focus. “Tell me everything.”
“I wanted to” —I crumble inside— “I wanted to be an authority, be a hero, save someone, myself. I wanted to find out what was happening with the orphans they take from Common Communities.”
“Orphans?”
“Yes. I heard a story about Rome taking orphans. Wasn’t Aster one? Does the Trade really do that?”
“You silly little thing,” he sighs, leaning forward and kissing my trembling lips. “Such a silly little thing.” He peppers kisses over the quivering, wet surface of my face. “Rome put a stop to that when Turin died. You should have just used your voice and asked, little queen.”
“Who?” I demand. “My brother?”
“Me!”
My breath hitches. “B-but… I didn’t know who I could trust, whose word was authentic and not a protective cloak, a rouse to keep me at peace.
Like I am a baby, and you all wish to baby-proof The Cradle for me, like you do to my room.
But you can’t! I wanted the brutal truth.
I want… I don’t know what I want. A reason to leave The Estate. ”
“Meaningful Purpose…” he murmurs, voice tight against that truth.
Oh, it’s true.
We are all looking for purpose, for a reason to exist. Just because The Trade claimed this ideology to control The Cradle, doesn’t change that. We are all seeking meaning and purpose in life. It is an innate part of humanity.
I sob once. “Yes. A meaningful purpose. And now… I only just grew up—” I hiccup another.
“Now they are going to kill me or take me back to The Estate which is so much worse. To be marble. Stone and grace and fake smiles. I can’t believe I thought we could be together.
I should know better. I never learn. They always win, Kong. They always win!”
Kong growls, dipping to keep my eyes on him as I lose focus to my sorrowful thoughts. “Who will win? Tuscany? Who is behind this?”
“The Trade…”
As the words fall from my lips, a deathly reality drops into the pit of my belly. “The Trade did this.” I cry, and he pulls me back to his bare chest. “It has to be. Louis said they were given weapons for us.”
I cry and cry and cry, allowing myself to fall apart because I believe he will pick up the pieces and protect them until I am ready to be whole again.
“They will not win this one, little queen.” His words rumble in my ear, their meaning purring directly into my nervous system.
“You will win. When you know how to recognise the monsters, they become easy to kill. You need to trust me this time. Do you understand?” He strokes my hair, so warm, so powerful, despite our situation.
“No matter what happens to me, you should know this.” His voice is thick.
“You should know that someone loves you with everything they are. That someone is irrevocably loyal to you. I do. I am. You’re not marble.
You’re not their statue. You’re a chocoholic.
A sunshiny, optimist who wants to save the world.
You’re beautiful and raw, and your heart belongs to mine.
I don’t recall the moment love took hold of my fucking soul for you, little queen.
There wasn’t a specific event or conversation.
No profound punch to the heart. It just did.
I love you. Loving you feels as intrinsic as breathing.
If something happens to me, I need you to remember this. ”
No, nothing can happen to you. I don’t exist without you.
Tears fill my eyes. I want to say so much to him.
How I’ve memorised the curve of his grin.
How my skin would recognise the texture of his palms. How I love him.
He knows that I do, but before any words come out, the lights flick back on, and smooth footfalls descend the steps. A fearful gasp splits my mouth.
Our eyes lock.
We can’t see the stairs, but when the person lands on the lower level, he stops and lets out an exasperated sigh that sends icy dread through my veins.
Kong releases me. While I scoot backward to the rear wall of the cage, he rises to his feet, stepping forward, blocking me from whoever will appear around the corner.
“What a pity.”
A smooth, arrogant voice sails through the bars just as the Trade Master steps into view. “Greetings, my queen.”