Chapter 31
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
When I jolted awake screaming in the early hours of dawn, it was to find myself alone.
Asher reappeared right before Aristedes brought us an opulent breakfast with glittering jams and breads formed into flowers.
They also pointed out a small pot of a substance they explained was crafted from the bile of insects who harvested pollen on the planet.
I couldn’t say I wanted to try it, and the only reason it was on my plate was because Asher had slathered the viscous amber liquid onto one roll and put it there.
Since I’d woken, I’d retreated deep within myself where I knew I would be safe, trying to stoke the flames of anger that fell away with every breath I took.
I wanted to hate Asher—I needed to hate him.
Each word he spoke was crafted to deceive the same way he crafted the smooth-talking persona I would see again today.
He stood at the door to the balcony Aristedes had opened, hands loose in the pockets of his dark trousers, the asymmetrical collar of his shirt unbuttoned.
For once his hair was free, swirling back from his face in the sea breeze, his attention fixed on the churning water below.
But every so often his silver eyes would slide to me and the plate in my lap I hunched over, blanket wrapped around my shoulders and hips to hide the frothy lingerie.
Most of the food was too sweet for my tastes, almost sickly so.
But then I wanted to laugh at the thought of having a palate.
I was growing soft if I was starting to become picky about fuel.
Whatever it was Asher had been doing in the early hours of the morning, he didn’t offer me any sort of explanation.
Nor did he eat the food laid out before us, not with the respirator firmly in place.
I didn’t want to ask though, mainly because whatever he was doing was probably dangerous.
Maybe he would double-cross me, or implicate me if things went sideways.
I wanted to be as unaware as possible about his plans.
I caved and picked up the soft glistening roll he’d prepared for me. My eyes widened as a slightly acrid sweetness washed over my tongue, balanced with the savory bite of the bread. I ate the rest quickly, surprised that out of everything I’d tried, the thing he’d chosen was the best.
“Why don’t you start getting ready?” Asher murmured, the first words he’d spoken since last night.
The plate scraped against the low table as I put it down. Without a word I stood, dropping the blanket onto the couch, and turned toward my case nestled against the wall, only to realize it was empty.
“Aristedes unpacked while we were at the party last night.” He moved to the large cabinet beside the windows, tugged open the doors and drew out the gown on a gilded hanger.
His gloved fingers brushed mine as he handed it to me, eyes fixed to my face.
But he said nothing as I turned toward the bathroom, even if his gaze burned into my flesh until I was sure I would have another brand.
And when I closed the door behind me, I wondered if I imagined the soft groan swallowed by the pillows and sheets he flopped face down on.
…
By the time I’d fought my way into the gown and its heavy stones I was sweating.
I’d had to sit on the edge of the bath to catch my breath—not that I could breathe when the fabric barely moved around my ribs.
I was pretty sure Lunastra thought my lungs were in my hips, since she seemed intent on exposing them with each outfit.
Unlike last night, there was only one slit in the skirt, but it ran almost to my armpit, the bodice held in place by glittering chains with tiny ozindanu stones like the ones on the shawl, dripping from my throat, over my collarbones, and down my upper arms. It wasn’t that they were heavy, but putting the entire ensemble on was complicated enough I needed two extra hands like Hudzon.
I didn’t call for help, but by the time I got it on, I wished I had.
Once I caught my breath, I took my time with the cosmetics, trying to remember everything Zoleka told me about how to apply them to my face—how if done properly, it was its own mask one could hide behind.
I left my hair free, not wanting another headache like last night, and sighed heavily when I had to slip my feet back into the sky-high shoes.
I tugged the door open and let out the most humiliating squeak.
Asher sat on the corner of the bed, twisting a piece of black metal between his hands.
It took me a moment to realize it was his respirator.
With his shoulders hiked almost to his ears and head tilted down, I couldn’t see his face, but I could practically taste the tension rolling off him, made worse when I took a step closer.
Finally, he wrenched himself upright and looked at me. “Am I as monstrous as you feared I would be?”
His voice hadn’t been changed by the respirator—it was just as deep and resonant as before.
I could only stare at the perfection of his features.
Twelve cycles ago he’d been just at the start of malehood, but now?
Now he carried the sharp lines of strength in his jaw, the fullness of his mouth, the perfect balance for the angle of his cheeks.
His nostrils flared with his inhale, silver gaze sliding down my body and up again, gloved hands fisting tight on his thighs.
“I didn’t fear it,” I whispered.
He stood until he was towering over me. “Why not?”
I had to tilt my head back to look at him. A healed scar bisected the right side of his mouth, another on his cheekbone, beneath the silver markings. “Because I saw your face that day in the forest and I’ve seen it in my dreams every night since.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Nightmares, you mean.”
He was right, but somehow he looked so fragile in this moment I couldn’t bring myself to agree.
My hand moved of its own accord, rising to press to his chest, fingertips brushing the skin exposed by the open collar of his shirt.
I wanted to tell him I thought he was beautiful, that even back then I had.
I wanted to say that my dreams had started as nightmares but recently had truly become dreams. Dreams where he pulled me from the ground and held me tight in his arms, where he whispered to me I was safe, though I’d forgotten the meaning of the word.
He sometimes spoke of home, but there was no home for me—not anymore.
His gloved hand covered mine, thumb brushing once across my knuckles.
The light in the room seemed to brighten, the air sweetened, and I wondered when I’d taken a step closer to him.
When had I crawled out from that safe space within my mind, when had I decided at least right now, in this moment, I couldn’t find it in myself to hate him?
“There’s something I need to tell you, j’ska mahsi,” he breathed, fingertips brushing the line of my jaw. “I—”
The doors burst open and Aristedes bounded in, clapping their hands together in excitement. We broke apart quickly, but the servant only beamed.
“My master is proud to announce that the gala has begun. Please follow me to transport.”
This was it. There was no going back now. And I couldn’t help but fear that at the end of all this I would once again be left as I had been the day I shoved myself into the ventilation unit on the Daskquah.
Resigned to my fate.