the crops are in, I’ll convince the council to send a portion of what is ours

into the desert.”

“The herbs may take months to work. My people can’t wait that

long.”

“All right,” I say, growing increasingly desperate the longer we linger.

“Then I will send food as soon as I can. I’ll convince my advisors it’s

necessary, a peace offering to keep the Desert People from returning to

free our captive.”

“And who will deliver this peace offering?”

“You will. I’ll talk with Junjie. I’ll persuade him that you can be

trusted to return when your errand is through.”

“Can I?”

“You’re here now,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “You

wouldn’t be if your father’s promise didn’t mean something to you. You’re

honorable. I’ll explain that to Junjie.”

Gem’s laugh is soft but parsnip-bitter all the same. “You think he’ll

listen?”

“I’ll make him listen.” Tightness flashes in my jaw. “I am changed.

Things have happened tonight that …” I swallow, moistening my lips with

my tongue, struggling to keep my voice even. “Things are different now,” I

whisper. “I won’t allow Junjie to rule in my place. When we return from the

desert, I will join the council meetings. I will speak to the people and hear

their complaints myself. I will not sit quietly by. I will fight for a place in this

city, and I will fight for those who have served me well. Help me, and I will

help your people.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “You sound almost like a queen.”

“I will behave like one. I swear it,” I say, ignoring the guilty prickle at

the back of my neck.

Gem could never guess how good the chances are that I won’t be

around to keep my promise. And I can’t tell him. I can’t. Especially with the

roses hovering behind us like carrion birds, watching, waiting for a sign that

it’s time to swoop down and feed.

“Please. I’ll beg if I—”

“Where is this secret door?” Gem asks, taking my hand.

My fingers startle open before tightening with a grateful squeeze. I

find myself comforted by his calloused palm in a way I never am by Bo’s

softness. Gem is going to help. He has given me hope, and I swear to myself

that I will give the same to his people. I will. I will live to honor my promise

to him, and hopefully many more.

“This way.” I start toward the orchard, still holding his hand. “There’s

a small gate, the King’s Gate, beyond the village green, past the cornfields,

near the granaries. It’s no more than a door, really,” I whisper as we hurry

through the trees. “I’ve never been through it, but I’m told it’s hidden

behind—”

Gem jerks my arm—hard and sudden—sending a flash of pain

through my shoulder. I stumble back, and his arms are suddenly around

me, his hand covering my mouth, muffling my rush of breath as our bodies

collide. I stiffen but don’t pull away. I stand perfectly still, ears pricking.

I press my lips together and nod, and Gem’s hand drops from my

mouth, but his arms remain around my waist, holding me close as the scuff,

scuff of boots sounds behind us.

Soldiers. On the path we left only moments ago.

My stomach turns itself inside out beneath Gem’s hand. What if

we’re spotted? I’m assuming it’s darker beneath the trees, but that’s only a

guess. My world is always dark, without variation. I can’t know whether it’s

better to hide in the shadows or run for the green and hope the soldiers

don’t notice our footsteps. I have to trust that Gem has made the right

decision, that standing frozen like statues will keep us safe.

But I do trust him. He doesn’t want to be caught. If the soldiers find

him with the queen pinned to his chest, they won’t hesitate. They’ll throw

their spears. Aim for Gem’s heart. Hope to kill him before he kills me.

They won’t take the time to see that Gem’s claws aren’t extended,

that his arms are gentle around me, or that my fingers linger over his. They

won’t notice that I lean into him, not away, or that my head turns to look

over my shoulder, bringing my cheek so near his mouth that his silent

breath warms my skin. They would never in a thousand years imagine that

my eyes slide closed and a shiver runs through me not because I fear for my

life but because Gem’s body is pressed against mine, because his hand on

my belly makes it ache, because the longing to taste him is stronger than it

was before.

If Gem and I were alone, and I were the kind who cared for nothing

but my own pleasure, I would turn in his arms. I would arch my back and tilt

my head and press my lips to his. I would kiss him the way Bo kissed me in

the royal garden. I would not fear his teeth. I would not think how strange

it is for tongues to touch. I would not think about cabbage. I would kiss him

until I was breathless.

“They’re gone,” Gem whispers.

My eyes fly open. I exhale sharply, wondering why the news that

we’re safe makes my heart beat even faster.

“Isra …” Gem’s hand curls, and the tips of his fingers press deeper

into my stomach, and suddenly my long underwear and two layers of

overalls are not enough protection from his touch. I shudder, and the world

shifts, and I fill to the brim with a feeling I’ve never felt before. It bubbles

inside me until a soft sigh of pain escapes my lips.

Pain, because I’m not stupid. I know what this feeling is.

King Deshi’s love songs were the first melodies I learned to play on

my harp. My teacher, Biyu, taught me the chords—sitting behind me with

her fingers guiding mine—and Father taught me the words. Baba and I

would sing some of the songs together before it was time for me to go to

bed, but there were some I was too embarrassed to sing with him. Even at

ten or eleven, I realized not all love songs are about the way love affects a

heart. They’re about the way love affects the body, about a hunger that has

nothing to do with food. King Deshi’s metaphors aren’t so clever that I

couldn’t guess their meanings.

The pelican with its “pulsing beak” was no pelican.

Needle told me how it is with a man and a woman and the “beak”

and the “flower” not long after my first blood. Baba thought I was too naïve

to understand, but I wasn’t.… I …

Baba.

My lungs turn to stone, trapping my next breath and holding it

prisoner. He’s gone. It hits me all over again. My chest feels like it’s caving

in, my throat threatens to collapse, and the only thing keeping the heat

behind my eyes from spilling over is knowing how little I deserve to cry.

If my father could see me now, he would be sickened to the depths

of his being. I am even more wrong than I suspected. Wrong.

The most accomplished lover in Yuan kissed me, long and deep, and

continues to do his best to seduce me, and I feel nothing but vague

curiosity and more pronounced anxiety. Now a beast from the desert

stands too close, and I am dizzy with wanting him. I crave his calloused

hands on me. I want to be pinned beneath him the way I was that first

night. But this time he wouldn’t be angry, and I wouldn’t be scared. I would

be eager. Because I am twisted. Tainted. Wrong.

My stomach rebels. I taste stomach juices and the beet soup I forced

down my throat at dinner, and barely swallow it down.

I twist free of Gem’s arms, and stumble to the edge of the green

before stopping to bury my face in my hands. I concentrate on the smell of

the jasmine perfume at my wrists, the contrast of my breath warming my