but it’s the quickest way to get him to leave. “I was in my garden. Alone.

I’ve been there most of the past two days.”

“The guards never mentioned seeing anyone in your garden.”

“I hid in the wheelbarrow when I heard them coming,” I say, thinking

fast. “I didn’t want company, but I couldn’t stand sitting up here doing

nothing. But I did too much. That’s why I asked Needle to bring enough

food for two. I need to eat. I barely had the strength to get back into the

tower.”

“How did you get in and out of the tower?” he asks. “The guards

never saw you leave, and I’ve been watching the main stair all evening, and

then suddenly here you were, on the balcony. Is there a secret entrance, a

hidden passage?”

“Please,” I mumble, not having to fake the weakening of my knees

that sends me sliding back down to the ground. “I need to rest.”

I close my eyes, but that doesn’t make my head ache any less. If

anything, it hurts more. I stifle a moan, wishing I were in my bed, wishing I

could lie down right here and press my forehead against the cold stone.

“You swear there isn’t …” He clears his throat. “You swear you were

alone? You haven’t been with another man?”

I want to scream, but instead I shake my head, just the barest

movement back and forth. “No. No one.”

Not yet, I add silently, but if there is any way to manage it, I will make

sure I take a lover before I marry you.

Marry Bo. The thought was nervous-making before. Now it makes me

feel like a fish being gutted. But it’s unavoidable. Junjie will never go along

with any of my proposed changes for the city if I defy him. If I refuse to

marry his son, I’ll find my chief advisor even more difficult to deal with. And

if I relieve Junjie of his duties, my people will be frantic with fear and not

inclined to love me for turning their world upside down. They have faith in

Junjie; they trust him to keep the city safe. Even before my father died, it

was Junjie and his strong, solid presence at the head of the military force

that gave the people a sense of security. My father told me as much.

“If that’s true …” Bo’s sigh places him no more than a foot away, his

mouth closer to the floor than it should be. He must have knelt beside me

while I was lost in the misery of my thoughts. “I apologize. I never meant to

upset you. I just … I couldn’t bear thinking of you with someone else. It hurt

me. I care for you, Isra.”

I would laugh if I could.

I know what a hurt boy sounds like. A hurt boy sounds like Gem did

last night—angry, but desperate for a reason to put his anger away. Bo

wasn’t hurt; he was embarrassed, and intended to make me pay for

shaming him with another man, despite the fact that he has slept with

every unmarried noblewoman under the age of thirty, and a few of the

married ones besides.

And this is the man I will marry. This is the man my children will turn

to for comfort when their mother is dead.

“I don’t feel well,” I choke out, breath coming fast as I try to keep

from crying, from being sick, from joining the colors flashing behind my

eyes and exploding in a burst of pain. “Fetch Needle.”

“You don’t need her. I’ll take care of you.” His too-warm, too-damp

hand touches my cheek, and I flinch, head rushing with thoughts of how

that hand will feel on my body, how that hand will touch places only Gem

has touched, places I don’t want anyone else to touch.

It sickens me. It’s too much. I’m—

I roll onto my hands and knees and retch, bringing up cactus

milk—the only thing I’ve had to eat or drink all day—and continuing to

heave even when the last of it is gone. By the time I’m able to stop,

Needle’s cold fingers are on my forehead, testing the temperature of my

skin before pulling my hair back and plaiting it into a swift braid.

I suppose Bo decided he’d rather not take care of me after all, if

there is retching involved.

I’ll have to arrange to vomit every night for the rest of my life.

“Needle,” I sob, swiping the sleeve of my long underwear across my

mouth. “Are you all right?”

I hold out my palm, and her hand moves beneath my fingers. I’m fine.

Has he hurt you?

“No. I’m okay. I’m just … I’m ill,” I say, voice trembling. “I think the

eggs you sent with me this morning might have gone bad while I was

working in the field.”

I know Needle will understand and go along with my pretense, even

before she signs, Pretend I’ve apologized. Send him away. No one else

knows you were gone. We can keep our secret if we’re careful.

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s m-m-mine,” I stutter, the urge to be sick

returning as the lights flashing behind my eyes get brighter and brighter.

Shapes and colors flash and disappear, shifting and swimming as I turn my

head. “Bo?”

“Yes?” He sounds moments from retching himself.

“Will you fetch the healers?”

“Right away.” I hear him turn to go, and I dare to hope that Needle

and Gem and I will escape this adventure undiscovered.

And then I hear it—a soft grunt over the side of the balcony.

A Gem grunt.

SIXTEEN

ISRA

NO. No!

Bo’s footsteps reverse direction, moving back toward Needle and me

on the balcony. “What was that?”

“Wait!” I turn and grab blindly for his leg.

No. Not so blindly. I gasp as I catch a glimpse of a pale, thin hand

reaching out in front of me, before the darkness steals it away.

My hand. Mine. I saw it. With my own eyes. Peeling skin above the

knuckles, long bony fingers, and blunt fingertips with dirt under the nails.

My nails.

“Wait!” I cling to Bo’s pant leg, bile burning in my throat as I fumble

for his hand and force myself to my feet while the world comes at me in

bits and pieces. “My eyes.” I swallow, ignoring the vertigo that threatens to

claim me as fleeting pieces of the puzzle flash and fade, flash and fade.

“The poison … I can … I see …”

I catch a flash of Bo’s shoulder, his uniform red and green; a burst of

light from inside the tower where the candles burn brightly; a glimpse of

Needle’s head and the cap she wears over her hair; a fragment of the night

beyond the dome, lit up with hard winter stars; movement at the edge of

the balcony, large hands, and a swiftly moving shadow.

I have to get Bo inside before he sees.

“We have to go to the healers.” I lunge for the door leading into the

music room, holding tightly to Bo’s hand, but not tightly enough. His fingers

slip through mine as he pulls away.

I know the second he sees Gem. His cry bursts from somewhere deep

inside him, raw and brimming with such utter surprise that it’s clear Gem

was the last man he expected to find climbing into my tower.

I spin, and the world spins with me. I nearly fall, but Needle tucks

herself under my arm and holds me up. I clutch her shoulder and blink

furiously as Gem steps out of the shadows.

“How did it get out of its cell?” Bo makes an effort to sound

menacing, but fails. Without his spear—which he seems to have left

elsewhere—he’s helpless against a Monstrous man, and he knows it. Fear

makes his voice squeak as he orders Gem to “Stay back. Keep your

distance!”

“I heard you cry out,” Gem says to me, ignoring Bo. “I came to make