Beyond the Red (24 page)

Serek pulls away first and, when he smiles at me, my heart forgets to beat. “We have an audience.” He smiles softly, and heat creeps into my cheeks and the back of my neck.

I almost forgot where we were.

Someone starts clapping and the applause spreads like wildfire. Serek offers the crowd a warm smile and I do the same, although I wish more than anything the crowd wasn’t here and Serek and I were alone.

We could be alone. Tonight. After the celebration is over, I could invite him to my room, where our kisses wouldn’t be judged by hundreds of eyes. Where we could be together, for the first time, as a pair. A flutter rushes through my belly. My heart stutters at the thought, and Serek is watching me with the most incredible look, and we could do it.

The night that Midos stole from me, Serek could return to me.

He spins me to the music and I am certain more than ever that I’m going to do it. This is how I’ll move beyond my past and embrace the future—this is how my life with Serek will begin—and I’m twirling and I catch a glimpse of smiles and winks and Eros.

Eros, watching stiffly from the edge of the room, his arms at his sides and his lips pressed tightly together. My stomach falls out from under me. I don’t understand. Why does one look from my servant suck the smile and heat from my core and replace them with this heavy, cold air?

But then I complete my turn and lose his gaze and Serek presses his lips to my ear again. “I think your brother would like to dance,” he mutters.

The last thing I want is to dance with Dima, and I can’t imagine why he’d have any interest in dancing with me, but I sigh and nod. “If I must.”

He kisses my cheek. His lips are smooth and soft against my skin. “Don’t worry,
el Avra
. I will rescue you before the end of the next song.”

I smile as he twirls me away and into my brother’s arms. I try to force the smile to stay, but Dima didn’t choose to dance with me just to be near me. Is he trying to get me away from Serek? Or perhaps he intends to lecture me about bold displays of affection or remind me, somehow, of my inadequacy? I take his hand and follow the steps and stare over his shoulder.

I don’t see Serek. Or Eros.

“Happy lifecycle, sister,” Dima says. “May this cycle be your best one yet.”

I blink. He’s wishing me well? He ignores me for nearly a term, argues with me, and now wants to wish me well? “Happy lifecycle, Dima,” I say cautiously. “Although we both know you hate this celebration.” He smiles and shrugs and I arch an eyebrow—when’s the last time I’ve seen him smile? Not since before the incident with Jarek. Well before that, even. “
Kala
,” I say. “You’re actually in a good mood.”

His smile widens just slightly and he twirls me once. “Why shouldn’t I be? It’s a special occasion, Kora. The celebration of our birth, and, I imagine, a happy announcement later on?”

“Perhaps.” I watch him carefully. “You’ve been drinking. And smoking?” Dima laughs. He has to be intoxicated. I literally haven’t heard him laugh in two cycles. “You have been, haven’t you?”

“Does it matter if I have? This celebration is for us, remember?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I answer. “
Kala
knows it’s good to see you smile.”

“It’s good to have a reason to smile.” He twirls me again and I’m almost enjoying myself, which feels unnatural considering my company.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I say when we face each other again. “I would have thought the possible news would have you … in considerably less agreeable spirits.”

“My sister’s possible engagement to
ken Sira-kaï
is a reason to celebrate, I would think.”

“I would think so, too, but then again I rarely understand the motivation behind your moods.”

He shrugs. “I am a complicated man.” I snort and he raises an eyebrow. “I do hope you’ve been more attractive in front of your would-be mate.”

I slap his arm and he laughs again and, for a moment, it’s almost like we’re young again and he doesn’t know to be angry at me, he doesn’t know to resent me for being born first and stealing his place on the throne. Had I known all it took to bring him to this state was a couple of drinks or a long smoke, I would have flooded him with
azuka
and
zeïli
leaf eons ago.

“Dima, while you’re here …” I hesitate. Will he be angry if I bring it up? I suppose it doesn’t matter—he refused my apology before, but maybe now, when he’s in a significantly better mood, he’ll be willing to listen. “I apologize for invading your privacy. It was your secret to keep, and I understand why you were upset with me.”

Dima stiffens and his smile fades, but he doesn’t push me away or interrupt me, so I rush into the rest before he tries to stop me.

“I just want you to know it’s okay, and I won’t say anything to anyone, but you don’t have to hide it from me.”

His eyes harden and he shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it, Kora. I’d rather we both pretended it didn’t happen.”

I frown. “It doesn’t have to be that way—”

“I
want
it that way. Do you understand? I won’t discuss this any further.” His grip on my arms is stiff as he stares hard over my shoulder.

“Okay.” I bite the corner of my lip. “Just know if you ever need someone to talk—”

“I don’t.”

“I know, but—”

Someone screams behind me, and the sound is a bucket of ice water down my spine. Dima stops in mid-step and I spin around to see who screamed. The crowd is surrounding someone and they’re looking at the floor. Someone collapsed?

Black-coated guards rush forward and start pushing through the crowd. My breath freezes in my lungs. I quickly maneuver through everyone—they move out of the way as soon as they see I’m the one shoving them to the side—and my guards are moving toward me, but I have to see before I’m pulled away, I have to know what’s happening. I push through the final ring of the crowd and people are screaming for a medic and I can’t breathe. I’m going to be sick.

Serek is convulsing on the floor.

“Neja!” I spin around and search the crowd for my doctor—then I spot her, struggling to move through the thick mass. My guards have almost reached me but I point to Neja. “
Naï!
Get her through now!” They spin around to reach her and Serek’s guards form a circle around him, pushing the crowd back. My eyes sting. I might be sick. How could this be happening?

“Kora,” Eros whispers in my ear. “We have to go. You can’t be here.”

“Wait,” I say, but I can’t see Serek anymore through the wall of black-clad bodies. Neja has slipped into the circle and my guards are pulling me away and Eros keeps saying
he’ll be all right, we have to go, you’re not safe
and I’m not safe but I don’t care.

Hands grab my arms and pull me out of the room. I’m too numb to struggle.

My cheeks are hot with streaks of tears and I’m in my room hugging Iro and I don’t know how I got here or how long I’ve been sitting on my bed or when I took off my shoes or if I’ve been crying all this time.

Eros is watching me from across the way. My guards are nowhere in sight—probably standing in the hall.

“I don’t understand what happened,” I whisper.

“I’m not sure, either,” he says. “He was dancing with an ambassador and he collapsed.”

“He was fine,” I hear myself say. “He was fine before. I was just with him …”

Eros takes my hands. I’m not sure when he got so close to me. He’s not allowed to be this close to me, not here where anyone could enter at a moment’s notice.

I’m not sure I care.

His hands are courser than Serek’s, but equally strong as he kneels in front of me and rubs his thumbs over the back of my hand, sending sparks of heat skittering over my skin. “He’s being well taken care of. Neja saved my life. She’ll help Serek, too.”

I nod repeatedly. Although I stare at Eros, I focus on nothing.

Kala,
if he doesn’t recover … nausea surges through me and I press my hand over my lips. I can’t think that way. Eros is right—Neja is extraordinarily skilled. She’ll help him. He’ll be fine.

Please be fine.

How could this be happening again? Have I displeased
Kala
so much that He would allow not one, not two, but
three
of my lifecycle celebrations to be ruined with some sort of tragedy? My coronation and Midos a cycle later were awful enough, but now this?

Please please please be fine.

Eros leans toward me and looks deeply into my gaze. He passes me a washcloth and offers me a small smile. I crumple the cloth in my hand, and stare at the cloudy gray filtering of his eyes. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now that his hair has grown back, Eros has very long dark eyelashes.

“Kora,” he says. “I’m going to let go now. You should wash up and prepare to see visitors. You’ll probably be getting updates on Serek’s condition very soon.”

I nod and his hands slide out of mine. I move numbly to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, blinking until my reflection comes into focus. I submerge my face until my eyes stop stinging, rub the makeup off my eyelashes and eyelids, and clean the dark streaks off my cheeks. I try to wash the stain off my lips, but it sticks stubbornly to my skin. It’ll fade in the night. When I emerge from the bathroom, I am still alone, and Eros is standing beside the door. I glance at him, but he shakes his head. No word yet.

I sit on my bed and twist my fingers in the fabric of my dress. “What if it was meant for me?” I whisper.

“I was thinking the same,” Eros says, “but we still don’t know this is an attack.”

I shake my head and squeeze the fabric into my hand. “It has to be. Serek wasn’t ill.”

“I know, but—”

“Eros, please. We both know this was an attack.” I pull my shoulders back. “And I will see to it that whoever is behind it is punished severely.”

We wait in near-silence for several segments. Anja is conspicuously absent, but I don’t summon her—I wouldn’t want her here, anyway. Eros stands in place beside the door, but I pace incessantly across the room, to my window, to the glass doors leading to the garden, to the bathroom, onto my bed, back over the carpet. My pacing makes Iro anxious, and he moves back and forth across the room with me. I drum my fingers and try to read, but I can’t focus on the words. I can’t focus on anything but memories of Serek’s convulsing body on the stone floor.

Kala
, I hope he’s okay.

My stomach turns endlessly and tides of heat, then cold, overwhelm me as I imagine the worst—Serek’s dead, or comatose, or in severe, permanent pain, or something equally awful. My fingers shake and I grip the windowsill. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe. One lungful of air after another.

“Would you like some water?” Eros asks, and I shake my head and spin around.

He’s standing right in front of me, and he places his hands on my shoulders. Even though I want more than anything to collapse in his arms, I almost tell him to step away—it won’t be long before someone comes with news of Serek’s condition. But there’s a softness in his eyes, a deep-set worry trapping the words in my throat, and I can’t bring myself to speak them.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

I know I shouldn’t—it’s dangerous and I need to get away from him before someone sees—but I melt. He pulls me into his arms and caresses my hair and says everything I need to hear. We sit on the edge of my bed and he watches me and there’s a strength there, in his face, in the intensity of his gaze that I need.

But the comfort isn’t just in his eyes, it’s in his body against mine. It’s in the way his muscular form holds mine upright, the way his strong arms hold me together and his breath blows smooth and slow onto my hair. It’s the spicy scent of his skin, the rumble of his voice, the way my head fits perfectly in the space beneath his chin.

This feels right, somehow. This feels perfect. This feels like we were molded together and separated for so long, until now. This embrace, this beating of his heart against my ear and rhythmic inhale-exhale of his chest, this is everything I could want wrapped up in a single moment, were it not for the undertone of waiting for bad news.

But if this is perfect, then there must be something wrong with me, because there’s nothing perfect about an Eljan queen getting close to her half-blood servant.

I close my eyes and push away the thought. I don’t want or need to think of politics right now. This night has been terrible enough without my ruining a much-needed moment of peace.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Sure,” he says. Then, after a pause, he touches the wrap on my disfigured arm and a chill washes over me, turning my muscles to stone. “Why do you keep your arm covered all the time?”

No one has ever asked me that before, but it’s because most everyone knows. It’s hard to forget a coronation that ends in a ball of raging fire. I shudder and pull my arm across my chest and stare out the window. “I mentioned to you the assassination attempt at my coronation that killed hundreds of people.”

He hesitates, then nods.

I bite my lip. “Well, I didn’t escape unscathed.”