Beyond the Red Read online

  Serek winces. Looks up at me. “You don’t believe that.”

  “What I believe doesn’t matter. I’m a half-blood slave.”

  Kora sighs. “Eros, you know you’re more than that.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Really? Tell me then, what am I? I can never leave this place—I’d be killed on the spot. I can’t claim my birthright even if I wanted to—I’d be executed before the words left my lips. This is all I have left, whether I like it or not. It’s all I’ve had since someone razed my camp and murdered my family.”

  Kora bites her lip, but at least she doesn’t have the nerve to apologize again. Because she knows full well this is her fault, and no amount of words can undo what’s already been set into motion. Nothing she says will make an ounce of difference, so I don’t want to hear it.

  I turn away and face the window. Stare out into the foreign white streets and golden trees, into a land that will never be my home. “This is who I am. I’ve accepted it, and it’s time you do as well.”

  Serek leaves when some female servants enter the room to help Kora get cleaned up and dressed for dinner. I wait in the bedroom while she bathes, and face the wall as she gets dressed. They put her in a long black and gold dress—because apparently no one’s allowed to wear any other colors here—and I’m handed a new set of clothes and told to bathe while they continue to prepare her hair or whatever it is they do.

  The bathroom looks nearly the same as the one back in Elja, except it’s bigger, of course. The tub isn’t really a tub—it’s a pool in the center of the floor, filled to the brim with steaming hot water. I strip and climb in, scrub the sand out of my hair and the dirt and blood off my skin. I’ll admit it’s nice to be clean again after sitting in my dirt and sweat for far too long, but I don’t linger. It’s strange enough being here without sitting in a luxurious bath meant for royalty.

  My new clothes—or, skirt-pants, I should say—are pretty similar to the uniform I wore in Elja, except it’s black and gold, of course, and the cloth is made of some kinduv shiny silky material that slips through my fingers as easily as water. No shoes again, which works for me because I’m used to walking around barefoot anyway.

  I knock twice before entering the bedroom and step inside. Stare at the wall and try not to die of boredom waiting for them to finish coating Kora’s face in emphasis she doesn’t need. When she turns around, her eyes are lined in thick, smoky black, her eyelashes look twice as long, and her lips shimmer with a dark gloss. She smiles at me and I pull open the door and stare straight ahead.

  Serek is waiting in the hallway, and he takes her arm in his when she steps out. They smile at each other and Serek says she looks beautiful. Maybe I should have drowned myself in that tub to save a lifetime of this ridiculous posturing. Suns and stars, I don’t even want to think about what’ll happen after they marry. And start having heirs.

  I follow them to the dining hall. Like everything else, it’s too large and too extravagant and too shiny and black and gold and covered with banners. The crescent-shaped floating table is barely visible beneath the mountains of meat and drink and colorful fruit and vegetables and soups and desserts. Kora and Serek kneel across from Roma, and I step against the wall, a foot or so away from the line of guards.

  “Good,” Roma says. “You’re all here.”

  Serek smiles. “Did you expect anything less?”

  Roma takes a long drink and slams his goblet down so loudly that it echoes. Kora jumps and the room falls silent. My heart thumps in my ears and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

  Serek isn’t smiling anymore. “Is something wrong, brother?”

  “Wrong? Naï, not at all. Not anymore.” Roma looks up at me—no, not at me, at his guards standing just beside me. “Arrest the half-blood and bring him underground immediately.”

  My heart stops and my blood goes cold as someone grabs my arm. My instinct screams fight, but there are literally hundreds of soldiers in this room alone. I don’t stand a chance, so I let them yank my arms behind my back and cuff my wrists together. Serek and Roma are arguing, and Kora keeps shouting, “He’s my servant, I need him!” but I’ve already missed half of the conversation and she whips around to face me and she’s crying. Gray tears streak down her face.

  She’s not in any danger, so why is she crying?

  “And you believe him?” Serek exclaims. “Dima is not to be trusted!”

  The guards yank me out of the room and the door slams behind us, cutting off the mounting voices. They push me down a long hallway, jostling my steps and walking deliberately fast. But I keep on my feet to the end of the hall and out into the cool night air. Through a courtyard with nine fountains, past half a dozen buildings, into a small black building with a sleek exterior and a thick metal door.

  One of the guards places his hand on the metal, and a small screen above the doorframe blinks green before it slides open. They lead me through several thick doors, each with a security check that requires touching the door or entering a code or speaking a command. Down a long set of steps that seem to go on into the core of the planet itself.

  The deeper we go, the cooler and wetter the air gets, until my skin is sticky and cold. Finally we reach the bottom level, where the floors are black and so cold it burns the pads of my feet as I walk. The only light here comes from dim strips above each thick door, and the hall is so silent, every step sounds like an explosion. They lead me to the very end of the hall, where a guard presses his hand against the door, waits for the telltale green light, and opens it.

  They shove me inside and the door hisses closed behind me.

  I sit in darkness with my eyes closed and my head against the wall. I’ve lost all sensation in my feet from the cold, but I still squeeze my toes together and rub them in a failed attempt to keep them warm. I’m not sure what will happen if I don’t get feeling back in them soon, but it can’t be good.

  The problem with isolation is it gives you way too much time to think. And when I have endless time to my thoughts, I remember things I’ve worked so hard to bury, memories I never wanted to unearth from the darkest places in my mind. Sitting here in absolute silence, the shadows call them from the corners of my mind like a beacon to a lost wanderer in the desert.

  I think of Day, lying in the sand, drenched in red from sand and blood. I think of Nol and Esta—of sharing tea with them the morning before the raid. Of rolling my eyes at the kisses Esta pressed to my cheeks while balanced on the tips of her toes. Of hurrying the embraces from Nol so I could make it to my shift on time. I think of my brother, clasping my shoulder and telling me I’m an uncle, long before I understood what it meant.

  I think of Kora, wrapping her legs around my waist, digging her fingers into my back, and kissing me like her life depended on it. Of the sounds she made as I felt her soft breast and the way she shuddered against me as my lips traced the markings on her neck and our bodies pressed tightly together.

  I think of the way she went rigid when I touched her shoulder afterward, like she actually thought I might hurt her. Of the way she turned away from me and completely shut me out, like what we felt together didn’t mean a blazing thing.

  I stare up at the pitch-black ceiling, wishing I could see the night sky. Wishing I could look up into the glittering expanse of the universe and feel Day and Esta and Nol watching over me. We’ll be with you wherever the stars reach, Esta said, but all I see is empty shadow.

  I’m in the place where the stars don’t reach, far from home and family and everything I ever loved. And now, I’m going to die alone.

  Emptiness feels like a living thing. A parasite growing in the center of your chest, somewhere behind your heart, taking every ounce of warmth and light and happiness and consuming it until there’s nothing left. Emptiness feels like exhaustion, like there’s no reason to fight, no reason to take another breath, no reason to try to survive.

  But emptiness also feels like freedom. Because it doesn’t just take the good, it takes
the bad, too—the anger, the bitterness, the pain—and when it’s done, it leaves you with just you. A cold, shell-like echo of yourself, but still you.

  After hours of staring into nothing, the echo is all I have left.

  Footsteps. The sound is muffled, like dripping water several yards away. I open my eyes and stare into empty space as a low, buzzing noise slices through the silence. My door slides open with a quiet hiss and I stand, squinting through the dim light flooding my cell.

  Roma enters and nods at someone behind him. The ceiling flickers to life and cold white light surrounds me. I squint harder and peer through the white as the door glides closed and Roma steps toward me. He told his guards to wait outside, which doesn’t seem right. Why would he come in here by himself? I’m obviously cuffed, but do I seem that unimposing that he feels it’s safe to enter my cell without a single guard for protection?

  Maybe there is protection—protection I can’t see. Or maybe he’s an opponent I shouldn’t underestimate, especially with my hands tied.

  Roma walks right up to me and pushes me against the wall. He leans in so close that the tip of his nose nearly touches mine. He peers into my eyes. His grip slides from my shoulder to my jaw and he presses my head against the wall and reaches toward my left eye.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to lean away from him, but his fingers force my eyelids open and he squeezes a liquid from a little dropper onto my eyeball. He repeats the process on my right eye, and my eyes sting and flood with tears as he releases my jaw and steps back. Roma glares, clenching his fingers into fists, crushing the dropper in his hand. Shakes his head.

  “You’re a fool if you truly believed cosmetic surface nanites could disguise you, half-blood.” He steps back and crosses his arms, his heavy glare softening into a sortuv curiosity I wouldn’t have expected from him. “So tell me, then. Which one of my weak relatives dishonored my family? Hmm?”

  He doesn’t know. I blink away the tears from my stinging eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Roma snorts. “You don’t know, and yet you have the audacity to come to this place? It’ll take much more than a golden gaze to take me from my rightful place on the throne, boy.”

  Blazing suns, is every royal so paranoid? I roll my eyes and lean against the wall. “I’m not here for your throne.”

  “If you expect me to believe—”

  “I’m here for Kora,” I say. “I’m here because I have nowhere left to go. Because I’ve been assigned to protect her, and I made an oath, and it’s the only choice I have.”

  He raises his eyebrows. Cocks his head slightly to the left. “So the desert trash have rejected you entirely. Interesting.”

  I just shrug and look away. “I have no ambition to take your throne, and anyone who tells you otherwise is just trying to make you paranoid.” I pause and add, “I doubt I even have the right to take your place, anyway. I imagine not all of your golden-eyed relatives have the right to rule.”

  “Not all do,” he says, eyeing me. “But you aren’t the least bit curious to see if you’re one of them?”

  “You say you’re not a fool, but neither am I. I know full well a half-blood will never sit on the Sepharon throne. Who fathered me doesn’t matter—I’ve been disqualified since before I was born.”

  “True.”

  I face him again. “So you can release me.”

  Roma laughs. “Release you? And I thought you said you weren’t a fool.”

  I grimace.

  “Your ancestry doesn’t matter. The fact is, you are living proof of a great dishonor that has befallen my family. You may not be a threat to the throne, but you are a threat to my family’s name, and that cannot stand. You should have been eliminated at the moment of your unfortunate birth.”

  I steel my expression. Pull my lips together and clench my fists.

  “You’ll be executed tomorrow morning in Jol’s Arena. Pray to Kala while you can, for your hours are numbered.”

  Serek and Roma argued for several moments before a guard came to my side and suggested I wait upstairs for the dispute to cease.

  Serek didn’t even notice when I left.

  I paced in my room for what felt like an eternity. Washed my face of tears and makeup and sat on the floor, tracing shapes on the stone. Eros was a prisoner, again, and it was my fault, again. I owed him so much and yet it seemed all I ever managed to do was get him arrested, hurt, or tortured.

  He saved my life and I couldn’t even manage to keep him decently safe. What use am I, if I can’t even accomplish that much?

  Two knocks and the door opens behind me. I spin around and face Serek, but the sight of him sends my stomach plummeting—his eyes are hard and sad.

  Whatever was said, it clearly didn’t go well.

  He straightens his shoulders and clasps his hands behind his back. “Kora …” he begins, but I don’t want to hear it.

  I rush toward him and clasp his arms. “You have to convince him. You know Eros doesn’t deserve this—he saved my life twice, Serek! I can’t just let this happen!”

  “Is that all?” he asks.

  I frown. “Is what all?”

  “Is that the sole reason you wish to save him? Because you owe him a debt?”

  My hands slide off his arms and hang useless at my sides. I can’t meet his eyes. “What are you asking me?”

  “You know exactly what I’m asking, Kora.”

  I do, but I’m too terrified to answer. Because I know what the answer should be, and yet I can’t seem to speak it.

  “I see.” Serek sighs heavily and looks away. He steps to the desk and sits in one of the chairs. My stomach churns and guilt nags at the back of my mind, but then he speaks. “He cares for you as well.”

  My gaze shoots up to his and his shoulders slump—a defeated exhale. He readjusts his posture and the hurt in his eyes twists a guilty knife in my core, but I can’t deny what he seems to already know.

  “I can’t be with him,” I whisper. “It’ll never work.”

  “Because he’s a half-blood?”

  I can’t meet his eyes to answer. “And a slave. With my authority over him … it wouldn’t be right.”

  “Kora …” Serek sighs, stands, and steps toward me. He rests his hands on my shoulders and when I dare to look up at him, his expression surprises me. He should be angry, or disgusted, but instead he looks at me with a soft understanding that I don’t deserve. “One way or another, I believe Eros’s status will change. As for his blood … has his mixed heritage made him a lesser man in any way?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then what is it? If you care for him, what stops you?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit, and he smiles sadly.

  “I told you once our union was a decision I wanted you to be secure with. What I didn’t say, and I should have, is I don’t want you to choose me for the wrong reason. I care very much for you, Kora, but having you and seeing you regret choosing me would be much more painful than letting you go. Just give that some thought.” He releases me and sits at the desk again, inhaling deeply as he rubs his face with his hands. Something inside me aches seeing him like this, knowing how much I’ve hurt him.

  But he’s right. As much as I care for Serek … I’m falling in love with Eros.

  “Roma spoke to your brother,” Serek says.

  My brother. I bury the emotions welling up inside me and glance up at him. “And?”

  He sighs. “Roma says Dima provided compelling evidence against Eros. He wouldn’t say what, but he said it proved to him without a doubt that Eros replaced your lipstain with poison and gave your hand servant the antidote in the form of a sweet to give to you, so that you wouldn’t poison yourself.”

  I clench my fists at my sides. “Eros never even looked at my accessories, let alone switched some of it with … that’s ridiculous, Serek.”

  “Furthermore, he said Dima showed him proof that Eros was taking orders from the rebels. That they intended to strike your brother and
you next.” Serek looks at me and shakes his head. “Roma has made up his mind.”

  My whole body is shaking. “You can’t believe this. That doesn’t even make sense—if they supposedly wanted me dead, they wouldn’t have bothered with an antidote. Tell me you don’t believe this nonsense—”

  “I don’t, Kora, but what I believe doesn’t make a difference. I am not ken Sira, Roma is, and he has already made a decision. There’s no talking sense to him. Eros is to be executed tomorrow morning.”

  Something like a knife rips through me, filling my lungs with fire. Eros is going to die. Eros is going to be executed and it’s my fault. I brought him here. I destroyed his home, cut the only ties he had to his people, and dragged him across the sands to this place.

  His blood is on my hands. But this time, I won’t sit idly by. “We have to release him.” I step toward the door, but Serek grabs my arm.

  “There’s more.”

  I try to pull out of his grasp, but his grip is strong. “I don’t care about anything else—I’m going to release Eros before—”

  “He’s ordering the immediate execution of every untracked redblood.”

  The fire within me dies and is replaced with the coldest of winds. “What?” My voice is a breath.

  “He said they’re more trouble than they’re worth. That Safara must be cleaned of their … infection.”

  I can’t breathe. “But Serek, that’s …”

  “Genocide. I told him as much, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s already begun preparations.” Serek’s hand slips off my arm and he covers his mouth, then stares at the floor.

  My legs go numb, so I sit beside him. “He can’t just … that’s tens of thousands of lives!”

  “Kora, he can do whatever he wants. There isn’t a spirit on Safara that can overrule ken Sira.”

  He’s right, of course—everyone answers to ken Sira. His word is law. But how could he order something so horrible? How is it even possible? “And he intends to send his armies across the planet to somehow track them down and slaughter them all?”