Burning Kingdoms. Lauren DeStefano
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“Don’t. Please. I can’t be pitied right now.”
“All right,” he says.
I nod to the closed door beside us. “They’re making Pen and me share a room with the princess. Pen thinks she’ll kill us in our sleep.”
“I should sleep with you,” he says.
“You know we can’t change where they placed us,” I say. “It might insult them. They were kind enough to take us in at all.”
“You’re right,” he says. “And sooner or later they’ll come to collect on that kindness.”
“What do you suppose they want from us?” I say.
“If it’s a way up to Internment, they’ll soon be disappointed, won’t they?” He makes an effort at a smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, if the princess doesn’t kill you and Pen, and Judas doesn’t kill me.”
“We must survive if only to see what poor animal the Pipers cook for breakfast.” I rise on tiptoes to kiss him. “Good night.”
As I reach for the doorknob, he grabs my wrist. “I also think we should take an opportunity to get familiar with this kingdom,” he says. “In case we have to run.”
“Run.” I try not to laugh, but it’s so absurd. “Basil, where would we go?”
He seems worried, though. “Don’t you think it’s strange that they’ve built a theme park just so they can gaze at the ‘magical floating city’ and yet when the lot of us falls down from it, the king wants to keep us a secret?”
“It is strange,” I say. “But everything about this world is strange so far.”
“All I mean is, what’s to stop him from killing us all if he pleases? No one would be the wiser.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I say, and I feel a chill. “Oh, Basil, do you think that could happen?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “But we should keep that in mind.”
I nod. “We’ll familiarize ourselves with the city. Pen could even draw up a map, I should think.” I force myself to smile. “It will work out, Basil.”
He gives me the same sort of distracted smile. “Good night,” he says.
After I’ve washed up and changed into one of the many nightgowns hanging in the closet, I look for Alice and Lex. They’ll surely be together. When I get to the door at the end of the hallway and I knock, no one answers. There’s light coming from under the door, though. “Hello?” I say, and turn the knob. “Alice?”
“Quiet,” Judas says. “Close the door behind you.”
He’s knelt on the floor beside Amy, whose skin is red. Her hair is damp, and I recognize that dead stare in her eyes.
“I came in to check on her before everyone went to dinner, and I found her in the middle of a fit,” he says. “A bad one.”
“She’s been lying on the floor like that since dinner?” I touch her forehead, and she flinches and gasps, but there’s no real awareness about her.
“I’m afraid to move her,” he says. “Daphne would always say never to move her while her eyes are still open, to wait until she looks like she’s sleeping.”
Daphne aspired to be a medic before her murder, and I’m sure she knew how to care for her sister’s fits, but it doesn’t seem right to leave a sick child on the floor like this.
“I’ll get Lex,” I say.
“No.” He grabs my arm and pulls me back down. “She needs to be kept calm. She doesn’t like when anyone sees her like this; it makes her feel weak.”
“She’s ill, Judas. Look at her. She needs a doctor, and Lex is the closest we’ve got.”
He looks at Amy. Her lips twitch like she’s talking to one of her ghosts.
“She needs a doctor,” I repeat.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “You just don’t. If you want to help, bring a cold cloth from the water room and let’s try to break her fever.”
I do as he says and drench the green towel from the water room.
“Her parents hoped she’d grow out of this,” he says, dabbing at her cheeks and behind her neck. “It’s only gotten worse as she’s gotten older. And the pills and meetings with the specialist have caused more harm than good.” He looks at me. “Want to hear something crazy?”
“What?” I say.
“She’s got me believing in apparitions with all of this. She swears they talk to her.”
“I don’t think that’s crazy,” I say. “Our history book doesn’t account for the unexplained, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
Her eyes have closed now. She’s surrendered to whatever dreams haunt that troubled mind of hers. I hope for all of this snow to be gone soon. I hope for a morning bright with sun. If she can see that the sunlight is the same whether we’re on Internment or the ground, it will surely help. It has to.
Pen catches up with me as I’m leaving the water room. “There you are,” she says. “You left me alone with Princess Fancy. It’s a wonder I didn’t kill her.” She leans closer to me. “What is it?” she says. “You look troubled.”
I tug her into the water room and close the door behind us. I tell her about Basil’s theory that Jack Piper and the king could be hiding us away in case he means to kill us.
Pen hardly seems surprised. “Yes, I’ve been thinking that as well,” she says, scrubbing her face at the sink with a cloth. “For all we know, these people have a history of killing outsiders. Or one another. Or anyone. It’s a strange thing to be in a world and not know a thing about its past.”
“So what should we do?” I ask.
“As you said, familiarize ourselves with this kingdom as best we can,” Pen says.
“Do you think you could draw a map?” I say.
“If they have a library, it likely already has a map of the kingdom. I could copy it and add my own notes,” she says.
“Jack Piper’s eldest daughter seems close to our age,” I say. “Maybe we can befriend her and gain some insight into the family.”
Pen shrugs. “We could. I doubt that she’ll be privy to her father’s politics—he seems annoyed with his children at best—but she could probably teach us a thing or two.”
She sits beside me on the edge of the tub. “I think we’d be wise to learn from her, but not to trust her,” she says. “We shouldn’t trust anyone in this world.”
3
There is sunlight come morning, but it’s not the same.
Pen stands at the curtains, parting them with her hand. Beyond the window there is nothing but white.
Celeste, still sleeping, turns away, muttering in protest at the light.
Pen nods from me to the window. “Come and see,” she whispers. “It’s like we’re inside an unfinished sketch.”
Even the water on the horizon is gray and white. It sparkles as it fades into the distance. There is no train framing this city. There is no limit. It could well go on forever, to a horizon it would take ten lifetimes to run to.
There’s a draft coming through the window frame, and my skin swells with little bumps.
“I can hardly stand to look at it,” Pen says excitedly.
“It’s