Within the Walls [NEW VERSION]

Chapter 19

The storm clouds roll in like a beast creeping across a desert plain, coating the sky in fiery hues as the sun cascades into the depths of the horizon. Snow will likely fall tonight. I drum my grown-out nails on the window ledge, grimacing at the shiver running down my spine. My stomach twists, and clenches, making me bite my lip and play with my hair. I need to figure out how to get Lyra more food. Perhaps, I can sneak her some of my own meals. I know the route home. Could I sneak out?

If I don't... Lyra's too-thin body, so akin to a skeleton, could send her soul back to the stars. The very thought of it makes my eyes prickle with tears and a shudder ripple through my bones.

A knock yanks me from my thoughts.

Ruben peeks his head into the room. "Ready for dinner?"

Biles burns the back of my throat, but I bury the surge of emotions. "Yes." I have never sounded so disinterested – so unready.

My dress, a pale pink number with a beige corset, flows around my ankles. Ruben wears dark pants with a white shirt and suspenders over his shoulders. A loose strand of brown hair falls into his face. There is a moment, a pause, when all I can see is the little boy behind those eyes. Swimming. Drowning in his terror, in his father's cruelty. Before I can stop myself, my hand flies out. His lips part. And I brush the strand of hair off his face. "Elle," he says, breathless. And I am weightless. I don't move – can't move. For that moment, there is only him. And I. In this room with the candle-flecked walls and the utter breath between us. He says my name again and his voice ignites a spark that licks the side of my neck, plummeting into the base of my spine.

"You are afraid." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can catch them, and they make their impact like icy rain running its claws down his chest.

He stiffens. A slight scowl flicks onto his face, like a cat mere breaths before it scratches. A warning. "I cannot show him a lick of fear."

"I think we both know that the king is smart enough to see you."

"Apparently, you see me, too."

"How could I not? You are right there, so blazingly obvious. It's like I am looking into a mirror."

"I thought you said we were nothing alike," he says with a scoff, somehow looming closer.

I let out a bitter laugh. "I think we both know that isn't true."

There is a freckle on his lower lip and a tiny scar on his chin. Details.

Ruben releases the tension in his jaw and blows out his cheeks. "Let's just get this over with. I can think of a hundred other people I'd rather share a dinner with other than my father and you."

"You say that as if I arranged this meal," I bite back, pulling myself away from the trance that is him, and turn to the full-length mirror, trying to untangle the knots in my hair. I whirl back around. "Now, do I at least look presentable for a royal dinner with His Majesty?"

Ruben's throat bobs as his gaze slowly, agonisingly slowly, traces the shape of my body, eventually arriving back at my face. "Yes," he says, practically shoving out the word.

"Great. Let's go. I'm starving."

--

The dining hall is an enormous room, with chandeliers draping from the coffered, marble ceiling. Different shades of marble splash the floor, deep purple, orange, blue, and white, like a mosaic for a giant. Sculptures of women figures, lions, and elephants. Creatures from the Old World.

A long table gobbles up the room, stretching towards the arched, stained-glass window in the northern wall. King Talin perches on the grand, hand-carved chair at the head of the table. He grips his goblet, and those venom-green eyes trail my movements as we approach and sit. The servants scurry forward and push our chairs in, before pouring fizzing wine into the goblets.

My goblet clinks with Ruben's across the table. His eyes roam my face, studying me carefully as we sip the bubbling liquor. A smirk rests on his lips, eyes dancing with amusement. Meanwhile, I squirm in my seat. I wish I could jump from the table and sprint away. I can feel the king's burning gaze without even having to look.

"Elle," he booms from the head of the table. His voice scrapes down my back and I shiver, gritting my teeth. "So kind of you to join us for supper. I'd like to get to know one another this evening."

I lower the goblet and wait as the servant scoops steaming mashed, herby potatoes onto my plate. My stomach rumbles, still unused to all the food. I wonder if I can sneak bread into my serviette and take it across to Lyra.

"I'd like nothing more," I say, forcing a pleasant smile. But I am quite sure he can see right through it as if it is made of glass.

"Perfect. I'll start." He leans forward, clasping his hands together in front of his dinner plate. "Did you know that when my son was small, we used to paint together? I taught him how to hold a brush, and how to move it across the page with just the right looseness and precision. I taught him how to mix colours and let his creativity run wild."

I resist the urge to grab my goblet and drink the entire thing. "It sounds like a lovely father-son bonding."

The king turns to Ruben. "You were quite talented. Loved to paint pictures of the garden and of the sunsets and night sky.

Ruben clutches his goblet so tightly that I fear it will break. Red blooms into his cheeks like a fresh wound seeping into a linen shirt. "I don't paint anymore."

The king grabbed his fork and stabbed his asparagus, our cue to eat too. "You should pick up the brush again."

"You didn't exactly like my last picture," Ruben says, bringing his goblet to his lips.

"Well, it only seemed that... portraits of people were not your skill." The king turns back to me. "I also taught Ruben to read. His mother was busy, you see. I didn't want the nannies to help with reading as I believed a young boy should learn from his father."

Ruben rubs his lips, pulling down the smile forming on his face. "You only let me read books from the Old World," he says, shaking his head, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"That's because all the New World literature is codswallop!" The king throws his head back in braying laughter and I almost catch myself smiling. "You loved some of those books, too, my boy."

My boy.

A jolt snaps my spine straight. I can see the word strikes a strange feeling in Ruben's heart too by the flinch in his eyes. But he somehow still smiles.

"My mother used to read with me, too," I say, sawing through my lamb with the steak knife. "She let me read anything. Books from the New World and Old. Poetry. Children's' nursery rhymes. Novels. Whatever I could."

"And your father?" The King raises a brow, the glimmer in his eyes draining like water down a plughole.

"He... taught me to not fear my own strength and abilities."

The king pulls his lips into an odd combination of a grin and a sneer. "I just wanted to say how you have taken me by surprise the past few days."

There is an edge to his tone that at once sends my heart slamming into my ribs. But I school my face into neutrality. "How so, Your Majesty?"

"I am warming up to you. A girl plucked from the streets of the Convex village, to marry my son. I think it is a great way to unify the Sectors. A perfect little distraction, you are. Perhaps, my son's ideas hold some value after all."

His words are dainty, poised knives held to my quivering throat. A cat playing with a frightened mouse.

My stomach drops. My mouth dries and I choke down my sparkling wine as the blade slices through me. Cold as a winter storm. And those royal eyes flash with satisfaction as he sees that I realise what he knows.

He knows I left the Concave Sector.