Page 22 of Xantera
“What do I deserve?” I cry out over the wind and howling.
Despite the fact that he’s supposed to be one of my twelve protectors, I’ve never been so terrified, seeing him clinging to the Wall like that just below me.Behindme. I don’t want my back exposed to him, and I have half an idea to turn around when he pounces.
“You deserve a Monster.”
The Third Guardian pushes me, and I fall.
And fall.
And fall.
My own scream is tearing apart my lungs. My hair whips around my face. I close my eyes to prepare for the impact of that distant ground when I land against a warm, solid body that breaks my fall.
Instantly, I want to curl up against that chest and cry against his shoulder. I want to let his hands press tight against my body and keep me safe. I want to kiss his mouth as a thank you for catching me.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” his familiar voice croons.
My eyes pop open—and yet I’m still caught in the dream.
Yellow irises gleam wickedly back at me. A cruel mouth opens to reveal teeth as sharp as the spikes on the Wall. Claws scrape againstmy skin in a threatening caress. And in the thickness of the mist, it looks like two horns rise from either side of his head.
“Hello, little nightmare.”
I wake up with a start, panting heavily.
My throat is dry, my eyes wet. Every inch of my skin tingles, as if despite the horrible dream I just endured, my body wanted it to keep going. To feel what would happen, in the confines of my unconscious brain, if the Monster continued to hold me and touch me.
Not good. Not good at all.
For the last four days, I’ve wrestled with the choices laid out in front of me: throw the necklace as far away from me as I can, just like Diggory did, and be rid of that deadly, masculine voice in my head, or turn it in and risk the wrath of the Guardians for keeping it in the first place.
I’ve done my best to push away the sly, third option that whispers in a dark recess of my mind:keep it. Keep it and wear it and get to know him more. Find out why your pulse quickens at the very thought of him. Push and pull and take and give like a heart that has finally started to truly beat.
No. No more of this. The longer I have the necklace, the longer I’ll be subjecting myself to this special kind of torment, where nothing is straightforward and everything doesn’t make sense. I shouldn’t be afraid of the Guardians. I shouldn’t want to see what the Monster looks like without all that mist shrouding the rest of his features. I shouldn’t be dreaming of the other side of the Wall.Lucanwas so confident I’d run back to him a third time, but the Cardinal List of Rules trained me better than that. I can’t allow this to go on any further.
As I lean my head back against my pillow, my breath finally settling, my ears pick up the sound again, for real this time. Howling. Tormented, furious howling, as if the one making the sound is flinging it at me and me alone. For the past four nights, it’s been like a morbid lullaby.
Well, good.
I hope he’s reeling, unable to forget me—that my brief appearance and sudden departure haunt his mind for the rest of his life, however long that may be. Maybe forever. I hope Idobecome his nightmare. Because my sudden streak of rebellion officially ends here.
I know what I have to do.
The congregation in front of the Blood Moon Palace is as thick as it always is on Sanctuary Sunday.
Instead of going to the Recreation Center, I’ve come to the Asking, when the Blood Moon Palace accepts visitors. Well, at least up to the front steps.
Some people spread out beneath the balconies and wave up at their Chosen loved ones, while others, including me, form a line leading to the double doors. There, stationed right between two sentries, a human representative sits on an oversized wooden chair to hear requests, questions, and grievances from the citizens of Xantera. Our messages are then passed on to the Twelve Guardians, who will take all the information into consideration when they decide all aspects of our lives.
I’m willing to bet nobody’s ever stood in line to hand in a forbidden necklace that connects their mind to the very Monster we’re taught to fear since birth. But here I am, doing exactly that.
As soon as I get to the front of the line, that is.
Still, my hand fiddles nervously in the inside pocket of my cloak, rubbing the necklace’s chain between my thumb and forefinger, even though I’m careful not to touch the vial itself. A dozen scenarios have played out in my mind regarding how this could go once the Twelve Guardians realize what I have.
They could hear my case and let me go. They could keep me for questioning. They could inflict various types of punishments on me. They could throw me over the Wall—probably the worst option, since then I’d have to come face to face with the very Monster who put me in this position in the first place.
And I doubt I’d actually survive that fall, anyway. Not like how I did in my dream.
