Page 37 of Xantera
Me,Lucan says.
Yes. You.
Even as I say it, a sheepish blush warms up my cheeks. The more I think about it, the more it all seems rather disproportionate. If the Wall is as strong as they say it is, it should keep the Monster out regardless of whether the Guardians get blood from their Chosen Ones. And while the Monster hasn’t actually bitten into anyone in living memory, the Guardians bite into someone new every blood moon.
That’s because unlike the parasites who stole my throne,Iwould only bite you if it would bring you pleasure,Lucan growls.Not to take your very source of life.
I jolt in bed, and not just because of what he said about biting.
Yourthrone?
Yes, my throne, Saskia.Possessiveness slides into Lucan’s voice, gripping my mind like a vice.It was not a human who ruled the kingdom from that palace before the Guardians—it was what you’d call a Monster. Only back then, his people didn’t fear him like you do me. Back then, they called him king.
Chills filter down my spine as if the Monster is howling. But it’s quiet outside my window, because the Monster is in my head, listening to my thoughts spin as loudly as my own heartbeat.
King, I repeat and lower my head onto my pillow.
Like jewelry, the word is only vaguely familiar, as if I learned it once long ago and never heard of it again. But yes,kingwas the word that Miss Dolores used to describe the figurehead ofthe Dark Days. I just never imagined that king was anything like Lucan—not lazy or greedy, but full of intelligence and rage.
Back then,Lucan continued,we had a wall made of wood surrounding the kingdom, not to keep out actual Monsters, but to keep out the wild animals of the forest—cougars and bears and… wolves.He pauses on that last word, but keeps going before I can question why.There were no Choosings or Chosen Ones because my grandfather didn’t need to take anything away from anyone else to rule. It was a flourishing kingdom, and people were happy. There wasn’t any suffering.
His grandfather? It’s a good thing I’m already lying down in bed, because I feel faint. If his grandfather was the king from five hundred years ago, then that would make him…
A wicked laugh.For simplicity’s sake, let’s say I’m twenty-five. That would be about the human equivalent. But I’ve been circling this wretched Wall for a lot longer than that.
My head spins harder. If Lucan is telling the truth, then that means everything we’ve ever learned about the Monster is a lie. He doesn’t prowl around Xantera because he’s starved for meat and bone; he does so because it’s his lost kingdom. Or, at least, hisancestor’slost kingdom.
Exactly,he growls now.When the Guardians came, my grandfather was ripped away from his people and forced to watch as they turned our wall of wood into stone. Then he was killed, and my father and his family were forced to flee outside the Wall while the Guardians kept everyone else on the inside like cattle to be bred and slaughtered. And when my father died, he passed it down to me: the mission to tear down the Wall so we can take back our throne and vanquish therealMonsters.
The real Monsters as inthem. The Twelve Guardians.
I massage the bridge of my nose where my freckles are, not knowing what to believe.
On the one hand, part of Lucan’s story clicks into place in my brain, filling in the gaps I’ve been taught never to peer too closelyat. On the other, I can’t forget that I’m talking to theMonster—at least the kind I’ve always known.Whatever he is, he’s not human, and he could be lying to me, spinning a story to get me on his side so that I’ll do his bidding. Perhaps to lure me closer to him.
Clever woman, Lucan says, his tone a mixture of appreciation and impatience.Not believing what you’re told immediately. I’m surprised they ever managed to beat all that curiosity and suspicion out of you.
They didn’t beat anything out of me,I snap back, for some reason irked that his praise sends tingles down my belly.There is no violence here. We aren’t being slaughtered like you think we are.
There is no violencethat you see,Lucan corrects.There is no slaughteringthat you know of.
I think I’d know if my own neighbors were being killed.
What about the Chosen Ones, then?he retorts immediately.They cease to be your neighbors as soon as they’re dragged into that palace. I caughtthatmuch from my limited connection with Diggory.
The Chosen Ones are given a lifetime of comfort and ease until the day they pass of old age,I force out, although the words sound regurgitated even to my own ears.They only sacrifice their blood so that the Guardians can continue to protect us, and it isn’t painful.
Oh yeah?I can practicallyfeelLucan’s angry smirk.Then why do the Chosen Ones stop coming to the balcony after a few years? Why does Diggory think his daughter is dead?
The words slam into my chest and stop my heart in its racing track. After all this time of suppressing that secret curled against my heart, it’s threatening to rise to the surface once again. Tears spring in my eyes, and I grit my teeth in an attempt to smother the secret before Lucan can sense it and use it against me.
What do you want from me, Monster?
I feel him wince at the name, but I don’t care. I need him to get to the point, because as much as I’d love to think otherwise, I know his attention must have a deeper purpose. He can call me beautiful all he wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a means toan end for him. Diggory couldn’t give him what he needs, so he’s turned his sights to the next person who picked up the necklace. Me.
A quick spark of emotions flares through our connection, but it’s gone too quickly for me to catch hold of it. Whatever Lucan feels in response to those thoughts of mine, he’s able to suppress it with ease.
Only someone from the inside can open the Wall,he croons, and then his howl erupts from outside my window.
