Of Beast and Beauty by Stacey Jay Page B

growly or rough about him. He is the perfect gentleman. Gentle-Monstrous.
     
    “We need to get them into the ground,” he continues. “They should be planted while it’s still cold.”
     
    “It will be cold forever.” A part of me believes it. Spring is a promise that nature doesn’t intend to keep.
     
    “It won’t be cold forever.”
     
    “It will. My nose will never be warm again.”
     
    “Good thing blue suits you,” he says, making my lips twitch. “Have you spoken to Junjie?”
     
    “I speak to him every day. Several times a day. Whether I like it or not.”
     
    “You know what I mean.”
     
    I sigh. “I do.” I sit back on my heels and tilt my face up, soaking in what warmth I can from the weak winter light penetrating the dome. Our great shield is made of ancient glass, designed by our ancestors to block the damaging rays of the sun, specially treated to keep the city from growing too hot during the summer or too cold during the winter. Still, the air is chilly in the winter months.
     
    According to Gem, it’s even colder in the desert. If it weren’t for the risk of Monstrous attack, it would be possible for a citizen of Yuan to venture outside the city for a short time without fearing sun damage.
     
    But there is the risk of attack. Gem’s tribe is only one of many. The other tribes—those farther to the east and the south—have left our city in peace until now, but they wouldn’t hesitate to kill a Smooth Skin found wandering their lands. I can’t ask the soldiers to put their lives in danger, and Junjie will never allow Gem through the gate alone. His people have withdrawn deep into the wilds. They’ve left our city alone, as they promised, and Gem is the reason. Junjie won’t risk having our good-luck charm running off into the desert, never to return.
     
    I would agree with him, but I know Gem’s legs aren’t healing as well as we’d hoped. He can’t stand for more than a few hours at a time—hence the slow pace of our ground breaking. He would never make it to his people’s winter camp on foot, but he could make it to the mountains where the bulbs we need grow, and back to the Hill Gate. And he would come back. He doesn’t want to die of starvation in the desert. He’s as committed to living as the people of Yuan.
     
    So committed, he nearly has me convinced that he doesn’t hate me anymore.
     
    Nearly.
     
    I haven’t hated him for a long time. I like how steady he is with his work, how he hums beneath his breath when he hoes, the stories he tells, the jokes he makes about Yuan and our abundance of cabbage, even the way he teases me about my big hands and clumsy feet. I like him . Sadly, aside from Needle, my monster prisoner is the best friend I’ve ever had.
     
    “Isra? The bulbs?”
     
    “Tell me a story,” I say. “Something scary where terrible things happen to bad creatures.”
     
    “If I can’t leave the city, I can’t get the bulbs or seeds we’ll need,”
    Gem says, refusing to play along the way he usually does.
     
    “I know. I’ve known that since we started.” I scratch at my wrist, wincing as paper-thin pieces of myself fall away. My skin is worse than ever.
    The winter never agrees with it, but this winter has been especially brutal.
    Needle washes the skin everywhere but my face and neck twice a day in milk and honey, but still, I’m falling to pieces. “Well …” I force myself to stop scratching with a sigh. “You’ll just have to leave the city, I suppose.”
     
    “When?” There’s hunger in his voice. Is it hunger for escape or simply for a few hours of freedom? I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. In the past two months, my time with Gem has become the bright spot in my day.
    If he were to leave …
     
    “Remember your promise,” I say softly. “You’re to stay here.
    Forever.”
     
    “There’s no such thing as forever,” he says. “And I promised nothing.
    No one speaks for me. Not even my