One particular girl caught my attention as her hips rocked in perfect rhythm to the song pulsating through the air. A blue spotlight shone down upon her, making her skin glow an unnatural shade of sapphire. The beads she wore were strung from a slender collar clasped around her neck and draped to a belt that was slung loosely around her hips. When she swayed, the beads clattered together, moving, shifting, parting. Just like every other girl up on the stages, the beads covered almost nothing, but I was certain that was the point.
Her long legs were willowy and graceful, as if she’d been trained to perform in this manner. And she probably had been. The outcasts lived a different lifestyle from everyone else, doing jobs that were considered objectionable to those living within the class system.
Dancing would definitely fall into that category. Especially the kind of dancing that this girl did.
I watched her for several long moments, admiring the freedom she had up there, on that stage. A vendor’s daughter would never be permitted to perform for a living.
“I’m glad you decided to come.” The deep voice rumbled from behind me, interrupting my musings.
I spun around, my eyes wide, embarrassed to be caught staring at the dancers.
“Do I know you?” I asked, but I realized immediately that I did. I’d seen him before. “From the restaurant,” I amended. “You were there tonight.”
Strong black brows drew together as he watched me, his expression unreadable. I felt like I was being inspected, but in an entirely different way from the bouncer at the front door. Something dark and unrecognizable tangled in the pit of my stomach, something uncertain.
He was larger than I’d remembered, entirely too large for the crowded space in which we stood, making me feel childlike and small. He took up far too much room, breathed far too much air.
The skin at the nape of my neck tightened, my head clearing instantly as the drug that had been bleeding through my system evaporated in a blink. In fact, all of my senses were heightened as my eyes remained fastened on his.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be h B7;t 17;d be ere tonight.” His voice was low—almost hushed—despite the loud music pounding around us.
“Yeah, me either. I wasn’t sure I’d be anywhere tonight,” I shot back.
He raised one brow uncertainly. “Is this a bad time? If you’d rather be alone, I’ll go.”
I could feel the restless crowd around us. If I’d really wanted to be alone, Prey would be the last place I’d be. But I suddenly felt trapped by his cool, flint-colored eyes. They were disquieting in a way I didn’t understand. My breath lodged in my throat, and I had the strangest feeling that I should look away from him. Yet I was captivated.
“It’s—it’s okay,” I finally managed, and that tangle knotted deeper, taut threads of hesitant emotions. The feeling that he was to be avoided deepened.
He frowned, but his lips quirked. “Good, because it was an empty offer. I had every intention of staying. I’m Max.” His smile grew, and I could tell, too, that he was teasing me. I wished in that moment that I could be more like Brook. I wished that I was more confident around boys. He held his hand out to me.
When I didn’t take it, he drew it back and rubbed it along his jaw, a nothing of a gesture, yet I couldn’t help noting that he was almost too graceful when he moved.
There was a long silence as the music changed. I knew I should tell him my name, but instead I turned my gaze away from him, feigning interest in the dancers on the stage above us. The truth was, though, all I really noticed was him, stealing surreptitious glances whenever I could. His clothing was finer than anything I’d ever seen before—even the silk Aron had given me—and without meaning to, my fingers inched up, straining to stroke the rich fabric of his jacket. Just once.
I caught myself in time, dropping my hand back to my side and jerking my chin up a notch, thankful that I’d stopped myself before actually touching him, before making a fool of myself. It was then that I saw him smiling at me, for me, and my heart stopped.
I turned to look at him. The hard planes of his face softened, and suddenly he was dangerously boyish. And beautiful. Far too beautiful. And, like the fabric of his coat, my fingers itched to touch him . . . to rake through his short, dark hair, to feel his smooth-shaven jaw, to trace my thumb across his full lower lip.
I jolted. What was I thinking? Maybe I was too much like Brooklynn!
“I—I changed my mind. I think I should go.” I fumbled over my words as I stepped backward . . . first one awkward step, and then another.
Max frowned, reaching out to stop me. “Wait. Don’t leave.” I could feel the warmth—and the strength—of his fingertips seeping through the simple dress I wore, and I suddenly wished that I’d let Brooklynn talk me into borrowing one of hers. They weren’t any newer, but the fabrics were richer. And infinitely more revealing. I wondered what his touch would feel like against my bare skin.
I lifted my eyes to his, marveling at his thick fringe of dark lashes, and once more was unnerved by the sensation that I shouldn’t do that, that I was meant to look away. I reminded myself that here—in the Blf t12;in th club—class bore no distinction. Even if it was only an illusion.
But that thought emboldened me, and I let a half smile find my lips as I tipped my head to the side. “Why would you care if I go?”
I was rewarded by a grin even as he released my arm. It was a fair exchange. “I was hoping you might at least tell me your name. It’s the least you could do, since I came here to see you.” His eyebrow lifted, and my pulse quickened.
I shook my head, certain he was still teasing me. Surely it was Brooklynn he’d meant to meet up with. But I decided to play along. “So what’s the deal, do you have a thing for the underdog best friend? Or was it the fact that I nearly got myself sent to the gallows that attracted you?”
A troubled look crossed Max’s face, and I realized that, like Brooklynn, he wasn’t amused by the predicament I’d gotten myself into with the Counsel girl. But his next words had nothing to do with what he’d overheard at the restaurant. “Do you not realize how beautiful you are?” he asked, leaning closer.
My face grew warm, and then hot.
I heard Brooklynn then, her voice rising above all else, even the music. Her laughter was musical and throaty, and just the thing to break the spell I was under. I turned to find her, searching the crowd, and spotting her glossy black curls easily.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I explained, but only as an afterthought, and only over my shoulder. I pushed my way forward, moving through hands and arms as I eased my way through the supple, shifting crowd to get to Brook.
And away from the unfamiliar feelings that besieged me.
When I finally saw Brooklynn, standing atop one of the raised platforms that overlooked the dance floor, she was crushed between the other two men from the restaurant, the ones who’d told her about Prey in the first place. They were even taller than their friend Max, and beside Brook’s petite frame, they made her appear miniature. A lovely, fragile doll.
I hesitated for just a moment. I wasn’t easily intimidated, but there was something about these two, something that gave me pause.
Brook’s head was tilted back, her face lit up with laughter as she gazed adoringly at the dark-skinned man by her side. She was allure and promise in one seductive bundle. But it was the other man who drew my attention, the one with lighter skin, a shaved head, and sharp green eyes. He was just as tall as his friend, and equally muscular; the silver buttons of his black shirt strained across his broad chest. He leaned down, closer to Brooklynn, while her attention was diverted, lifting one of her dark curls to his face. And then he inhaled, breathing it in.
Smelling her.
“Charlie!” Brooklynn called when she saw me, waving eagerly and signaling me to join them. “You remember my friends, from the restaurant?” It was her way of introducing me to the men on either side of her.
Goose bumps prickled my arms: a visceral warni
ng.
I reached for her hand. “We have to go,” I urged, trying to draw her away.
But Brooklynn pulled h Bm">B pulled er hand from mine, clutching it to her chest as if I’d just burned her. “Stop, Charlie. I’m not ready to go yet.”
I recognized her tone, I’d heard it countless times before. She had no intention of leaving.
Frustrated, and unsure how to convince her, I struggled to come up with an excuse, but Brooklynn demanded my attention.
“Come on, Charlie. Check it out, these two have the best accents ever. Listen!” She turned to the man who had, just seconds earlier, smelled her. “Show her. Say something,” she commanded sweetly.
Before I could tell him that I wasn’t interested, the man accommodated Brooklynn’s request. But he didn’t speak in Englaise. His language was thick and gravelly.
In all my life, I’d never heard anything like it.
The world shivered around me in protest.
His language was strange, and the inflection of his voice was heavy and rough-edged, but the meaning of his words was crystal clear.
I heard what Brooklynn never would:
“This childish beauty smells delicious.”
The two men smiled knowingly at each other and my apprehension deepened, but not because of what he’d said.
This time, when I grabbed Brooklynn’s wrist, I didn’t let go. I felt better just having my hands on her.
I shot a nervous glance in the direction of the man who had made my skin itch, but it wasn’t what he’d said, it was how he’d said it. I spoke quietly to Brook, tugging on her arm. “We have to go. I’m not feeling well.” It wasn’t entirely a lie; my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Nooo!” Her voice was loud and petulant. “Let’s stay. I want to dance with . . .” She stopped, perplexed. “What was your name again?”
“Claude.” His deep voice distorted the word, so that even though he pronounced it in Englaise, it came out sounding like he’d said Cloud.
Brooklynn giggled. “Cloud. I want to dance with Cloud.”
Claude watched her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss a thing.
“Brook,” I insisted, looking only at her. “You promised.”
Brooklynn chewed on her red lip, her black brows pulled together in a delicate frown. “But we just got here. What if I don’t see him again?” She pouted for Claude’s benefit when she said this.
His lips parted, a patient smile, his green eyes practically glowing. His smile would have been fine, maybe even nice, at any other time, on any other person. But when he spoke again, the air around me trembled in sweltering waves.
Again, his words were like nothing I’d ever heard, yet I understood them perfectly:
“I’ll be watching for you, my lovely.”
The second man Bh="1nd manÙs dark brown eyes crinkled at Claude’s statement, and he added, “She’d be hard to miss.”
I blinked, afraid my face would betray me after hearing those strange words. Words I knew I was never meant to understand.
I jerked Brooklynn’s arm. “No!” I shouted, no longer caring that I was drawing the attention of others in the club. And then I grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “We have to leave, Brook. You promised,” I begged through gritted teeth.
Brooklynn frowned at me, but her shoulders slumped, accepting her fate.
“I’m sorry,” she sulked as she turned to Claude. “Will you save me a dance? For next time?”
A meaningful smile played across his lips. He leaned down and whispered something in Brooklynn’s ear.
While Claude held her attention, I realized that Max had followed me onto the platform. I had no idea how long he’d been listening.
He stood just a few feet away, too close, watching me intently and wearing a new expression now: curiosity.
It wasn’t a look I cared to attract.
I told myself that I’d only imagined it. That there was no way he could know, or even suspect, that I’d recognized the meaning behind his friend’s strange words.
I glanced back to Brooklynn as she tucked a silken black tendril of her hair behind her ear. She nodded at Claude and grinned wickedly. No doubt she’
d understood “Cloud” perfectly that time.
But already I was pulling her, dragging her away from the enormous men and their mysterious language. And away from the suffocating dread that bore down on me.
MAX
The barracks were never fully silent, even in the dead of night. Around him, Max could hear the rustle of bedding, the bark of an unrelenting cough, and the hushed voices of a faraway conversation.
He lay in his bunk, as still as he could, pretending to be asleep despite the fact that he was nowhere near it. He didn’t try to keep the girl from his thoughts, but he didn’t want to share those thoughts with the others. Better to feign sleep. Better to avoid questions from those around him, those who kept him under constant watch.
It would be easier if he were alone. If he were ever truly alone.
But this was the life he’d chosen, and alone was no longer an option, so he’d have to settle for stolen moments in the blackest part of the night, hiding in plain sight.
Clear blue eyes stared back from inside his own memories, eyes he wished he’d never seen in the first place. Yet eyes he hoped to glimpse again. Soon.
She would be trouble, this one; the fact that he was lying awake now was proof of that. Just a few words exchanged, a smile, scant minutes spent together at the club, and already he was tortured and restless.
He replayed those last moments, after he’d followed her in the club, whe Bowednd manemories, en he’d watched as she’d listened to her friend’s flirtatious banter. He recognized the moment immediately, it would have been impossible not to notice it; her eyes going wide, her voice trembling, her conviction shattered.
She wasn’t as strong as she wanted to be
.
He worried for her, even though she was safe for now—probably at home, probably with her family, asleep in her own bed.
Unaware of the torment she’d already unleashed in him.
IV
Brooklynn had refused to speak to or even look at me on the walk home, no matter how many times I’d tried to apologize. If I could have explained why I’d insisted on leaving, she might have forgiven me, but I couldn’t. No one, not even my best friend in the world, was allowed to know what I could do . . . that I could understand everything I heard.
By the time we were nearing our neighborhood on the west side of the city—the vendors’ part of town—I’d decided it would be better if I just stayed at my house. My parents would know that I’d been out instead of at Brook’s, but with her silent glare aimed directly at the street ahead of her, she’d made it more than clear that she wasn’t going to forgive me. Not that night anyway.
But I wasn’t sorry for making her leave. Even the next morning, in the light of a new day, I was certain I’d done the right thing.
I’d heard Claude when he spoke last night, and there was something wrong with it. . . .
Why had I never heard his language before? How was that possible? With the threat of the revolution drawing interest from outside countries—countries hoping to prey on the fact that our defenses were weak, hoping to take advantage of a queen in peril—Ludania’s borders had been closed off, and all foreign visitors had been forced to leave. No more tourist Passports were being issued.
Yet I had heard all the regional variations of Termani, Parshon, and Englaise; I knew all their intonations, their cadences, their rhythms. Or so I’d believed. Until now.
Now I’d heard something new.
But why was I so certain that I was never meant to hear this language in the first place?
I couldn’t help wondering who Claude and his friend were. Spies? Revolutionaries speaking in code? Something worse?
Those questions, and the strange sounds of this new language, had haunted me far into the night, chasing me into sleep and mak
ing me restless.
Other things had kept me awake too, and occupied my thoughts, things I had no business thinking about. Dark gray eyes, soft lips, a brash smile.
I tried to tell myself it was foolish to entertain such notions, but every time I forced him out, he found his way back in again.
The next morning I was relieved when I saw Brooklynn waiting in our usual spot in the plaza before school. I nearly smiled, until I realized that she was pretending not to notice me. Aron wasn’t there yet; it was only the two of us. I approached warily, uncertain how to deal with last Cal `g Inight.
“Hi,” I offered apprehensively, wishing I had something better to start off with.
Brook kept her arms crossed over her chest, her book bag lying crookedly at her feet. Yet even with her defiant stance, I knew she must be wavering. Why else would she have come?
She turned her cheek, still refusing to acknowledge my presence.
“Fine,” I said with a sigh, realizing I would have to make the first move and hating the bitter taste of apology on my tongue. “Brooklynn, I’m sorry. I know you liked that—that Claude guy.” I purposely said his name like “Cloud,” hoping to crack her cast-iron shell. But I got nothing as she continued to glare skyward. “I can’t explain it, I just can’t,” I tried. “There was something . . . strange about them. Something I didn’t trust.” It was as clear as I could be, but at least her foot was tapping now. She was listening to me, and that was a start. “You know I wouldn’t have asked you to leave if I wasn’t worried. . . .” I paused, trying to think what more I could possibly say.
Brooklynn turned to me then, a concerned frown taking the place of her unrelenting glower. She thought for a moment, and when she finally spoke, I wished we could go back in time. The silent treatment was easier than the truth. “It wasn’t about the guy, Charlie. It was about you. Something happened last night, and not just at the club, at the restaurant, too. You’re the one who’s acting strange. . . .” Her voice dropped to a discreet whisper as she closed the gap between us, standing so close now that no one could possibly overhear. “You’re the one who’s going around breaking the law. And don’t fool yourself, I saw what you did at school yesterday, when you gave that boy a cookie. It’s dangerous. The deadly sort of dangerous.” Her mouth became a firm line as she nearly pressed her cheek to mine then, her voice almost inaudible. “I’m your friend, Charlie. If there’s something you want to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll keep your secrets. But you need to be more careful. For the sake of everyone around you.”