Burning Kingdoms. Lauren DeStefano

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      “We had no choice,” I say quietly. “We were fugitives.” I stare at the floor; it appears to be made of some kind of fabric cut out into a giant oval, and it’s so plush that I can see traces of our footprints in it. Even the floors are different. I fear what will await us when the sun melts away that blanket of snow. “What Pen said is true. We can’t ever go back.”

      “You can’t, maybe,” Celeste says to me, “but I’ll have to return. Of course I will.”

      Pen laughs cruelly.

      Celeste raises her chin.

      “We should change,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think of that should come next. We’ll find new clothes. We’ll start learning to adapt. No matter how impossible it seems.

      There’s a wooden screen that divides off a portion of the room. Pen and I hide behind it and change into the dresses we’ve selected from the closet. On the hangers are the most exquisite dresses I’ve ever seen—all tiers and flowers and lace. Pen helps with the buttons at my wrists, and she straightens the lace at my collarbones. And while we’re facing each other, her mouth purses. She shields her eyes with her quaking hand. “Oh, Morgan,” she whispers.

      I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “I know.” We’re both as good as orphaned now. My parents are in the tributary, but she’ll never see hers again whether they’re living or not.

      “We can’t cry,” she says firmly.

      “No. Strength, remember?”

      She nods, draws back, and pulls my hair in front of my shoulders.

      I pinch her cheek, and she smiles.

      From beyond the screen, Celeste clears her throat. “What sort of woman wore these dresses, do you think?” she says.

      Pen growls.

      “And what do you think they call this fabric?” Celeste goes on.

      “Maybe they belong to Mrs. Piper,” I say.

      “He didn’t mention a wife at all, did he?” Celeste says.

      I step out from behind the screen, and Pen follows. “Maybe they don’t have wives here,” Pen says. “Maybe the women just come around to lay eggs and then they leave.”

      I can’t help laughing. “Be careful what you say,” Celeste says, but she’s laughing too.

      “I’m quite serious,” Pen says, assessing her reflection in the oval mirror that hangs wreathed in dry flowers. “What kind of woman could birth five children? Can you imagine? It isn’t human.”

      “It would be rude to ask,” I say. “We’ll have to look for a ring.”

      “He had a ring,” Celeste says. “A metal one. It was the same shade of gold as the curtains downstairs. Gold is an odd choice for a wedding ring, isn’t it?”

      “We can’t ask,” I repeat firmly. “If we were to offend our host, we could well be tossed out into the snow, and then what?”

      Pen walks around me, dragging her finger through my hair so it rises and falls. It’s so straight that it falls immediately back into formation. “What if he killed his wife? What if we’re next?” Pen says.

      “Are you always so grim?” Celeste says.

      A knock at the door silences our chatter. I loop my arm around Pen’s.

      “Excuse me.” It’s one of the children. A girl. “Dinner is being served downstairs.”

      The thought of food nauseates me. For just a moment, I nearly forgot the magnitude of this ordeal, but that strange affectation in the child’s voice has reminded me.

      “Thank you,” Celeste says sweetly.

      “Should we try to eat any of it?” Pen whispers into my ear. “What if it’s poisoned?”

      I’m not eager to relive the experience of the poisoned sweetgold. “We should at least pretend to,” I say.

      “Let’s let Her Highness eat it and see if she survives.”

      Celeste, who is fixing her braided crown, pauses to glare at us in the mirror.

      Jack Piper is a man who strives for order; that much is clear. His children do all things in order of height, which includes taking their places at the largest dinner table I’ve ever seen. He gives them a nod, and they shake open their folded napkins and lay them in their laps.

      “I have to compliment you on your gold curtains,” Celeste says. “We don’t see much gold fabric back home.”

      Back home. What a notion.

      Riles’s snorting laugh says he think we’re the strangest things alive. “You don’t have gold fabric?” he says.

      “What else don’t you have?” one of the younger girls asks.

      “Don’t be brats,” Nimble tells them.

      “Yes, gold is popular down here,” Jack says. “It’s a precious metal.”

      I’ve never thought of any one metal as being more special than the next. They all come in handy for something or other.

      “Do you have ham?” the smallest one, Annette, asks. She isn’t teasing; she really wants to know. “Because that’s what’s for dinner.”

      “I don’t think so,” Celeste says. She doesn’t seem to mind speaking on behalf of us all. “What is it?”

      “It’s from a pig,” Annette says. She presses her nose upward with her finger and makes a snorting sound.

      “We don’t have those,” Pen says, speaking before the princess can get in another word. “And we don’t eat animals very often. Only on special occasions.”

      Annette looks at her like she’s never heard such a thing.

      “That’s enough inquisition,” Jack says. “Our guests have come a long way and they’ve earned an evening of relaxation. There will be plenty of time for all of us to get acquainted.”

      Lex and Alice are missing from the table, as are Judas and Amy. I look through the doorway, and all I see are infinite doors, and a staircase that leads to even more of them.

      A fireplace is crackling. I can feel the warmth of it from the next room. It’s an effective enough way to stay warm, but most of the buildings on Internment have been outfitted with electric heat in the past decade, thanks to the sun’s energy being harnessed by the glasslands. I’d thought the ground would be much more advanced than we are, given that we borrow so many of their ideas through our scopes, but we seem to be on par, if not a bit ahead.

      One thing the ground does have is space. A house practically the size of a whole section of Internment, and as many children to a family as they please. Dozens of windows and СКАЧАТЬ