The Celestial Kiss Read online

  If I were going to leave, now was the time to do it. If I’d learned anything the night before it was that life was fleeting. When I’d thought he was going to shoot me, I had gotten a good glimpse of my rapidly vanishing life. My own mortality loomed over me like a dark cloud.

  But really, what did I have to look forward to beyond these walls, anyways? Xian was a part of my past, and I would spend the rest of my life here, or even in the dungeon if that would keep me from having to see him again.

  Perhaps it was odd, but I’d rather stay where I was comfortable, than go out and test the waters. What if I left, only to find myself in more trouble? Gabrielle had enticed me to run away by offering things I couldn’t have at my father’s home…sleeping under the stars, visiting the beach, walking through the city streets. I’d already crossed two of those off the list, and at least here I had the tentative beginnings of friendships. Even Julius didn’t seem to hate me anymore.

  By the time I finally left my room, it was well after dinner and I was near delirious with hunger. My feet led me to the kitchen, where the few women there seemed to be in the middle of cleaning up. They all looked up the moment I entered, and I felt their surprise for a few heartbeats before Iz came skipping over. “Lilith! You missed dinner. I’ll bet you’re starving. Here, sit.”

  I followed her to a stool that stood against the counter and planted myself upon it, while she began to spoon something from a large pot on the stove into a ceramic bowl. I watched her throw some salt atop it and then Cat came waltzing into the kitchen balancing dishes in the crooks of her arm. She smiled as though we were old friends and dropped the dishes into the sink.

  The stew was not as beautiful or elaborate as my other dinners had been, but it smelled delicious. “Thank you,” My stomach growled gratefully, a reminder that yesterday’s lunch had been cut short before it even began.

  “Of course.” Iz smiled like she had a secret, but it was a warm look. In fact, it struck me as surprisingly maternal.

  I ate in silence while Cat and Iz did the dishes, giggling and splashing water like school girls. My eyes flickered over everything, unashamed, taking in the large kitchen with its immaculate granite counters and gleaming appliances. The other women in the room bustled off, but Iz and Cat lingered. I didn’t care to focus on what they had to say; they were far too casual. Did they not know that their king was hurt?

  I’d just set the spoon down when Iz rushed over. “Would you like some more?” When I shook my head no, she scooped the bowl up, considering me. “You’re so skinny.” She clucked. “How are you feeling?” She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead.

  I ducked away from her on instinct, and then ventured a look at her sympathetic frown. Cat was watching with a small, expectant smile. “What?”

  “I don’t mean to pry,” She explained, “I just thought you might like to talk.”

  “About what?” It wasn’t meant to sound at all as defensive as it came out, but her eagerness to help was disarming. I’d met her not even three days ago, and already she was fawning over me. I didn’t trust it any more than I understood it.

  “Anything. I know it can’t be easy, any of this.” Her voice dropped as she leaned into me. “I remember when Jocelyn went through it. She was terrified, not that she’d ever have let anyone see it.”

  “Jocelyn?” I repeated dumbly. “You mean this has happened before?”

  “It’s not a pleasant story.” She pressed her lips tightly together, shaking her head. “In fact, I’d rather not think much about it. But I’d be more than willing to help, in any way I can. I’ve heard of some herbs that could ease the pain, although I suspect James is already taking care of that.”

  I stared, dumbfounded, and tried to grapple with her words. From our entire exchange, I had gleaned only one thing: James had lied to me. I had (very sarcastically) asked if it was a habit of theirs to take in victims, and he had made it seem as though I had been a fluke…an accident. But there had been another. A girl named Jocelyn, and she’d been through the same thing as me. Clearly, it hadn’t ended well.

  Iz was still talking when I emerged from my thoughts, but it may as well have been white noise for all I heard of it. “Thank you for dinner.” I managed, despite the disgust that coiled in my stomach. Before she even had a chance to respond, I was gone.

  Though I had decided again that I hated James, my heart leapt when I finally heard the knock on my door. I held my jaw tight, clenching my teeth around my anger as I waited for him to enter, but was surprised instead to see Janna let herself in. I hadn’t even gotten over the whole thing with Katie and I was going to take my anger out on her, until I saw her tear streaked face and realized that she was wearing the same clothes that she’d been in when I last saw her.

  “Janna?” I ventured, unable to keep the fear from seeping into my voice. I was expecting the worst, and yet a sliver of hope within me suggested that perhaps the worst had yet to come.

  Her face was unnaturally pale, made even more prominent by her red-rimmed eyes. Just a look at her had my heart dropping into my stomach. “He’s gone.” She said on a sniffle.

  A chill fell on me. Just like that, my anger was gone, replaced by a hole in my stomach.

  She took a ragged breath. “It just happened.” A new line of tears made its way down her cheek, gleaming silver in the iridescent light that slipped through the window. “We wanted you to hear it from us…”

  I stepped aside, groping for words, and Janna allowed herself into the room. She curled into herself at the window seat without a word and looked around, as though she were remembering something she desperately missed. My vocabulary had become inaccessible, and staring at her felt invasive, so I took a seat next to her.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked up at me through watery, bloodshot eyes. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Her sniffles sounded an awful lot like my heart breaking. “Are you ok?” It was a stupid question—as soon as it left my mouth I wished I could take it back to save myself the embarrassment.

  “We knew this was coming, Lilith.” Janna’s voice was strong at first, but wavered with her next words. “He was sick...”

  I watched her, awkward. I’d never had to be the rock or provide emotional stability. Where I came from, I was the only one who had been cursed with emotional depth, and even then there had been nobody who could offer me any sort of comfort. I’d always just mourned in secret or internalized my pain; the role of the sympathizer was foreign to me. But I could imagine what a normal person would do, and so I sat gingerly at her side. Janna didn’t as much as look up. Tentatively, I placed a hand on her shoulder. This drew her attention.

  “I can’t go through this again,” She whispered.

  “I know it’s hard,” I offered, even though I didn’t. My own father had refused to take me back in, and although I hadn’t expected any less of him, it was hard to imagine feeling this grief over my own father’s death. Then again, when your father was immortal, the notion of death seemed silly to dwell on. “But you’re strong. You will get through this.”

  “What if I don’t?” She moaned, tucking her head into her shoulder, as though the energy to keep it upright had been depleted of her.

  “You will. You have your family, and you will get through this together.”

  Janna shook her head. “My family?” A laugh escaped her, but it was not the sweet sound I anticipated from her. Instead, it was full of doubt. “I’ve seen what grief does to them, Lilith. I don’t know if we can survive this.”

  “Of course you can.” I said again, and this time I truly meant it. “You have each other, and that is what is important.”

  “You don’t understand,” Janna shook her head, her breath hinging on a sob. “Julius almost killed himself, and James...he just shuts down. My mother...she’s in denial. I have no one.”

  “You have me.” I tried to sound hopeful, like I could really help. Some consolation prize. I bit my lip, willing words of comfort
to come to me, but after a few moments of silence, I said the first thing that came to mind. “I never knew my mother.” My voice cracked against protesting vocal chords. Even my body knew this was something I never brought up. Why would I want to remember a woman so callous she could abandon her own child? Janna didn’t need to know that part, though, which was just as well since I didn’t want to admit that I’d not been good enough for her. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I guess I did… she died when I was two. But I don’t remember her.” I felt Janna’s eyes turn on me, but I kept my gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My father killed her.”

  It felt wrong to talk about this. I’d never talked about it with anybody except Xian, and all he’d managed to do was dismiss my concerns as foolish. He always hated when I tried to get him to talk about the past, or even when I mentioned it.

  “It was supposedly an accident.” I continued. “I know that there’s no way I could possibly remember, but I swear sometimes I can see her tumbling down the steps, and the blood at the bottom. They all jumped at the smell.” I fell silent, thinking that maybe this had been an inappropriate thing to bring up. The irony of that imagery did not go unnoticed. But Janna offered up no words either, and so I kept talking. “I don’t know if he meant to do it, but even if she’d been alive, we’d never have what you do. Not every family loves each other,” I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the shooting pains that coursed through my shoulder unannounced. I wondered if it was my heart, pining for what I’d never had, or more likely just James’ hold over me making itself remembered. “And even some of the ones that do can’t hold a candle to what you’ve got. Your family is stronger than you think. Don’t underestimate that.”

  Janna was fixing me with a compassionate look, but she still had nothing to say. So I kept talking, because the silence was too raw and unbearable for me. “Before I ran away, one of my sisters came to me and told me she couldn’t take it anymore. She’d abandoned her family to come live with us and realized it was a mistake. And for reasons I still don’t understand, she wanted me to leave with her. I don’t know why, but I agreed. Somehow Xian found out and he told my father. But he left out my part in the plan and pinned it on somebody else…a man who had been with us since I was a child.” I exhaled sharply. The memory hurt. I hadn’t realized how much.

  “What happened?” Janna prodded.

  “Father commanded that I kill him.” I paused, hating the words, hating that my father would even expect something like that from me. “I wouldn’t do it. So Xian killed them. He literally ripped their hearts out, but even in her last moments, my sister was concerned for her family...her son. She gave me this…”

  I grabbed the paper from my pocket and smoothed it. Every day I picked it up off the dresser and placed it back in my pocket, though even I didn’t know why. Because it felt too important, perhaps, to leave there where anybody could see it. Because I may change my mind at any moment and decide to leave without looking back. Or maybe because it was one of two meager possessions I still had. Regardless, the page with Samuel’s name on it had become something significant to me. Janna skimmed over the page, without noticing the script that had been added to it. “Robert Frost.” She said. She looked to me, as though expecting some kind of answer. But I had none.

  “I assume this meant something important to her.” I shrugged. “I’ll never know what, but she entrusted it to me, and for some reason that makes me feel better.”

  Janna smiled, a crooked little tip of her mouth that wasn’t intended for me. “I’ve always liked his poetry. Did you read this?” She gestured to the page that had shrunk in size, and was covered in smudges. It had been folded up and smoothed out so many times it had become a shriveled little thing.

  “Yes.” I said. “But I’ve never been one for poetry. It seems to me like a thought broken loose and skittering in a million directions.” I shrugged, because as much as the paper meant to me, the words printed thereupon it were essentially worthless. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean.”

  “I don’t think a poet writes with the intentions of having his words analyzed. I think when you feel things on that level, you just know what it means.” My confused look must have spoken volumes, because she straightened. “The very same man who wrote this poem here, also said that ‘to be a poet is a condition, not a profession’. I don’t think even he intended his words to be dissected. If you don’t know what it means to him, you can decide what it means to you.”

  “Which is what?”

  Janna sniffed, and I looked at her for the first time since delving into my past. Her eyes were still red, but they were dry as they skimmed over the type-faced words. “I’ve read these words before…” She mumbled. “But it’s not what you think it is. This isn’t a poem about taking the road less traveled—it’s about having regrets.” I nodded, like it made any sense to me, and she looked up. “That’s the beautiful thing about poetry—it doesn’t tell you how to feel, only that you should.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Janna spent the night with me. We hadn’t planned it that way, but we had a way of sharing the silence when it was necessary and filling it with idle chatter when it wasn’t. She was officially the only person who knew me on such an introspective level, Xian aside. We talked for hours, confessing our souls to each other, and I forgave her for the incident with Katie. This was like having a real sister…we didn’t realize how much time had slipped by until we were both sitting in the bed, exhausted, and giggling about things that weren’t even funny. Janna fell asleep smiling and I let her be, taking the edge of the bed.

  She was gone when I woke up, but it was still breakfast, so I made my way to the dining hall. The passages were more crowded than I’d ever seen them, so much so that it was almost impossible to squeeze through the warm bodies to get where I was going. Surprisingly, they did not all seem to be headed in for a meal…they milled about every which way, like they’d been called here but weren’t certain why.

  “Lilith.” James picked me easily out of the crowd and headed over towards me. It was the first time I’d seen him since his father’s passing. I’d expected him to look like Janna had…red eyes, puffy skin, something. But he looked only like himself…tall, dark, and handsome. And maybe a little more unshaven than usual.

  “James. How are you…” I’d meant to ask how he was feeling, but it was a stupid question so I swallowed what was left of it and managed a smile. “Can we talk?”

  James looked around, smiling at a few passersby. “Now? It’s not really the best time.”

  “No.” I felt silly, but I couldn’t help it. “But maybe soon? I need answers.”

  James sighed, looking over at me. That look caught me off guard. It wasn’t the same I’d come to expect from him. This look was exhausted, worn paper thin and hollow from the toll of the last few days. I would have swallowed my own request even if he hadn’t implored me to. “You deserve answers, Lilith.” He said. “And I will gladly give them to you, but please, not today. Not on the day of my father’s funeral.”

  I was beginning to regret not taking my chance to run. It wouldn’t have been half as bad as anything I’d endured if James hadn’t informed me that I was to be at his side throughout his father’s funeral—as a show of solidarity. He didn’t offer any details, and I didn’t ask until Janna came knocking after breakfast.

  One look at the dress in her hand, and I was ready to back out, literally stepping away from her as though it carried the plague. “I don’t understand why I have to be at his side all night.” I grumbled when she thrust the garment at me. “I mean, no offense, but I’m not part of this...”

  Janna was immaculate in a black dress that tastefully accentuated her athletic build and her hair swept into a jeweled barrette. I, on the other hand, looked like I’d been stuffed into a child’s dress up clothes; the dark dress was too tight and the sleeves tapered off just below my elbows.

  Janna laughed. “Oh yes you are. You are a major part of this. You t
hink everyone out there came just to remember my father? They adored him, of course, but I’m sure a good forty percent of our guests came solely for James’ acceptance of the crown and, subsequently, to meet you. The next couple of days you are going to understand what it’s like to be the queen.”

  I laughed in spite of the ill feeling in my stomach.

  “I’m not joking.” Janna fixed me with a superior look. She seemed to be chiding my attempt at lightheartedness.

  “Well, you can’t be serious.”

  “Of course I am,” she scoffed. “Mother demanded it and so it shall be done.”

  Now I really did feel faint. Part of me still hoped she was joking, but the look in her kohl-lined eyes told me otherwise. My mouth went dry. “Your mother demanded I pretend to be your queen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do I have to?” I asked wearily. “I mean, really, what’s stopping me from walking away?”

  “Duty.” Janna thrust a pair of heeled shoes at me. “We have to maintain the facade.”

  “What facade?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand it, Lilith, because it doesn’t even make sense to me. But the truth can sometimes be more damaging than a lie, and this is one of those times.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Janna moved behind me and fluffed out the hair that she’d set in curls just before. A glance in the mirror affirmed that I looked presentable enough with my makeup done by her skilled hand, but it was her reaction that I was looking for.

  “I’m saying that we can’t let everyone know that James bit you by a mere accident or that you’re neither human nor vampire. We had to…stretch the truth a bit, for everybody’s benefit.”

  “Stretch the truth?” I parroted. “How?”

  “I’ll explain later. Right now, we have guests to greet.”

  I followed Janna from my room where we’d spent the past hour preparing to make good impressions, out to the staircase where just days ago the king had been shot. The memory of that solid, mortal weapon clutched in the man’s hand and the look he’d given me before he turned the gun on the King still haunted me.