Page 80 of Immortal Longings
“I—” Calla pauses. In that second, every variation of her idea sounds ludicrous to her ear, each suggestion halting and curdling on her tongue. Sweat gathers at the small of her back, and it only presses more slickly against her shirt with the jostling of the crowd behind her.
Let me keep him,she wants to say.Let me have this one thing.
She can still feel the press of Anton’s lips kissing her goodbye before she left the rooftop. She can feel the twist in her heart, that persistent prodding at the back of her mind when she looked at him, knowing there were only so many ways this could play out. He gazed at her with such abandon, like anything she said would come to fruition by her mere utterance of the words. She isn’t sure she deserves it. If it comes down to it, if their end goal requires sacrificing everything, will she do it?
“I have an alternate proposal to get Kasa off the throne,” Calla settles on saying, swallowing hard. “If I pull out from the games, I can make my hit during the Juedou. He’ll be in the throne room. I just need you to get me in.”
August’s expression furrows.
“That’s entirely unnecessary,” he says. “In fact, it’s seeking trouble where there needs none. Stay with the original plan. Await being crowned victor and make the hit inside the palace.”
While Calla grasps for a suitable reply, a shopper suddenly bumps her arm,distracting her attention. She turns a glare over her shoulder, making eye contact with two girls walking together, both of whom stop dead in their tracks when they sight her. Though Calla thinks little of the encounter and turns back, she’s listening just well enough to hear one whisper, “Isn’t that Fifty-Seven? The one who doesn’t jump?”
Calla whirls around again. The two continue strolling, but it doesn’t stop their conversation, voices wafting over as if the subject of their gossip doesn’t stand a few feet away.
“Who is that with her? Eighty-Six?”
“Maybe. It’s sad they’ll probably end up fighting each other, though.”
The two girls are swallowed by the crowd, disappearing deeper into the market. Calla takes in a shallow breath. Sometimes she forgets that these games are televised—that she lives, even in blurred, pixelated form, on every television set across San-Er for entertainment. While she bleeds and fights and risks her life to get into that palace, the rest of the twin cities see only a game. Either she is good enough to claim victory, or she will die to the sound of their cheering.
“You’re not hearing me,” Calla manages carefully, pushing the words through her teeth when she finally collects her thoughts. “I… I don’t want to kill every player.”
Doesn’t she deservesomethingselfish? Something as Calla—not as a princess, or as player Fifty-Seven. She wants to pose the question aloud, but she already knows August’s answer. Golden, noble Prince August.
He casts her a steady look. With that alone, she knows he has heard exactly what she refuses to say.
“Anton,” he guesses. “You’ve gone soft for Anton.” August folds the newspaper in his hands and sets it down. Mutters, “I thought you were smarter than that, but I suppose I should have pushed you away from him earlier.”
Calla blinks. “Pushed me—” Her outraged echo fades off. Eno’s face flashes in her mind. “It wasyou. You sent people after me.”
Prince August doesn’t bother denying it, nor does he appear to have any shame in admitting to it.
“You were sitting idle for too long. I needed you back on track.”
Eno, ambling after Calla with a shine in his eyes, convinced that she could keep him safe. He could have pulled the chip from his wristband at any moment and walked away from the games. Calla should have yanked off the damn thing and demanded he go find a safe place to sleep, and even if he hated her in that moment, it would have saved his life.
“What logic was going through your tiny brain?” Calla hisses. “Slit my throat and let my floating qi do your dirty work?”
“They wouldn’t have killed you, Calla. You’re too well trained for them. They were mere threats in your path.”
Calla lunges forward and seizes him furiously by the collar, uncaring if she makes a scene. The rest of the market hardly casts a glance over. August, meanwhile, narrows his gaze, tipping his chin toward the palace balcony. It is both a warning and a threat. He might not push her off, but there’s someone waiting in the shadows who will.
“I thought we were in cooperation.” Calla’s fist tightens. “Instead you’retestingme.”
“I’mremindingyou. This isn’t just another year of the games. This is high treason for the throne, and you’re gallivanting around like it’s no life-or-death matter. Remember what we are working for. Your resolve cannot falter.”
How dare he speak of her resolve. She wants to strike his cheek, feel her knuckles make sickening contact with bone. If she doesn’t release her cousin in the next second, Galipei will come charging down, and then there will really be trouble. Calla almost welcomes it. Let a fight begin, and she can explodeoutward, draw the attention of the entire fucking twin cities. Set destruction upon everything in her path, level San-Er’s buildings until she is surrounded by rubble, and maybe then the kingdom will finally build anew without the misery that their every selfish ruler has given them.
But Calla releases August’s collar slowly, lowering her arms back to her sides and tamping down her rage. Not now. Not yet. August smooths his shirt, looking nonchalant.
“I will see King Kasa dead if it’s the last thing I do,” she manages evenly. If it weren’t for the twitch in her jaw, it would be impossible to know what seethes inside her at that moment. She knows August sees it; he pretends not to.
“Good. Then you’ll also accept my reminder, I hope, that we are to depose Kasa by whatever means necessary. And that includes following the plan with the highest chance of success. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Calla turns toward the palace. She traces her sight along the top of the coliseum walls and wonders how quickly someone could climb them.
“Do not mistake my tolerance for weakness, August,” she says quietly. “Do not forget who you’re talking to. You’ve gotten used to ordering people around, I know. Day in and day out, they must heed what you say, because you are the crown prince, and they cannot offend such a man.” Her eyes flicker back to him. “But I am Calla Tuoleimi.” The lie no longer feels like a lie. “I am a princess who sacrificed my own throne for this kingdom. You do not order me around.”
