Jala's Mask Read Online Free Page A

don’t think I understand. You’re the king,” Jala said. “You can marry whoever you want. Your brother would have.”
    â€œI wish he could,” the king said. “Then I really could do what I want and go out there.” He waved at the beach and the Great Ocean beyond. “I want to sail home with ships full of silk and dyes and wine. I want to drink with my friends on the beach and visit Ko—” He stopped himself and shook his head. “If I had what I wanted, Jin would still be here. Dead sails,” he cursed, leaning back against the wall and staring out over the water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things so sad and serious. I just thought we could talk some, and maybe I’d steal a kiss before we went inside again. It’s been a long month.”
    â€œYou don’t want to be king?” Jala asked. She’d wanted to be queen all her life. Ever since the first time her mother had said, You might be queen someday , in a voice tinged with hope and fear and expectation, she had wanted it.
    â€œI did when I was younger,” the king said, “but I always knew what the cost would have to be. Anyway, younger brothers in line for the throne aren’t encouraged to want it too much.”
    Jala wasn’t sure she should press him, but she did anyway. If they parted ways after tonight, she might never be alone with a king’s full attention again. “Do you miss him?”
    The king shrugged. “I guess. I missed him long before he died. I was on a ship while he was off with my father, learning how to be a good king. Sometimes I think maybe I should have been the one that died. I almost did, when some merchant’s wife gave me this scar for trying to take her rings. Meanwhile he scratches himself with a rusted sword, and I’m the one that lives?” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. Things are the way they are.”
    None of this was going the way it was supposed to. Jala could almost hear her mother’s voice: Get him to talk about your looks. Tell him he’ll make a great king. She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said softly. “But I’m glad you didn’t die.”
    He leaned forward, hesitated, then kissed her on the mouth. His lips tasted salty, just like the air, but they were soft and hot. Jala let herself relax into his hold. It was so easy to kiss him, somehow. She found it hard to remember that there was any reason to stop. She could feel his heart beating quickly, as fast as her own. The wind felt cold over her bare shoulders.
    In just a minute, I’ll tell him to stop.
    â€œHere they are,” someone shouted, and suddenly they were surrounded by voices. Azi pulled away from her. People stared at her: the guards who were supposed to keep an eye on her, her mother and her cousins, men and women from the village.
    â€œSo this was your plan?” It was the king’s uncle, standing next to Jala’s mother and speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “To have your daughter seduce the king so that he felt obligated to choose her? I wonder how many others she’s kissed back here. Now I see the kind of queen the Bardo offer.”
    The king reached for her hand, but Jala pulled away in the guise of straightening her hair. A braid had come undone, so she tied it back once more. If she could do nothing else, at least she could try to maintain some dignity.
    â€œI have to go,” Jala said.
    Azi stepped between Jala and the others. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll talk to my uncle, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
    â€œLet me pass,” Jala said, then added, “My king.”
    He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he stepped aside. “Of course. Go to your family, and we’ll sort this out tomorrow. Good night, Jala.”
    â€œGood night, my king.”
    She