Elevation of the Marked (The Marked Series Book 2) by March McCarron Read Free Book Online

gets to go celebrate while we’re on puke-bucket duty. Some luck we’ve got, hey?”  
    “I am happy to do as Quade bids. You should be too.” And with that, she left.
    Whythe rubbed at the sandy stubble on his chin, his maple-brown eyes twinkling. “If there’s one girl in the world who needs to lighten up, it’s her.”  
    Peer offered a noncommittal grunt. He watched Whythe extract a pad of paper and unwrap a roll of drawing pencils. He was an excellent artist—Peer, for lack of any better occupation, had watched him draw many dozens of sketches over the past weeks.
    He and Su-Hwan shared the same ability to deprive a Chisanta of their gift. Peer had to respect Quade’s preparedness. He’d not only had a backup for the Sphere, but he had a backup for his backup as well. The two of them took it in shifts to guard him. In personality, they could not be more different. He preferred Su-Hwan—she was easier to dislike.
    Whythe sharpened his pencil point with a knife. “Shall I draw another one of you, then?” Peer didn’t answer. He didn’t care. “I’ve probably got your face memorized by now. Though it keeps getting thinner. You really should eat more.”
    Peer grunted.
    “You know, if you cooperated a bit, I’m sure Quade would accept you. He’s a hard man, but he can be generous.” The sound of pencil scratching paper greeted Peer’s ear. “In the end, it would be better for you. We could be friends, you and I. I’m only two and a half years younger, you know. And I used to be a farmer too. Grew corn. Didn’t much like it though; I always preferred drawing. ” His tone was bright and expected no reply, which was for the best as Peer intended to give none.  
      Peer’s head thunked to the window pane. He let the rumble of the train and the incessant mumbling of the Fifth lull him into a stupor. His fingers probed at the cluster of injection marks on his arm, and a yearning filled him: a desire for the pinch of a needle, for the cool rush beneath his skin, for oblivion.  

4

    Unbidden, Bray’s gaze tugged to the shrouded figure on the doctor’s operating table. Cream fabric concealed the still form, but the points of two slippered feet, the tiny summit of a nose, and the valleys of eyes left no doubt what lay beneath.
    “Thank you again, Doctor,” Yarrow said, shaking the old, bearded man’s hand. “For everything.”
    “Not a bit, young man,” he faltered. “Or, ah, Master Chisanta. I only wish I could have done more.”
    Morning light streamed through the yellow paisley curtains, brightening the old-fashioned rooms that served both as doctor’s quarters and personal sitting room. Footsteps creaked from above, indicating that at least one of their party, aside from Yarrow and herself, had roused.
    Yarrow slumped down beside her; she noticed that his hair was damp, that he smelt of lye soap. His coloring was much improved from the evening before, though his gauntness seemed to have increased overnight.
    “How are you feeling?” she asked.
    He affected a smile. “Better.” His eyes darted to the queen’s corpse. “In some respects.”
    Slow footfalls sounded on the stairwell and Jo-Kwan materialized on the landing. Bray regarded him with a sympathetic brow. Losing both parents in one night—she couldn’t imagine it. Her father’s death had been nearly unbearable, and that had been only one loss.  
    Dark circles marred the new king’s under-eyes. His right arm was strapped to his chest to keep his shoulder immobilized.  
    Doctor Padderton jumped from his stool. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, Your Highness. Your injury—”
    “I thank you for your concern and your hospitality, but I have…” He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Responsibilities.”
    “ We have responsibilities,” Chae-Na corrected as she entered the room, her chin raised, though her eyes were puffy and pink. Jo-Kwan drew her into a tight embrace; he blinked several times, gripped