CHAPTER ELEVEN
THIS COULDN’T BE HAPPENING. I SUCKED IN DEEP, DESPERATE breaths as the Pod slowed to a stop, trapping me.
I had no way out of this. I couldn’t face them without Collin at my side.
Vincent’s unwavering support of the Illum would keep his viciousness in check if Collin were present.
I felt more comfortable jumping from the Pod than entering their living quarters without him.
The blue silk wrinkled in my fist. I had been a fool—a brainwashed, na?ve fool—to have trusted an Illum for even one moment.
The doors to the Pod opened, and my heart plunged to the ground below, smashing on the earth’s surface. I was entering my birth home at the top of one of the tallest towers dressed in Major Defect blue.
It belongs with the Majors, with those like it. Mark my words, she will end up there. When my heels clicked against luxurious tile, my birth father’s words escorted me instead of a Mate.
“Good evening, Ms. Emeline,” a male Defect said, bowing. “May I scan your wrist for dinner? Then I shall escort you.”
I extended my wrist, and he took in the deep blue dress. Quickly, he stepped away from me. A knot formed in my throat as I followed him through my birth family’s living quarters.
Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the entire wall, and the rest of the room was adorned with varying white and cream furniture, an ode to the fluffy clouds, swollen with the oncoming storm, that drifted by the expansive windows.
Light danced upon the white marble tiles from the largest chandelier I had ever seen, a swirling brass structure embellished with hundreds of delicate white ceramic petals.
A black fountain rested below the petals, as if waiting to catch any that fell.
Trickling water fell from the edges, filling the space with a soothing sound.
It looked more like a sculpture than a chandelier—alive, free, and so at odds with those who lived here.
I wondered why my birth father allowed it.
The place should have felt familiar. I had lived here once. Yet I recognized nothing except the shame and loneliness that had been my only companions.
My pulse quickened as male voices drifted from the room the attendant disappeared into. I swallowed around the lump lodged beneath my metal collar and followed.
The room was darker, and for once the beauty was lost on me as three members of my birth family waited for me.
Richard, the oldest birth brother, sat on the sofa. My middle brother, Gregory, lounged in a chair, swirling a drink. And an impressive and immovable man stood in front of a marble mantel, staring at a glowing-hot rod in the hearth.
“Mr. Vincent, Ms. Emeline has arrived,” the attendant stated.
“And Mr. Collin?” my birth father drawled, not even acknowledging me.
“He has yet to arrive.” The man bowed. “I shall fetch Ms. Emeline a drink.”
“There’s no need, not until Mr. Collin arrives,” Vincent ordered as a way of dismissal, looking away from me to converse with Richard, who was almost his spitting image, except, like me, he had our birth mother’s deep brown hair.
But his eyes were the same shade of deep brown as Vincent’s.
More than that, he carried himself the same haughty way.
With my lens, I would assume we looked remarkably alike. Maybe that was why he couldn’t look at me. My heart quaked at the dismissal.
How bizarre it felt to share blood and features and yet be a complete stranger. To be hated in a way only strangers could.
“Do tell me, is this color in rebellion to your mating, or are you just partial to the color of trash?” Gregory taunted lazily.
He was my mother’s spitting image, from the crystal blue eyes to the immaculate bone structure.
He was handsome, almost beautiful. His hair color was the only link to our birth father—lighter than mine—and shaved brutally short.
His full mouth smirked at me, his legs propped over the arm of the chair, his shirt unbuttoned at the top.
“I didn’t choose the dress,” I said quietly.
“Your Mate must have more of a sense of humor than I gave him credit for,” Gregory drawled, and his smile grew as he slyly glanced at Vincent, who watched me with satisfaction gleaming in his hateful eyes.
“Did you know . . .” Gregory continued, swinging his feet off the arm of the chair and coming to stand, approaching me like he was cornering prey.
Despite being ten years older than I was, he was tall and lean, a boyish charm about him.
“. . . that I didn’t believe them when they told me the girl in the sheer white dress was my birth sister?
That I had a sister?” He cocked his head to the side.
The confirmation that he hadn’t known of my existence jarred me.
My birth brothers had already been sent to the Elite Academy by the time I was born.
Shock radiated through me as he pulled my hand up to his mouth, quickly pecking it. He was greeting me, even in blue. He smirked as he held my hand tighter, pulling me closer. “Tell me, dear sister. What horrors are you hiding beneath?”
I recoiled, my hand still in his grasp. He didn’t know about my eyes. He greeted me to taunt me. An emptiness settled deep, deep in my chest.
“Gregory,” Vincent thundered, “do not entertain her.”
Gregory let go of my hand, glancing over his shoulder at our birth father. He shot me a quick wink before retrieving his drink and downing it in one gulp.
“How much longer are we to wait for Collin?” Vincent inquired impatiently.
They did not know. My pulse turned unruly. I was going to have to tell them he wasn’t coming. Instead of an Illum, they got me. A Minor in blue. The daughter they hadn’t bothered to know or even discuss.
I hesitated, catching my lip between my teeth. Richard watched me as Gregory’s light blue eyes caught mine. He smiled like he was about to receive a treat.
“My Mate had something come up. He can’t join us.”
There was a terrible pause. Vincent glared at me before walking from the room without a word.
Richard followed, muttering under his breath.
A click made me jump as Gregory opened a hidden cabinet and refilled his glass, draining it in one go before refilling it.
He walked over to me, shoving the glass into my hand.
“Best to drink it quickly,” Gregory suggested, and I hesitated. “Trust me, you’ll need it. The only way to get through these family dinners is a stiff drink.”
I lifted the glass to my lips. The contents had a strong aroma that was smoky and slightly off-putting. Gregory tipped it back for me, leaving me no choice but to drink it all. I lowered the glass, sputtering, my insides on fire.
“What is that?” I rasped, massaging my metal-clad throat.
“Does it matter?” Gregory mocked, replenishing the glass again. “It’s a wonderful thing called alcohol. It befuddles the mind.”
“Gregory,” a clipped voice reprimanded. “What are you doing?” My youngest brother, Phillip, stood in the doorway, glowering.
Gregory shrugged in false innocence and fell back into his chair. “Baby brother, how splendid of you to join us. Do tell us how things fare at the Capitol. Have you kissed enough asses to be an Illum yet? Sold your soul?”
Phillip ignored him. He was only slightly taller than I was.
He was an odd combination of our birth parents; he had curls like mine, but they were light like our birth father’s.
He had our birth mother’s face, making him classically beautiful like Gregory.
His crystal blue eyes assessed me, but not in the poisonous way that Richard’s had.
He looked at me like you would a puzzle, evaluating the pieces.
He shook his curls out of his face and grasped my hand quickly before releasing it.
“Collin sends his regards. Things are busy right now,” Phillip told me tightly.
“You work with him, right?” I asked. I had nearly forgotten in the chaos of the last few days.
“I—” Phillip began, but Gregory cut him off.
“He does. Phillip, our little pride and joy, trying to be just like his dear friend Collin. Rejecting mating contracts, leaving all the mothers distraught, all to sell himself to the Illum like a pet.”
“You’re always such a pleasure after a couple of drinks, Gregory,” Phillip commented dryly.
Gregory stood, stretching before strutting to the exit. “Someone has to keep it interesting around here. However, I assume our little sister is about to make things very interesting.”
He left, and I stood awkwardly, a death grip on my clutch. My hands ached; I was sure the metal would cut into my palms if I continued to hold it so tightly. I felt flushed, and my body tingled, throat still raw from the burn of the alcohol.
“The Starlings dressed you?” Phillip asked as he looked at my gown, his brow furrowed. He didn’t cringe from the blue color. Maybe being so close to the Illum gave him some protection from such things. Instead, he stared at the gown like he did me, like it was a problem only he could solve.
“Yes,” I said uncomfortably, smoothing the front of the gown. “It was addressed to me. Did Collin—”
Gregory popped his head back in, cutting me off. “Mother’s coming.”
Phillip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go.” He led the way into the next room. “The gown will have to wait. Thankfully, it is only family tonight. The insult is minimal. We’ll just need to make sure the Press doesn’t get wind of this.”
I couldn’t breathe around the word family—and how easily he said it. My mind raced by their evident familiarity with one another, the intimacy. Mother, brother, sister. These were familial terms, ancient terms that I thought had died out.
Everything in the Defects’ education used words like birth father, birth mother, and birth sibling—acknowledging a tie, but it was formal and detached. They meant nothing to the Defect community. The clicks of my heels reverberated through me as I walked in to meet a family, my family.
A family I did not know.