40. Claire
40
CLAIRE
I ’m sipping my sweet tea, nodding without listening to the mindless banter of my former Promise Sisters, when the room tilts.
At least, that’s how it feels.
The commotion from the crowd watching the polo game outside draws the interest of everyone inside . It’s as though we’re on a ship, and suddenly, the ship has tacked, sloshing everyone to the other side of the room, noses pressed to windows, breath fogging glass.
I peer outside the wide, observatory-style windows myself, expecting to see the tail end of an accident—a horse and rider flailing on the ground.
What I find instead makes my blood temperature rise.
Ransom and Everett are riding the same horse. Cuddled tightly together, they play the game as a single unit and are, subsequently, demolishing the competition.
In any other circumstance, I might find this cute! Entertaining! Amusing!
But when they’re making a mockery of the Equestrian Club…right when I’m about to have a meeting with its owner…
It’s infuriating .
They’re like children. I can’t take my eyes off them for two seconds.
“Goddammit,” I mutter under my breath.
“Quite the game.”
I recognize the voice behind me immediately—dark, deep Arris.
I quickly turn to face him. “Christ. I’m sorry…I honestly have no idea what they’re doing?—”
Arris chuckles. “Don’t be. This is the most entertainment the crowd has had in a long time.” His eyes sweep past me to the chaos below. “A little fresh blood can be a good thing every now and then.” He turns back to me. His hand finds my shoulder. “You wanted to talk with me?”
“Yes…” Now’s my chance. Everyone is distracted by the show below; they ignore us completely. Still, I take Arris’s arm and pull him aside, sitting down at a table at an empty table at the far end of the room. We have, at least, a little privacy here. Nerves tremble through me, but I fit my hands together, locking my fingers in place. Breathe, Claire . At a young age, I learned to pluck every thread of worry or anxiety from my expression. Daddy considered it unfitting for a woman of my standing. So when I look at Arris now, I’m confident I’m wearing nothing but a blank, calm expression.
“I’ve been going through Daddy’s things,” I explain. “Organizing and cleaning his records.”
He nods, understanding. “I’m sure that’s quite the endeavor.”
“Quite. He was meticulous, as you know. But the truth is I’ve found some things that are, frankly, disturbing. ”
His gray eyebrows knit together. “ Disturbing ?”
“Daddy considered you family. And you worked so closely together. I just thought if anyone knew what was going on, it would be you.”
Arris’s large hands sweep around the table. He encloses my hands in his own.
“Whatever I can do to help,” he says. His voice sounds so sincere, so earnest, my heart aches for it. “Tell me what you found.”
I want to believe him. I want to trust him.
But…
Perhaps it’s my black Preacher heart that knows no one is above suspicion.
There’s a nagging here I can’t release.
I look him dead in the eyes. “Oculus,” I say. “Does that name mean anything to you?”
There . Right there.
A flicker in his gaze.
“Oculus?” He stretches the word out. “No. I’m afraid not.”
But he’s nodding as he speaks. A tell.
He knows. Fuck. He’s known all along .
I start to pull away, but his hands tighten, trapping me in place.
“I wish I could be more help,” he continues. “But the truth is, as close as we were, your father shut me out in his final years. He shut everyone out. I hope I’m not overstepping here, but…I would hate to see you tread the same path.”
“Which path? The path to a sudden, violent death?”
“The path to isolation,” he corrects. “He trusted no one. Loved no one. I hope you know you have friends here. People who love you. ”
Yes. Ransom. Everett. Those people love me.
Not you.
Daddy knew. Now I know it, too.
But I play nice. For now. “I know,” I tell him.
A look of relief crosses his expression. His entire face warms. He releases his tight hold on me now and relaxes back into his chair. “I’m glad you pulled me aside, Claire. I wanted to talk with you, too. I hope to see you here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? That’s the Belleflower Festival.”
“Yes. And it would be nothing without its Queen.” He reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a thin envelope. He slides it across the table. “I would have put it under your pillow, but I figured you’re too old for that sort of thing.”
I stare at the envelope. It has a red wax seal.
The Benefactors’ Society.
All attempts to keep my composure shatter.
I run my thumb over the smooth, buttery wax seal. Like a blind person hunting for the meaning, I trace the seal. The closed eye. The ridges of the lashes.
The phrase skitters like a skipping stone across my mind: see no evil .
I slide my thumb underneath the lip of the envelope and pry open the seal.
The cackling laughter of the Promise Sisters, the clinking of tiny spoons against porcelain teacups, the hushed murmurs of gossip…all of that dissolves into a single, piercing buzz as I remove the letter from its sleeve.
The card stock is thick with fraying on the edges. The golden words curl in stylish, cursive script, the embossed letters giving the impression of it leaping off the paper .
You’ve been Chosen as this year’s Belleflower Queen.
My pulse pounds, excitement racing through me like a herd of horses, all stampeding in powerful, thumping, synchronized rhythm.
Underneath the announcement, the invitation continues in small, strict font:
This Honor granted to you is a testament to your Perseverance, Purity, and Steadiness of Character. Your Promise has matured into unwavering Ambition, and we have made the decision to grant you the Gifts of the Benefactors’ Society to fund and support your Life’s Mission.
At the end of your term, you will be Welcomed into the fold of Queens, a Community like none-other, where you will find Support, Love, and Empowerment. This position is an honor For Life.
You have been Matched to a King, who shall be revealed at the Coronation Ball on the Eve of the festival.
The members of the Benefactors’ Society humbly anticipate your acceptance at 10:00 AM on the fourteenth of September at The Belleflower Ranch .
Signed,
The Benefactors’ Society
The inconsistent capitalization is strange. The old-world language is unsettling. But as I hold the invitation in my hand, I feel nothing but longing, and gratitude, and a sudden wish to burst into queen-appropriate tears, despite the dryness in my eyes.
In one ear, I hear Everett’s warnings. Benefactors’ Society. Oculus. It’s too dangerous. Don’t trust them.
But in my other ear, Daddy’s ghost murmurs without breath, That’s my girl. I always knew you were number one.
This is what I wanted. What I’ve wanted my entire life.
And if something is rotten in Denmark…if there is someone scheming behind the scenes…
Wouldn’t the best place to uncover the mystery be from inside the very society itself?
All I have to do is accept it.
I hear my voice echo, as though it’s coming from someone else. “I don’t know what to say.”
The edges of Arris’s eyes crinkle. He’s pleased with my reaction. “Say nothing. Just be there.” His hand grasps me again, but this time, it’s a gentle touch on the wrist. A fatherly embrace. “Belleflower hasn’t been kind to you in the past. It’s here for you now. Your place is here, Claire. With us. It’s what your father would have wanted.”
He gives me one last pat on the hand and then rises to join the rest of his crowd.
He leaves me staring at those glimmering letters, rubbing the embossed words over and over like a worry stone.