Chapter 9
Maryn
Vera was different this morning. Not soft, she was still Vera, but the sharp edges were gone.
She had called my mother Okaasama. Something about it snagged, familiar in a way I couldn’t place.
My mother, saying Okaasan to her own mother, years ago.
Neither of us acknowledged it. Some things didn't need words.
Mom was gone again, and I was beginning to think it wasn’t accidental.
Without a job to keep me busy this week, I’d begun looking forward to my first Rite ball. This wasn’t like a social ball. The pressure of a man finding you desirable was gone. Instead, a new terror loomed over all our heads.
One woman would go home tonight.
“Why are you so red?”
Vera blotted my neck, applying another layer of concealer. I stared at her while she worked, her own cheeks flushed from the exertion, and it struck me. I knew I’d seen her before. How had I forgotten? It was only two years ago.
“Do you miss this?”
She stiffened, her brush stilling on my chest.
“I guess you’re not in shock anymore.”
“I guess not.”
She continued her work, blotting up my neck and under my chin. “I miss being the one in the chair. Not the spotlight… or the girls.”
I bit my lip. “If I get past Trial Four—”
“You won’t.”
I closed my mouth.
She continued working, dabbing my forehead, but her hands weren’t steady anymore.
“Vera.”
She set her blotting brush down, lifting a black liner pencil.
“Vera.”
She stopped, looking at me. “I’m sorry he didn’t choose you.”
She scoffed. “You think I wanted to become a Cannon?”
I studied her face. “Yes.”
She glared at me, pressing the pencil to the crease of my eye. “Wanting to become a Hale isn’t any less foolish.”
“You had a real chance, though.”
“Stop talking. You’ll ruin all my hard work.”
“Let’s go, ladies! Time is ticking,” Paul shouted from the living room.
She applied my second line and leaned back. “There. A Middle goddess.”
My lips pressed into a flat line. “That was almost a compliment.”
“Keep dreaming.”
I stood, brushing out my skirts and turned. I truly looked like a bride. My breath caught as I spun and small jewels winked in the light between the folds of my skirt.
“Oh yeah. The cameras will eat that up.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Vera.”
“Get out of my sight.”
I spun toward the door.
“You better not lose in that dress. It’s one of a kind.”
***
The curtain parted, and I stepped into a room that put Josh Silva’s home to shame. Glittering lights encircled the room, and a massive chandelier hung at its center, casting diamond shapes onto every surface.
It was darker than any of the social balls I’d been to, and I wondered absently if it was because women weren’t here to be selected. This party was about one man. The man who would choose someone’s fate tonight.
“Maryn!”
I turned, my voluminous skirts swaying with the motion, and Ruth crashed into me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“Your speech was inspired. I cried. I mean, I literally cried. You look like a princess.” She spun us in a circle and gasped when the gems tucked into my skirt caught the light. “A princess.”
I laughed, sliding my arm in hers. “I missed you.”
“I can’t believe you invited me.”
I gaped. “Why wouldn’t I? I need you here by my side.”
She lifted a fan to cover her mouth. “You know. In case you’re eliminated. I wouldn’t want anyone I knew watching that live.” Her mouth fell open. “Not that you will be. That one girl. Ten? There’s no way they keep her over you.”
Deena stepped around the corner, her eyes red-rimmed, and rushed past us into a dark corner before either of us could speak.
“I forgot she would be here.”
I nodded, patting her hand. “It’s okay.” I scanned the room full of people I didn’t know.
The other contestants dotted the crowd, sticking closely with their friends or family members.
It was my first time seeing most of them in person.
Apart from the trial. But we were all nervous, sweaty messes then.
None of us had time to study one another.
Tonight, sharp eyes cataloged and filed away every detail.
“Let’s get punch.”
“Oh. I guess we can. We don't need anyone to bring us drinks tonight, do we?”
It wasn’t like Ruth to be nervous at a ball. These events were her element. But as we crossed the room, it was clear that most of those in attendance were Upper-Middle and Elite. I’d never been in a room with so many Elite in my life.
Ruth smoothed her skirts, fluttering her lashes, and I yanked harder on her arm. “Stop it,” I hissed. This wasn't a social ball. Flirting here was just embarrassing.
Her cheeks reddened, and she spun toward me. “That was dumb, I know. It's just. Well. You got one so maybe I could too.”
My heart drummed as I glanced around.
“Maryn.”
We turned, and Paul gave Ruth a once-over. “We need you.”
I nodded, squeezing Ruth’s hand before releasing it to follow him to the center of the room.
I stopped at the edge of the group, staring at the back of a dozen perfectly styled heads.
Someone at the front was giving directions, but I couldn’t hear them.
“Excuse me,” I said, pushing into the middle of the group.
“He’s just telling us we’ll be lined up in order of selection,” a girl said beside me. Her dress was dove white and hugged her curves all the way to the floor. With our stylists, it was impossible for me to tell which girls had been Elite and which had been from the Middle.
My gaze drifted to her hands, lacing and unlacing in front of her.
“I’m Mara,” she whispered.
My gaze shot to her. Her face was open, a touch of her nerves plain in the bunch between her brows.
“Maryn.”
“Yes. Everyone knows you. The down–on–one–knee match.”
My lips tipped up.
“Let’s go. Line up.”
Mara fell into line after several others, and I moved to stand at the end. So Mara was number seven. I tried and failed to remember her match. It hadn’t gotten much screen time on Monday recaps. Definitely from the Middle.
Something brushed my fingers, and I spun around. A group of people stood around mingling and chatting, but none looked at me.
“Twelve. Yes. Hello. Over here.”
I turned back to face the producer overseeing tonight’s event.
“When he comes out, I want you all watching. Adoring.” He met each of our eyes. “That’s your man, ladies. The world wants to see it.”
Someone clapped.
“Simmer down, Six.”
A few of the women giggled.
Paul was there, his mini drones buzzing around his head. I stared at one as it zoomed around me. “Eyes straight ahead, Twelve.” Paul gave me an exasperated look. “The camera loves anonymity.”
I nodded.
“Move. He’s inbound.” Another producer waved his arms, and everyone who wasn’t a contestant disappeared into the crowd. Drones whirred overhead, and I tried to ignore them. The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight bounced off a massive door in the corner.
My pulse thrummed at my throat as a beat of silence fell over the room.
The collective breath expelled as one when the door swung wide, and Elias stepped in.
Lights flashed, drones hummed, and even I was caught up in the spectacle, lifting on my toes to see him over the crowd’s slow parting. He shook hands, stopped to say hello to guests, all while we stood. Silent. Waiting.
He ignored us. Gaze everywhere but on the twelve girls lined up and waiting for him.
My smile slipped before I could catch it. The other girls held theirs perfectly.
My hands laced behind my back, and my thumb found the tips of my gloves.
Then, he was there. Standing across from us. The room went silent again, and Elias turned slowly, scanning the crowd.
“Thank you all for coming to my Rite.”
He smiled, and everyone burst into applause. Some of the girls clapped with them, but slashing motions from the producers along the wall had them stilling.
“I suppose some of you never thought you’d see me here.” He paused. “But those of you who know me knew it would be my top priority after I graduated.”
A drone dropped from the ceiling, leveling with his face, and he looked directly into it.
“There’s nothing more important to me than my sacred duty to marry and bring the next generation of strong, capable men into this world.”
He raised his glass.
“Under Covenant. One purpose.”
Around me, every voice answered without hesitation. “For the sons we carry forward.”
Loud, boisterous applause, and this time, producers waved their hands wildly until we were all clapping too.
“Enough speeches. This is a party!”
Elias stepped forward, holding out his hand to the first girl at the end of our row, number one. Sera Cannon. On cue, music burst to life.
We all took several steps back to clear the way, and the room watched, murmuring as Elias danced with his top choice. His first match.
Sera was everything I wasn’t. Tall, elegant, poised. A born Elite. She needed only to have a son of her own to maintain her status for life. They spun by, and my heart sped.
Had his eyes found mine? Just for a moment?
My fingers unclasped from behind my back, and I gasped, bringing my hand around to find a small piece of paper folded in my palm. I didn’t look around for who had put it there. Looking would have been a mistake.
I swallowed, tucking it away.
I could kiss Vera for giving me pockets.
The song ended, and Elias held out his hand to Lydia Cannon, Sera’s cousin. She took it, and one by one, each of the women had her turn with him. None of the other attendees joined him on the dance floor. Instead, we all watched as he danced with each of his twelve matches.
Finally, it was my turn.
Our eyes met as he held out his hand. Up close, the tiredness was visible, a slight heaviness around his eyes that the cameras wouldn’t catch from a distance. He’d done this eleven times tonight.
He’d stopped a little too far away, forcing me to come to him.
Had he done that with the others?
I stepped forward and heat rushed up my side as his hand settled on my waist.
We began to spin and I was suddenly aware of how little space there was between us. My arms stiffened and, I fixed my eyes somewhere over his shoulder, the way I’d watched the others do. Neutral but pleasant.
“Your speech was incredible.”
My eyes found his before I could stop them. “You watched?”
“Of course.”
I looked away. “I hope it was good enough.”
The hand at my waist tightened, and my breath caught. I felt his eyes on me.
“No matter what happens.” His voice dropped low enough that only I could hear it. “You were always good enough, Maryn.”
Something pulled tight in my chest, and I had to work not to show it.
I opened my mouth.
The song ended.
He released me, stepping back.
I dipped my chin, and returned to my place at the end of the line.
Elias faced the room. “As most of you know, we typically share the details of the rankings at these parties, but it doesn’t feel celebratory to me. Instead, I’ll make this part quick.”
His gaze shot my way, and my stomach dropped.
“Deena, step forward.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth before her wail erupted.
He moved to take her hand, but I didn’t hear any of it. My head was spinning. Why had his words felt like a warning? He’d looked my way, and I’d been certain for a moment that my callous retorts from before had pushed him too far.
There was too much at stake for that to happen. I couldn’t afford to be the reason I failed.
She was escorted out. Music filled the space she left behind.
A dark shape solidified in front of me.
He was dressed entirely in black, short dark hair, eyes darker still. I placed him before he spoke—the man who had watched me from a corner at the Middle ball. A man who screamed Elite from his velvet loafers to the exquisite tailoring of his slacks. He'd had no business being there that night.
Here, he was in his element.
Something charged the air as he closed the distance, his attention fixed on me in a room full of preening peacocks. The hair on my arms rose.
"Dance with me?"
Every instinct told me to step back. I took his hand instead.
His gaze never wavered as we moved to the dance floor, and I cleared my throat. Get it together, Maryn.
“Your speech was quite impassioned.”
His accent was strange. “Are you a friend of Elias?”
He laughed dryly. “No.”
“My father is producing the Rite. I’m here to assist him.” He sucked on a tooth. “Learn the business.”
We spun in a circle, and I stared at his black eyes, so dark I could nearly see my reflection in them. “I see.”
“Do you?”
“What?”
He tugged me closer.
I pushed back.
“I'm matched.”
His smirk dropped. “Of course.”
I cleared my throat, lifting my arm as if in reminder of the distance we should maintain.
I searched for something to say to fill the awkward silence.
“You’re from Michigan City?”
He nodded. “Ever been?”
I snorted, tearing my hand from his grasp to cover my mouth. “What kind of question is that?”
“If this whole thing doesn’t work out for you, I’d love to take you.”
My mouth fell into a flat line.
The song ended, and I backed up, freeing my hand from his.
He watched me go, saying nothing, and I moved faster, searching the crowd for a familiar face.
A hand slid across my back, and I spun, ready to scream. “Hey. Maryn. It’s me.”
I exhaled a sigh of relief and reached for Elias’s hand.
“I need some air.”