28. Chapter 28
Maryn
My head pounded. I blinked, light searing my eyes just before I squeezed them shut.
The buzz of my tablet made me groan.
I flung out a hand, sliding it along the sheets until I felt my sleek, cold tablet and dragged it toward me. Holding it up, I squinted, trying to make sense of the letters.
Report downstairs for testing in nine minutes.
I sat up, and the world cracked in two.
The room tilted, but I pressed my palm firmly into the mattress and pushed myself out of bed.
At the bottom of the stairs, a chaperone in gray waited. Her sharp eyes trailed the length of me; I wrapped a self-conscious hand over my middle.
I trudged to the door, hissing as the full weight of the sun scalded me. Sinking into the car, I leaned my head against cool metal, eyes sliding closed. In moments, we were rolling forward, and my stomach lurched.
I grabbed the door handle, wrenching it toward me, and the car jerked to a stop as I tumbled out. Bile spilled over my lips as my stomach heaved once, twice, a third time. I wiped my mouth with my gloved hand and grimaced at the line of brown streaking it.
My hand pressed heavily into the side of the car as I stood on shaking legs.
The chaperone stared straight ahead.
Trembling fingers squeezed into fists as moments from the ball, the trial, the forty-eight hours trapped in my room, flooded in. Elias’s words clanged through my mind like a tuning fork. It will get better. I promise.
Was this better? I hadn’t even had time to read the instructions for my next trial. Vera hadn’t come. It was less than twenty-four hours after the last elimination. I tugged the tablet out of my pocket, touching the screen.
It wasn’t Saturday, it was Sunday. I’d slept through an entire day. Worse, there were no messages about Trial Eight. If this wasn’t a trial… what was it?
We pulled up outside of a Covenant Reproductive Center, and the blood in my veins iced. I glanced at the chaperone, but she continued to stare at nothing as the car stopped.
Not Trial Eight. Another test. The fertility test.
It was the one thing I couldn’t study for. The one variable that I had no control over.
I pressed trembling fingers to the door handle.
Inside, pale pink walls swallowed me, pressing tighter as I made my way to a reception desk.
A woman, wrapped in pastel pink, looked up smiling.
She was young, barely old enough to have reached eligibility.
In the Middle, only men held positions within the medical field.
Women weren’t allowed inside unless they were with a chaperone or a parent.
Another thing that was different in the Center, it seemed.
“Welcome, Maryn Veil, daughter of Joel Veil.”
Was I the last? Again?
“You’ll be in room one. The doctor will see you shortly.” She tipped her chin toward a door with a large one painted on it.
I nodded, twisting my glove to hide the brown smear. My hair was unbound, tangled knots pulling at my scalp, and the bodice of my dress dug painfully into my ribs.
The woman staring back at me had no dark circles under her eyes, no drool on her cheek.
I turned.
“Undress fully and slip on the pink robe when you enter,” the woman called to my back as I approached the door.
Inside the claustrophobic room, the chaperone sat in a sturdy metal chair, facing the door.
I wriggled on the uncomfortable metal table, arms wrapped around thin fabric. Goosebumps pricked my arms; I resisted the urge to rub them.
The door clicked open, and my gaze shot to the man who stepped through.
“Are you decent?”
My cheeks flushed.
“Sorry. That’s a bit of doctor humor usually reserved for my pregnant patients.” The man grinned. “Because who wouldn’t be decent when they’re carrying a possible son?”
His laugh turned my insides, and I fought the grimace sliding over my face. Calm, Maryn.
He looked down at his tablet. “Right. A few questions, and then we’ll get started.” His fingers moved as he tapped. “Name.”
“Maryn Veil, daughter of Joel Veil, son of—”
“That’s alright. One name will do.” He smiled once more, but it was less jovial this time.
He stood over me, sliding a pair of glasses over his eyes. “Best invention of the last century if you ask me.” He tapped the frame. “You wouldn’t believe what we used to have to do to get this information.” He shuddered theatrically. “Very undignified.”
His gaze ran the length of me, halting on my arms crossed over my stomach.
“Lay your hands at your sides, please.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, flexing my fingers as I pressed them against my sides.
His gaze continued south.
“Good,” he said when he reached my thighs. “Two perfectly functioning ovaries, more than one ripe egg. Very good.” He touched his tablet and typed, then looked up, pushing the glasses on top of his head. “I’ll need to collect a blood and follicle sample, then you’ll be on your way.”
I nodded.
He sat, rolling toward me. “Spread ‘em.”
My head tingled as the color drained from my face.
“I’m just kidding.” The doctor laughed, slapping a hand on the table. “Can you imagine?” He leaned closer. “That’s how they did it before the war, though.” He made a face. “No, thank you.”
I inhaled a slow breath through my nose as he rolled to my side and held a long needle. “Finger.”
His tone was light.
I raised my pointer finger, and the tube punctured it just under the nail. I bit down on a cry. A line of crimson tracked under the nail and into the needle. He lifted a glass tube, screwing it onto the end of the needle and began filling it with my blood.
When it was full, his gaze met mine. “Not too bad, right?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Now just a bit of the underside of your nail.”
I couldn’t stop the whimper as he rotated the needle and something rough scraped my nail, dragging a bit of skin with it.
He set the needle down on the tray beside him. “All done.”
I pinched my lips together and nodded.
Standing, he spun toward the door, but stopped before he reached it. “Don’t forget to rate your experience here today.” He winked. “I’m just kidding.” He shook his head, pressing a hand to the door. “Can you imagine?”
His laugh was loud enough that I heard it even after the door closed.
I sat up, wrapping my right hand around my left finger. A single tear slid down my cheek. I sat, holding my finger far longer than I should have. Another tear fell, and another.
No one asked me to leave; the chaperone never looked my way.
In the car, I tucked my abused finger under my armpit. Two functioning ovaries. More than one ripe egg. I turned the words over in my mind. It was something. But something might not be enough. The Covenant didn’t just want women who could have children. They wanted women who could have sons.
I exited the car, glancing back at the chaperone as we pulled away, wondering fleetingly where she lived. Where all the chaperones lived.
Inside, the Rite house was eerily quiet.
I trudged up the stairs, glancing at Nami’s room. Shower first.
Hot water scalded my skin as I pressed my forehead to the tile wall. In twenty-four hours, I would either be continuing this competition or my mission would have failed. What would Lucen do? I shook the thought from my head.
Padding to my closet, I pulled out a house dress and slid it over my head. I had never looked forward to Monday as much as I did now. A full day to rest and do nothing.
Would Calden come?
I ground my teeth together. Thinking of him had nearly gotten me eliminated in Trial Seven. I couldn’t imagine what Beth had revealed that had been worse. I couldn’t afford to make another mistake like that.
In the hall, I knocked softly on Nami’s door.
“Nami?”
“She’s gone,” Lydia sneered.
I spun around to find her perched in her doorframe, arms crossed.
“Where?”
“She’s infertile.”
I frowned. “I don’t believe you.”
Sera’s door opened, and she glanced between us. “It’s true. My father told me this morning. She’ll be sent to the farm with all the other women wasting precious resources.”
Of course Sera and was allowed to talk to her family. She wasn't expected to follow the rules like the rest of us.
Turning away to hide my burning eyes, I twisted the door handle, stepping into Nami’s room, and my stomach flipped.
Empty. Where it had been full of her knick-knacks and clothes strewn about the space before, the bed sat neatly made, the wardrobe door thrown wide as though someone had packed her things in haste.
“You’re next.”
I ignored Lydia, moving to the center of the room to press a hand on the newly made bed. My gaze traced the bare walls, scraping over the empty wardrobe.
Gone. My only friend here was gone. I wished, not for the first time, that I could see Ruth.
***
I exhaled a long breath. My stomach was full to the point of bursting, and the hot water rushed over my skin, washing away the last several days. Monday didn’t feel the same without Nami. My lids drooped in the shower.
I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in silk and climb under the blankets.
Turning the faucet, I reached for a towel, wrapping it tightly around me and padded into my bedroom.
I jumped.
“Mother above!” I shouted, pressing a hand to my chest. “What are you doing in my room?”
Black eyes landed heavily on my bare legs before his eyes met mine, but Calden said nothing, standing and moving toward me.
My back hit the wall as he closed the space between us.
He was close enough that his warm breath brushed my face.
“You can’t—” I swallowed. “be in here. I’m not dressed.”
Heat seared my cheeks as his gaze burned me, but I looked away, unable to meet his stare.
He leaned closer, and my entire body flushed hot. “Please,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
His warmth evaporated; the cold rushed back faster than I expected. When I blinked my eyes open, Calden stood several paces away, holding himself stiffly.
He turned, giving me his back. “Get dressed.” His words were rough, chafing my raw, exposed skin.
“I… I can’t.”
“I won’t look.”
I stared at his broad shoulders. He was frozen, a statue in the middle of my room, taking up far too much space for one man. I should have hated him for barging in again. But the feeling in my chest was something else entirely.
I rushed to my wardrobe, grabbed a long silk robe, and tugged it over my shoulders. The towel dropped to my ankles, and I pulled the belt tight, double-knotting it. Spinning, I crossed the room to my bed, tearing back the blankets and sliding under them.
When I’d pulled them up to my chin, I cleared my throat. “Okay. I’m dressed.”
He turned slowly, but the blazing fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed now that I was covered.
In two long strides, he was across the room, standing over my bed.
“May I sit?”
My mouth fell open. I didn’t know this man. In truth, he was far more familiar with me than I was with him, but I knew one thing: he never asked permission. Something had changed.
I nodded.
He sat, scooting back until his head rested against the headboard and expelled a loud sigh. He stared at the empty wall where the TV projected images on Mondays.
I held my breath, my knuckles white around the blanket.
“I’m sorry I had to leave you.”
My heart rate slowed a fraction, and I glanced at him. “Where… did you go?”
He lifted an arm, wedging it behind his head and tilted to face me. “Dad needed me in Michigan City to handle a few things.”
I swallowed. “But now you’re back?”
The stiffness in his posture was gone, but the heat was still there. “I couldn’t stay away. Not when I knew you were thinking of me.”
My grip on the blanket tightened.
His gaze shot to my nails, and I winced. He stretched his free hand toward me, prying my fingers loose and inspecting them. His hands were warm. Steadier than mine.
He tsked. “This is unacceptable.”
Under the blankets, my other hand squeezed into a fist.
“What has you coiled so tight, Quick?”
I should have torn my hand from his. Should have demanded he leave, but my fingers, tucked inside his, refused. The weight of his hand over mine was the most grounded I’d felt in days. Even on top of my covers, his heat spread, cracking the ice in my veins.
Slowly, my shoulder relaxed, my fisted hand loosened.
“Nami is gone.” The words were out before I could stop them.
I glanced up, meeting his eyes once.
His fingers tightened around mine. “What happened?”
My vision blurred. “The other women said she was sent to the farm.” I cleared my throat. “For… infertility.”
Calden sat up, never releasing my hand.
When the silence stretched, I looked up again. He searched my face, reading me, as he had from our very first encounter. Deciding something.
“I’ll find her.”
His hand released mine, and he slid off the bed, taking his heat with him.
I watched him cross the room, stopping beside the window. He climbed through, setting something down.
I stared at it: a hexagon, white and flecked with oats.
“My soap?”
He paused on the ledge. “It was your welcome gift. I didn’t want you to run out.”
I didn’t move.
“Calden.”
Too late. He was already gone.