13. Chapter 13
Maryn
The door buzzed, and I glanced at Mama. She shook her head and returned to her sewing.
I stood, shuffling to the door and pushing it open a crack.
Paul stood on the other side, Vera wedged beside him, a massive trunk at her feet. He pulled the door wide, looking me up and down.
I groaned, backing up.
“Don’t give me that attitude, Twelve. It’s Tuesday. You had all weekend to rest. That’s more than any of us working-class shmos get.”
“Why are you here? I don’t have my next trial instructions yet.”
Vera shouldered past Paul, dragging the trunk inside. She glared up at me, inhaling deeply. “Why don’t they have elevators in the Middle? I hate your life.”
My lips tipped up.
“Check your tablet, Duchess. Your trial came through half an hour ago. We have to be there by two.”
I blinked. “Today?”
Paul looked at Vera. “You were wrong. There is a brain in there.”
Vera rolled her eyes, and the trunk slammed onto its side. “I don’t have time for either of your shit. Maryn, get naked.”
My gaze darted to Paul.
“I’m going. I’m going.”
He marched through the small space and into my room.
The door slid shut, and I spun around. “I can get dressed in my room.”
“No time. And your outfit won’t fit.”
My mouth dropped open, and she unrolled layers of creamy tule.
“What the fuck is that?”
Vera grinned. “I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Maryn.”
I spun around, remembering for the first time since Paul and Vera barged in that she was still there. “Sorry, Mama.”
“Hurry up. I have two hours to get you ready.”
I stared at the pile of fabric. “Don’t you have anything… less?”
She stood, yanking the gown with her. “This is your Lineage Trial. You’re going on stage and reminding the world that you’re from the Middle. You need to look like you don’t belong there.”
I swallowed and fumbled with my first button.
***
I stared out the car window.
A woman was on her knees on the pavement, hands bound behind her back.
A Covenant security guard, dressed all in black, stood over her, one boot pressed to her calf.
Red matted the side of her head and she stared up at him in defiance, but she wasn't fighting anymore.
A drone circled low overhead, recording.
My stomach turned over and I pressed my hand to the glass.
The car didn't slow.
I pulled my hand back, swallowed, and looked away.
The stage was similar to my first trial, but the audience had grown exponentially. This time, we weren’t in a line. I was alone. I wondered briefly where the other women were performing.
After I’d read my tablet, I understood why there was no prep time.
There was nothing to practice. Every woman in the Covenant States knew her lineage.
It was one of the two defining rules of your station: your family history as it related to our great nation and your ability to have a male child.
I was from the Middle for both of those reasons.
My dad’s Covenant history, our right to be here, to use the resources the Covenant provided, was dependent on how far back our claim to this country went.
As the radiation had affected all of us, creating a genetic defect that reduced the male population with each new birth—one in every thirty babies was male, to be exact—and no one had any of their former wealth to boost their status, it was decided that whoever got here first deserved it most.
But there was another flaw in that plan: genetic testing. When we’d been forced to rebuild everything nearly from the ground up, genetic testing could only go back one hundred and eighty years.
I stepped onto the stage, resting my hands on skirts wide enough that a strong wind might catch them and blow me away.
“Maryn Veil?”
I turned, swinging, nearly knocking over a microphone stand. “Yes. Sorry.”
A man yanked the mic from its stand and handed it to me. “Probably better if you hold it.”
I nodded.
I stared at him, holding the cold bit of metal in clammy hands.
“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
I blinked.
“Mother above. Did no one—”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Yes. I do.”
He frowned, turning and marching off stage.
I tapped the mic, facing a sea of blurry faces and took a steadying breath. Easy as reciting the alphabet.
“I’m Maryn Veil. Daughter of Joel Veil, born 2082. Living.
“He is the son of Thomas Veil. Born 2046. Died 2105.
“He was the son of Edmund Veil. Born 2026. Died 2047.
“He was the son of William Veil. Born 2005. Died 2026.”
I let my gaze skim the middle crowd, avoiding those in the front who were close enough to make eye contact.
“Four generations of Covenant, and before that, the United States, sons, solidify my right as a citizen of this great nation. I look forward to the day I can restore my father’s honor by giving our country a son as well.”
Light applause sounded, and I curtseyed, crossing the massive stage to hand the mic to the man who had first come out to meet me. The words had done what they needed to. In that moment, I was grateful for Vera’s foresight. In my massive dress, I didn’t feel so small.
***
Wednesday and Thursday came and went in a blur.
I missed my job and I wanted to hear from Ruth.
When Friday finally arrived, I dragged myself to the shower, resting my head against the wall and letting the steaming water ease the tension in my shoulders far longer than we were authorized.
But as I expected, being matched to the President’s son had benefits.
I stepped out, toweling my hair, and froze.
A man’s voice, low but urgent, carried into the hall.
Mom whispered something back.
On silent feet, I moved down the narrow hall, stopping just out of sight.
“It’s just lineage documentation. No blood. No needles.” The man’s voice was soothing now.
“Promise me she’ll be okay.”
“Elaine.”
The silence that followed was swallowed by my drumming heartbeat. I pressed against the wall, trying to calm my breathing.
“She’s in the shower. She’ll hear you.”
“Elaine.”
“Go. Lucen.”
The door clicked open and shut, and I exhaled.
I’d never heard her like that. Voice stripped of softness.
“Maryn?” Mama called from the living room.
I backed up several steps and then marched loudly down the hall. Peeking my head into the room, I rubbed the towel over my hair. “Mama? Did you call me?”
Her eyes were slightly wide, and I had to work to hide my own shock.
She blinked, moving to the kitchen. “Do you want tea before Paul and Vera arrive?”
“Sure.” I moved beside her, pulled cups down from the shelf, and watched her squat, hands trembling as she reached into the back of the cabinets. “Let me get it.”
“No.” She glanced up. “It’s all I have.”
I nodded, unsure if she was talking about the teapot or the hidden letter.
When she had poured our tea, wrapped her teapot safely back away, we sat, sipping in silence.
The door buzzed, and Mama jumped, nearly dropping her cup. She rubbed her hand over her temple. “I’ll take this to my room.”
She stood, slipping behind her door before I could say a word.
I lifted the cup to my lips, savoring the moment. There were things I wanted to ask her.
I set it down.
***
Somehow, I’d been expecting our next event to outdo the last, but it seemed they had run out of fancy houses to host Rite balls in the Upper-Middle.
Ruth waved to Josh, who grinned and waved back across the ballroom.
“He’s selected four matches,” Ruth said behind her hand, her blue ribbon catching the light.
I searched her face.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know how it goes.” She huffed. “You were lucky to be last. Not to have to watch each match selection on the Monday recap. They showed all three this week. Did you see?”
She looked away, scanning the room, not waiting for my reply.
“Ruth.”
Her gaze darted to me. “Go stand with the others,” she ordered, and I reached for her hand.
“Hey. We can—”
“Maryn. I’m fine. I’m happy. I’m his first choice.”
I swallowed, nodding.
She released my hand, and I turned, moving to the center of the room. The light was garish in its intensity, burning my skin, and my mom’s hushed conversation from that morning rushed back to me. I’d turned it over a dozen times in my mind, but I didn’t have an answer. I hated surprises.
“Hey.” I glanced at the girl next to me. Phoebe. It seemed that even if we were no longer required to stand in order, there was some comfort in all this chaos that came from standing in your place.
“Hey.”
“I’m Phoebe.”
“Yeah. I’m—”
“Maryn. We all know who you are.”
I smiled, my gaze dropping.
“Good luck.”
I lifted my eyes, meeting hers. They were blue, like Elias’s, but much darker. Did she know something? Was she finally comfortable talking to me?
“You too.”
The room stilled, and my attention snapped to Elias as guests sidled out of his way.
His steps were slow, measured. True to his word, there were no cameras for this part. Other times, he’d nearly rushed in. I noted the difference and wondered briefly if this was who he was when the world wasn’t watching.
His gaze found mine, and my stomach dropped.
He didn’t move toward me.
He took his time spinning in a circle.
My hand found Phoebe’s, and I squeezed.
She looked down, but squeezed back.
A man darted from the crowd, and my hold on Phoebe’s hand tightened.
He stopped beside Elias, lifting up to whisper something in his ear, and Elias’s gaze darted to me.
Ice raced down my spine.
He nodded, and the man rushed back to the corner.
“Something has just been brought to my attention.”
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. He was staring at me. Why was he staring at me?
Phoebe’s hand tugged free of mine, and she backed away from me.
Then Elias’s gaze moved down the line to someone else.
“It turns out, one of my matches was planted.”
Elias nodded to the dark corner, and men in militia gear rushed forward.
“Adah Stark.”
I looked at the girl in spot five.
Her composure dropped, and she lifted her skirts, running for it.
A man tackled her to the ground, and she screamed and kicked, fighting to get him off her.
She was no match for the man who was clearly one of Elias’s security detail, though, and he pulled her up roughly.
A second man wrapped his arms around her shoulders while the first produced cuffs and fastened them around her wrists.
My gaze snagged on the blue ribbon, forgotten as they trampled it, working to keep her subdued.
“A rebel has infiltrated our walls.”
Gasps and a few cries burst from the room, as everyone moved back several feet.
She fought as though her life depended on freeing herself from the men, her hair falling in her face. Another collective gasp as a patch on the back of her head was exposed. Raw, red skin covered nearly a third of the back of her neck.
The men holding her loosened their grip, but even radiation poisoning wasn’t enough to deter them from their duty.
Her head snapped up, and her eyes found mine. The air left my lungs in a whoosh as I froze, heart racing.
She opened her mouth. “Our worth is not our womb. We will—”
From the dark, Calden Charles materialized, swinging a fist, and her head fell to the side, eyes sliding shut.
My stomach dropped.
Our worth is not our womb.
I clicked my teeth together, air sliding between them as I worked hard to compose my features, remaining in place. The words were still ringing in the space where she'd been standing, and I pressed them flat before they could settle.
More people scattered from the area, making room as the two men dragged the unconscious woman away.
“Well.” Elias’s voice cut through my terror, and I laced my hands in front of my skirts, squeezing. “Tonight is full of surprises.”
Nervous laughter broke some of the tension, and people slowly moved to fill the space where Adah had been.
“I suppose there’s no right time to say it.” Elias clapped his hands together, and my fingers squeezed tighter. “We learned this week that a former Elite was hiding right in front of our faces.”
The women around me turned to stare at one another, and I stared with them.
“Maryn.”
I jumped, gaze returning to Elias.
“Did you think we wouldn’t find out about your father’s past?”
I glanced around.
“Me?”
“Come here.”
Elias held out a hand, and I hesitated before starting toward him.
My steps slowed as I searched his face. Am I about to be eliminated?
My heart was hammering so hard my chest hurt by the time I reached him.
His hand found my back, and some of my nerves settled.
“It’s rare,” he began, turning us in a circle. My throat went dry as the room blurred at the edges. “That an Elite man chooses a wife from the Middle.” He chuckled. “There are risks.”
I dragged in shallow breaths, trying to make sense of his words through the fog in my brain.
We stopped, his hand pressing firmly against my spine. “But it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I looked up sucking in another painful breath as our eyes met.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Maryn’s father was Elite.”