31. Chapter 31
Maryn
Inside was even more beautiful than the outside. A room lined entirely in glass on one side was transformed into a moonlit ball.
What must it be like to grow up with the whole lake outside your window and still want more?
I spun in a slow circle, grudgingly grateful to Vera for the too-tight dress’s fortification above the knee. I had never worn something that hugged the curve of my hips the way it did, and I felt exposed even with fabric that reached the floor.
A whisper of air against the bare skin on my back had me spinning, and I looked into black eyes, devouring every inch of me.
Calden cleared his throat, stepping back. “Would you dance with me?”
My hand was already lifting before I could stop it.
I wrapped my arms over my chest as I coughed out a reply. “I don’t th—”
“Maryn is needed with the other matches.” Elias’s cold voice at my back sent a chill down my spine.
Calden’s gaze never left mine. “Maryn?”
His hand remained outstretched, and I glanced down, chest tightening as I backed up.
Elias’s fingers wrapped around my waist, tugging me toward him until his heat scalded my back.
Calden’s brows flattened into black slashes, and he finally looked past me. “I didn’t realize your matches required permission to dance.”
A low rumble started at my back.
“Why don’t you tell Maryn why you cut her tape short in Trial Four?”
I searched Calden’s face, schooling my expression, but his gaze was intent on Elias now.
“Suppression of information is how you keep people in line.” His eyes narrowed. “No one should know that better than the president’s son.”
Goosebumps raced along my arms as Calden’s attention returned to me. The air in the room was suddenly stifling, the press of these two men too close. Whatever this was, it wasn’t about me anymore.
I steadied myself.
“Elias.” I spun around. “Dance with me?”
His jaw was tight, his eyes daggers that would have skewered anyone other than Calden.
I shuddered, and he glanced down, his face morphing into something softer. “Of course.”
I slid my hand into his and moved past him, tugging him to the center of the dance floor.
His other hand found my waist, but he looked away, out the window, and as the music began, he moved stiffly. My grip tightened around his fingers as we spun, my thighs rubbing together beneath the tight fabric.
“I’m sorry.”
Elias’s gaze snapped to me, and the hard expression was back. I shrank from it, hating the weight of his anger directed at me.
“You should be. You failed.”
The blood drained from my face, my steps faltering, and I nearly tipped sideways.
His fingers dug into my side, his other hand holding me in place, and I steadied myself, inhaling small gasping breaths. Suddenly, the dress was a cage around my lungs, tightening with each inhale.
We continued to move, my feet leaden as he dragged me in circles.
“Breathe, Maryn. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
His words were fuzzy, coming in and out of focus.
Failed. I had failed?
“Maryn, look at me.”
Distantly, I was aware of the song ending, of us stopping. Elias led us off the dance floor to a corner. He knelt until we were eye level.
“Maryn. I’m not eliminating you.”
His words filtered through my foggy brain as I sucked in several more breaths. He looked around the room, then back to me.
Paul was there, waving a hand in my face. “Twelve. Snap out of it. Cameras.” He drew his fingers up on either side of his lips. “Big smile.”
My gaze shot to the cameras in the corners, and I inhaled a long breath, then another.
Elias was back, handing me a cup.
“Maryn. I have to go. Did you hear what I said? Don’t worry.”
I nodded, taking another deep breath.
Elias moved to the center of the room, where the drones swiveled to face him.
Paul shook his head, melting back into the crowd, and I leaned against a marble pillar in my dark corner.
“Under Covenant. One purpose.” Elias said at the end of his speech.
“For the sons we carry forward,” I mumbled.
I scanned the room, breath evening out with each exhale.
Soft fingers ran down my back, and I stilled. They traced a path north, following my spine. My breath caught. I knew without turning who it was. I always knew.
I leaned back, my veins warming even as my pulse slowed.
“What did he say to you?” Calden’s soft words carried from behind the pillar.
I said nothing, pressing against the hand still running up and down my back in soothing lines. I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t stop myself.
“If he threatened you… Because of me—”
“He didn’t.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.”
Something in my chest pulled tight. I wanted to believe him. That was the problem.
My grip on the stem of my glass tightened. “You’ll get me eliminated.”
His fingers stilled.
The room burst into applause.
“Maryn.”
I pushed off the pillar, away from his steadying warmth, and moved to the center of the room to stand beside Rakel.
Elias’s gaze found mine, searching my face. I nodded, and he resumed speaking.
“Trial Eight is unique to each Rite. For mine, I chose collaboration.” His gaze found me again. “To be successful in marriage, a wife must be willing to defer to what’s best for the family. That means, working together rather than for her own gain.”
My stomach dropped.
“We had a clear winner in this week’s trial,” he went on. “Rakel. Come forward.”
His smile was genuine as he held out a hand the way he had for me so many times before.
She stepped toward him, a wide smile painted across her face. She reached the center, wrapping her hand in his, and he spun them.
My hands clasped behind my back as I looked to my left. Sera had left her own cousin to die. Surely that was worse than me doing it. But would Elias really eliminate a Cannon in her own home?
I swallowed, taking a step back as Rakel and Elias launched into a dance. He had promised me he wouldn’t draw out eliminations anymore.
Did that no longer matter? His words came back to me. I’m not eliminating you. Had he lied? So I wouldn’t make a scene.
My vision blurred. I was so close.
The song ended, and Rakel left Elias to stand at the center alone once more.
He raised his hands.
My ribs ached, but drones spun to face us, and I straightened.
“Now, this may be unusual, but,” he moved in a slow circle, “one of my matches was sent home.”
Murmurs erupted around the room, and Elias nodded. “I know. It wasn’t her fault. But it does happen on occasion.” He chuckled nervously. “She was barren.”
Small cries and gasps from the audience—Elias raised his hands again.
“That’s why I won’t be eliminating anyone this week.”
A small shuddering breath escaped me, and I thanked Vera for the hundredth time since this Rite began because the dress was the only thing keeping me upright as the room burst into polite applause.