Chapter 28
chapter
twenty-eight
Haven
It is the night of the engagement party.
The car ride to Ender’s house is chillingly silent. I refuse to engage with him after what he put me through yesterday. It’s a wonder he can look so fresh-eyed and normal after forcing me to kill someone.
“You can’t ignore me forever,” Ender says.
He clearly doesn’t know how spiteful I can be.
He sighs, a deep, exaggerated sound when I don’t respond.
“You are a soldier, Warrick,” he says flatly. “And soldiers kill.”
“Not unnecessarily,” I say sharply. “Not needlessly.”
“You are far older than I was when I made my first kill,” he says, between clenched teeth. “You should consider yourself lucky.”
“Lucky?” I ask bitterly. “You want me to thank you for turning us into unfeeling, callous weapons?”
His gloved fingers curl around the steering wheel. And a vein thumps rapidly on his jaw.
“What did you expect?” Ender asks. “A fairytale?”
“You’re going to make an excellent Supreme Director one day,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my words. “Just like your father.”
His eyes flit towards me, cold and angry. He doesn’t like that I’ve compared him to his father.
“The words you speak are treason,” he says. “If I shoved my gun down your throat and shot you right now, it would be within my rights.”
“What’s stopping you?” I ask, staring boredly out my window. “Either do it or shut up.”
“Believe me, I want to,” Ender growls.
The car pulls into the driveway, tires screeching against the asphalt. Ender barely waits for the engine to settle before he steps out of the vehicle and shuts the door behind him. He vanishes down the side path, avoiding the entrance as usual.
I escort myself to the front, glad to see my sister, but annoyed by the circumstances. I’m going to have to be near Ender all night and pretend that I am nothing more than his dutiful wife. It will eat away at me like poison to keep up the facade.
I ring the doorbell. The housekeeper looks startled by my appearance, before she seems to recall that I am the twin of her mistress and not Mercy.
The maids race through the foyer on sprightly legs. Some carry boxes of candy-colored pastries, and others hold feather dusters like swords, drifting them along the walnut banisters until it shines.
There is a short woman in a grape-colored suit with a clipboard, barking orders at the staff, and trailing after them like a ghost. Wrinkles line her mouth, and her beady eyes flare in displeasure as she marches across the house like a drill sergeant.
Clipped remarks escape her as she critiques the appearance of the servant’s white uniform and ushers the caterers into the kitchen.
This must be the assistant that Mercy said was hired to help with the preparations for both the engagement party and the wedding celebration.
Her cloud-gray eyes fall on me, and her mouth drops in surprise.
“Mercy Warrick, is it?” she asks, before I have a chance to speak. “You both look eerily alike.”
“That’s what being a twin means,” I say, unable to resist being a smartass.
Mercy doesn’t like this lady. Not one bit. So, I immediately dislike her.
“You’re late,” she says. Her voice is as sharp as a whip.
“My name is Tasmin. I was hired to coordinate all the events associated with the wedding. Your dress is in your sister’s room.
She has refused to let the professionals style her hair and do her makeup.
Perhaps, you can talk some sense into her. ”
Tamsin talks a mile a minute. Her words fly past me like a bird hunting its prey.
She quickly climbs upstairs and knocks forcefully once we reach my sister’s bedroom.
The door cracks open, the slightest bit, and Mercy pops her head out. She looks half-afraid at the sight of the woman, but when she notices me, her face eases.
“Can we have a moment alone?” I ask Tamsin, who lurks in the hallway.
For a second, I fear she will refuse, but after what feels like an eternity, she nods.
“I’ll be back to check if you’re ready in twenty minutes,” she warns. “People will be here soon.”
Mercy grabs my wrist and yanks me inside, locking the door shut behind me.
“You’re late,” she says, chewing her lip. “What took so long?”
I hesitate. I’ve been in bad shape since the Kaia ordeal.
Last night, when I closed my eyes, I saw Kaia’s pleading, pain-stricken face, and I awoke to the recoil of the gun.
I may not have known or even liked the girl, but I put a bullet in her head rather than defy Ender’s orders.
And to make matters worse, she is not the first person I killed.
I promised Prue that I would help the Resistance, but with each day that passes, I worry that I’m losing a piece of myself.
Terror fills me at the thought of what Ender will put us through next.
He is a cold-blooded killer. One who fears nothing and no one.
“Training ran longer than expected.” I lie. I can’t tell her how sick I was, how I almost stayed behind. “What’s that woman’s deal?”
I can’t confide in Mercy about the happenings of the Forge. She doesn’t deserve to feel a lick of guilt for switching places with me when it was my idea.
“Tamsin is the worst.” Mercy groans. “Ender hired her to punish me. I’m certain of it.”
I giggle, collapsing on her bed and sinking into the thick mattress.
“Sounds like Ender,” I say. “Are we sure Tamsin isn’t his mother?”
Mercy snickers and grabs my hand, forcing me to sit upright.
“We don’t have much time,” she says. “You have to get into your dress.”
I stare warily at the monstrosity that is hanging from a mannequin. It’s a cream ball gown with a lace bodice decorated with pearls. The skirt is made of a tulle so thick I fear it will drown me. It is a contraption. One that may very well be the end of me.
“No.” I shake my head. “No way.”
“It’s lovely,” Mercy says.
“It doesn’t have a slit, and my breasts are fully covered.”
“It’s an engagement party, and you’re pretending to be me, remember?” Mercy pauses. “No, you’re pretending to be you, pretending to be me, pretending to be you?”
“My head hurts,” I say.
Mercy sits beside me. “Me too.”
“Do you think we can fool everyone?” I ask. “Some of the Gifted children from the Forge might show up. A few of them are my friends.”
I brief her on all the new characters in my life and describe them carefully, so she won’t be alarmed when they approach her.
“Ender is clever,” Mercy says. “You’ll have to be careful.”
Ender is more keen-eyed than everyone else. It’ll be hard to fool him, especially because we spend so much time training together. It will be challenging, swallowing back my disdain for him. But I will have to try.
“You too,” I say. “Let’s not speak to him if we can help it.”
“Good thinking.”
It took Tamsin, Mercy, and two maids to stuff me into that atrocity. By the time the corset is tied, I can barely breathe.
“Help me.” I mouth to Mercy, who stands in the corner in a beautiful jade silk dress that flows like water down her slim frame, and that makes her eyes pop. I’m envious of how she looks. I would kill to be wearing that dress, and not this death-trap.
Mercy giggles at my distress, which is quite rude of her.
To get Tamsin off our backs, I allowed the hairstylist to do an intricate updo but refused to wear any makeup.
My midnight-black hair is coiled above my head in a careful twist, two dark tendrils escaping to frame my face.
My bangs have gotten longer over the past few months, and the edges now scrape across my jaw.
Tamsin vanishes to call Ender to escort me.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My olive-toned face stares back at me.
Dark liner elegantly frames my eyes, and my brows have been threaded and combed.
My breasts are pushed high together, filling out the bodice of the dress.
Pearls glitter under the dim light, casting fractured color across the room.
The skirt flares around my hips, dripping like a waterfall.
“You look beautiful,” Mercy says with a soft smile. Her fingers cup my cheek. “Even if I fear for you every hour of the day at that place, I am so proud of the person you’ve become, and I know if Mother were here, she would be too. You are the bravest person I know.”
My throat tightens. I wrap my arms around her, clutching her tight.
“I love you, Mercy,” I whisper.
A knock sounds before the door cracks open.
Ender steps inside, adjusting his cuffs.
As much as I detest him, he looks rather spectacular in that suit.
The black fabric molds to his broad shoulders and his trim waist. His raven hair is slicked back with gel, except for one defiant lock that slips loose and falls dreamily into his eyes.
He is undeniably beautiful.
The breath catches in my lungs when he looks up, but it isn’t me who captures his attention first—it is Mercy.
His mouth tilts upward, and Mercy glances at me, confused. He’s kind of smiling at her. Smiling might be a generous descriptor, but his lips lift of their own accord, free of their usual mockery or arrogance. And that one dimple appears.
Ender follows her gaze to me, and whatever warmth that had been there disappears. Something shifts in my chest. It’s too painful and raw to describe. That sensation increases when he offers me his elbow and asks in a detached tone. “Ready?”
I nod, unable to speak.
I can’t help but think that the first time Ender smiled at me, I wasn’t even on the receiving end of it. Why do I even care? He made me hurt someone. He is a terrible person.
I’m so disturbed by my reaction to this entire ordeal that I skip a step and stumble.
Ender’s hands wrap around my waist, catching me effortlessly. He yanks me to his chest, stopping me from breaking my neck. My fingers tighten around his tense shoulders, and my heart drums like a galloping horse.
Ender’s fingers graze my back. I’m not certain what has distracted him, but it takes him a few seconds to release me. Our breaths collide as I struggle to recover. His proximity short-circuits my brain. Slowly, I descend a step, so we’re not so close.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
He’s staring at me oddly. Head tilted like he is solving a complex puzzle.
“Haven?” he asks, confused.
I swallow. “Who else would it be?”
Ender’s hand lifts. He brushes the loose tendrils from my cheek and holds them there, fingers lingering as he studies my face for several long seconds.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He couldn’t know. No one could tell us apart. Not by our appearance, at least.
“Haven,” he repeats softly.
“Did you hit your head?” I ask. “Why do you keep repeating my name?”
He straightens, fixing the lapels of his suit.
“No reason,” he says. “Let us go celebrate our engagement.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
I expect him to reach for my arm like before, but he surprises me when he slides his hand around my waist, drawing me closer to him. I can smell his scent of mint and fresh air combined with his spicy cologne.
Tamsin turned the heart of Ender’s house into a great hall.
The chandelier twinkles, casting its prismatic light across the room.
Glass vases hold bouquets of primroses and orchids.
The dark oak floors shine like frozen water.
Laughter rises and falls, following the tune of the orchestra.
Women dressed in chiffon and satins drift along the floor, while men in polished suits and starched white undershirts hang onto their every word.
Cameras flash as eager reporters attempt to capture the upper-class socializing at the most important event of the year. They are crowding around someone who just entered through the double doors, and they miss us when we slip inside.
I step a little closer to Ender, slightly daunted by the strange faces. Unlike Mercy, I never attended dinner parties like this. I feel completely out of place.
“Nervous?” Ender asks.
I open my mouth to deny it, before I realize I am Mercy. It won’t feel like a weakness to confess the truth to him. He isn’t my commanding officer right now.
“A little,” I admit.
“I can do all the socializing,” Ender offers. “You can smile and nod as needed.”
His offer shocks me. He’s being surprisingly amiable. I wonder if he is like this with my sister. Maybe he’s only a giant, overbearing ass around me.
“You can socialize?” I ask.
“I can pretend,” he corrects. “I can lie.”
“A perfect politician,” I say with a tight smile. “Your father must be proud.”
Ender stiffens, and his steps falter. Similar to his reaction in the car, he doesn’t take well to being compared to his father.
I only saw Ender a few times on the public screens standing by the Supreme Director.
The first was the day his father reversed the ruling that protected the Children of Treason.
It sickens me that the Supreme Director stood there and confirmed that they would be killing young kids.
It is worse that the people did not riot, that they clapped and smiled, their faces powdered and their hair groomed to perfection.
The citizens who dwelled closest to the capital had nothing to fear; they did not care about the rebels or the impoverished.
They lived in glass cages and grew fat on the labor of the Commons.
And now they were here, sipping their wine, carrying their gold-painted lighters to slip out to the balcony for smoking breaks.
“Let’s just get this night over with,” Ender says rigidly.
And then he leads me into the den of wolves.