Chapter 30
chapter
thirty
Haven
Dinner is a lavish affair. Platters of roasted duck glazed with a blackcurrant syrup sit on marble plates.
Pears and cantaloupes are carved with precision, their pastel flesh molded into various forest creatures like swans and bears.
Candied nuts and iridescent jellies are stacked on a cart alongside flaky pastries.
Our initials are pinned to each dessert, wrapped in edible gold flakes.
It is excessive and unbearable.
Ender and I eat in silence. After those terrible encounters with the men who raised us, the mood has been rather somber.
Ender’s mind is far from reach. For one split second, I think about cheering him up, but I discard the idea as quickly as it appears.
Tonight has made me realize that my sister and Ender are unlikely allies.
I would even go so far as to say that they may even be friends.
For some foolish reason, this knowledge upsets me. I can’t tell if I am envious that she gets to see this side of him or betrayed that she didn’t confide in me. I would have supported her. She deserves to be happy. Even if it is with the worst person alive.
I stab my fork into the closest grape, spearing it like a fish out of water.
“Easy,” Ender drawls. “It’s not going to run away.”
“Just picturing your head,” I mutter.
“What was that?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say sweetly.
His eyes narrow, but he thankfully doesn’t press the point. Mercy would not threaten him with bodily harm.
The orchestra begins a lively tune, right when we put down our cutlery. Ender offers me his hand, and I reluctantly take it. All this touching has been distracting. The entire night, his hand has remained on my waist or folded tightly in my palm. It confuses and comforts me.
The guests circle the floor, carrying flutes of wine and gazing at us in interest.
“We get First Dance,” Ender says, leading me to the center of the room.
“No,” I say, digging my feet in. I am a terrible dancer. “Maybe your moth—”
Ender does not listen to my protests and continues to haul me to the floor.
“Let go of me!” I say between clenched teeth.
“Don’t make a scene,” he hisses.
“You’re the one forcing me to dance against my will.”
“It is tradition.”
“I don’t give a damn about tradition,” I say. An idea strikes me. “Oh, look, it’s a bird.”
Ender glances to the ceiling, and I make use of his loosened grip to dash into the crowd. His arms wrap around me before I make it far, drawing me back into his embrace.
“Nice try,” he says. “You’re not fast enough.”
“I can’t believe you fell for that. You’re so stupid.”
Ender’s mouth tightens in displeasure. Even he can’t believe it worked.
His hand settles on my waist as if it belongs there. His touch is firm, and for a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.
“Unhand me,” I whisper. “Please, Vale. Don’t make me do this.”
Ender leans in, his mouth close enough that his words warm my skin. “I’ll guide you. I promise I won’t let you make a fool of yourself.”
I glare up at him. “You’re a monster.”
“And yet,” he says softly, “here you are accepting my offer.”
“I have no choice in this, and you know it.”
Ender’s perfect mouth tilts in amusement. His eyes are sparkling.
A stark contrast to how reserved and withdrawn he was a few minutes ago.
The music swells, and a soft, longing tune fills the room.
Couples part to make space for us, a ripple of attention following in our wake.
The pressure is suffocating; my lungs constrict painfully, noticing all the eyes on me.
I can see Mercy watching us. Beside her are Spider and Rei.
Knox and Flint remain at the table, stuffing their faces with food.
The Supreme Director is watching along with his perfect wife. The entire room is focused on us. I hate this.
Ender places one hand on my back, just below my shoulder blades. His other finds mine, fingers warm, calloused in a way that comforts me. He doesn’t pull me close immediately.
“Are you ready?”
“Does it matter if I am?”
“I suppose not.”
He moves, smooth and fluid. It’s a wonder someone as tall and large as Ender can shift so gracefully. I can feel the heat of his body and the muscles concealed by his suit. A flush crawls up my throat, staining my cheeks.
“You’re doing great,” he says softly.
His hand guides me, steady as a compass needle. I hate that it feels natural. I hate that it feels good.
“I’m in my own personal nightmare right now.”
“You’re so dramatic,” Ender says, with a shake of his head.
He spins me, my skirt billowing with the sudden movement.
The room blurs for a second, then snaps back into focus.
He catches me with a practiced ease, his arm firm around my waist. The move draws us closer together.
Every inch of my body is plastered to his.
His eyes are pale and intent as they peer into my soul.
And then it drops, so suddenly, and unexpectedly that it makes my breath stutter. It lands on my mouth.
For a moment, I think I am hallucinating, there is no way that Ender Vale feels any bit of desire towards me. I am harsh, abrasive, and severe. There is nothing about me that could ever tempt a man like him. We are opposites in every way that counts.
And then I remember who I am, where I am.
I take a step back, averting my gaze. I feel a strange sensation in my belly.
I am my sister. I am the girl he has been stuck with for the past few months. The one who doesn’t insult and belittle him or shoot him, for that matter. Mercy is kind and gentle. I can see why he would grow fond of her. The lust in his eyes is not for me; it is for her.
I clear my throat and blurt out the first thing I can think of to ease the tension.
“So,” I say. “Endymion? That’s a mouthful.”
“Don’t start,” he warns.
“I didn’t know that is what Ender stands for.”
“It’s not,” he grumbles. “I picked my own name because my father has terrible taste.”
“Endymion,” I say teasingly.
Ender dips me. The step is sudden and deliberate. My heart races as my hair nearly grazes the floor. But when he lifts me, there is a satisfied smile on his face, revealing his bright white teeth.
He steadies me instantly, forehead nearly touching mine. The air is thick, almost unbreathable. It feels like we’re the only people in the room. I’m acutely aware of him, the heat of his palm, the strength in his frame, the way his breath mirrors mine.
If I leaned in, just slightly, our mouths would touch. I pull back abruptly, cursing myself mentally for being so weak. He is not mine. And I don’t want him to be; he is a horrible person. A fact I seem to have forgotten after a handful of hours, pretending to be his loving wife.
“My father chose the name,” he explains. “I wanted something that was mine.”
“Ender suits you,” I admit. “It fits.”
The song ends with a handful of polite applause.
Ender bows with exaggerated flourish, then offers his arm to guide me away from the center.
People begin to drift to the floor now that we’ve completed our dance.
It feels nice to be ignored again. I spot Clover by the door; her eyes watch us with fury.
She spins on her heels, and I feel a burst of sympathy for her.
I cannot imagine what it is like to watch the person you love marry someone else.
“Tradition complete,” Ender says. “And would you look at that, you survived.”
“Barely,” I murmur.
It was strangely intimate dancing with him, just then. Even though the room was full of people, it felt like we were all alone.
“May I have the next dance?”
My eyes widen in surprise. I hadn’t been expecting to see Grayson, but it’s nice to see a friendly face. He looks rather dashing in his gray suit, and his usually tousled hair has been wrangled into a neat style that suits him. A cheeky smile pulls at his mouth.
“Gray,” I exclaim. “You’re here.”
“As if I would miss it,” he says.
“Did your father come?” I ask, peering over his shoulder. “Please, say yes.”
I miss Reed Sullivan, my stand-in father. It’s been months since I last saw him.
“No, but he bought you some gifts for not setting your husband on fire,” Grayson says. His eyes shift towards Ender. “Do you mind?”
“I’m afraid she’s occupied.”
Ender’s arm slides around my waist, drawing me close to his chest. He’s behaving rather oddly. He really is attached to my sister. I try to step away from him, uncomfortable by the thought.
I want to speak with Grayson. To someone I trust. Even though I’ve found friends in Sora, Spider, Flint, and even Rei, no one knows me quite like Grayson does.
He was there for me during the most difficult years of my life, after I lost my mother.
He let me crawl into his bed and cry on his chest anytime a nightmare roused me.
“It’ll be a moment,” Grayson says. “I just want to congratulate her.”
“You may do so in my presence,” Ender says in a stern tone that brokers no argument.
Grayson gives me an exasperated look. One that says, ‘can you believe this guy?’
“Mercy, is over there,” Ender says, pointing to where my sister stands. “You were all over her a few days ago. Don’t tell me you have a thing for both sisters?”
Ender’s eyes shine with cruelty as he takes a giant step forward.
“Which one do you want, Sullivan?” Ender asks. “Mercy or my wife?”
“Vale,” I warn. “You’re being an ass.”
“Which one do you want?” Grayson retorts. “I can’t speak to Mercy when you’re around, and now it’s Haven too?”
Ender takes another menacing step forward.
“You can’t speak to Haven. You can’t speak to my wife,” Ender clarifies. “Does your thick-head understand that?”
Anger spikes through my veins like poison.
“You don’t decide who I can and can’t speak with, Vale,” I say in a clipped tone. “I am dancing with Grayson whether you like it or not.”