by F. F. John
Titan Carre slides up to his wife’s side. His index finger, which wears the longest talon ring of them all, grazes the valley of her clavicle. “Now, now, dear, remember we are not to sway the hostess in any way? Those were the rules announced during the ceremony. We wouldn’t want to cause Loic any problems.” His expression towards me is apologetic. “My wife has always been forward, it’s part of the reason I insisted on a pairing with her.”
“Oh, not to worry. She’s doing what any mother would.” I drop to a pleasant whisper. “This will stay between us.”
“Wonderful.” His eyes slide across the room and narrow before widening. “Titan Lebier!” Shoes tap against the polished floor as he and his entourage walk off.
Bel materializes by my side, hooking her arm with mine. “Pretend to be happy, Neat.” She leads me to the back of the room, which is thankfully empty.
“I am happy,” I counter. “It’s written on my face.”
“I wonder if Invier is.” She lifts two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hands one to me. While she drinks the golden nectar in one swift swill, I peer into the disappearing bubbles floating through my glass.
The mention of his name causes my cheeks to warm and my scalp to itch. The look he had on his face when he stood in line with the other competitors. He looked lost, sad, then enraged. Guilt crawls within me the same way it did during the opening ceremony.
“I had to get him into the competition. There’d be no chance for us if I hadn’t.” Listening to myself, my words sound hollow. If I can’t persuade myself I made the right decision, how will I sway Invier?
“You can’t force the man you love to pick you. Not like this anyway. You should have given him a choice.”
“He didn’t give us a choice,” I say, keeping my voice low. “I asked him to participate and he said no. What was I supposed to do? Sit there and let the love of my life slip through my fingers? I had to do something”
Another waiter glides by and Bel waits until he’s out of earshot before continuing. “I don’t know about this,” she says slowly.
Panic ripples through my stomach and I turn my back to the guests for more privacy. “I went too far,” I say, feeling deflated. “I think he’s going to hate me.” I fight back the tears threatening to spill.
She clamps her hand over mine. “Look, I won’t lie to you, I don’t know if your scheming will work out this time, but whatever the case, I’ll be right by your side.”
Her words are more comforting than I care to admit. Pulling in a strained breath, I hold it taut once it reaches its apex. I did the right thing. It was this, or no us. Seconds pass and I’m prepared to speak again. “Thanks, Bel.”
She squeezes my hand before letting go and I slump into the table’s edge, the room’s many happy faces making me sour. Fortunately, I’ll leave before the participants arrive. Portan’s plan is for them to spend a little time with their families prior to saying their goodbyes and I’m not to be present. Thank goodness because I can’t take another one of Invier’s dark looks.
I’ll find him tomorrow and assure him that this was the best thing for us. This competition is the best way to ensure we end up together—something we agree that we want. A pairing between a second-ranked scioness and a twentieth-ranked scion is unheard of. To counter that reality and gain Father’s approval, this Pursual is the way to go.
Scanning the room, I note the families present and remind myself that I could never be romantically involved with any of their children. Not even for profit’s sake. I love someone and he loves me. We’ll surely be paired by the end of this competition. I believe it completely.
Moving on from my fears, I ask Bel about her restorer classes. She only has a few left and once completed, she’ll follow in the family business of healing people and preserving the youth and beauty of the wealthy. She confesses she’s been skipping her classes.
“I’m tired of sitting in rooms all day,” she says with a sigh.
“If you don’t graduate, I’ll have to find some random restorer to take care of my health needs. You know I need you to keep me looking fabulous eighty years from now.”
Her face hardens. “My goal in life isn’t to be your personal restorer, Neith.”
“Sure, Belly,” I quip with an eye roll.
She glowers at me but says nothing.
“Here comes your future partner. You may want to watch those frown lines.” I sip on my champagne.
Acri sidesteps a small group of ladies to approach us. His family controls the crucial off-world transportation industry and a union between families would be profitable. That reality sweetens the deal as he clearly only has eyes for Bel. She sidles up to him and he takes her hand with a smile. Retracing his steps, they join their fathers who stand surrounded by family members.
“Ah, there you are, Scioness Reffour!”
It’s Invier’s mother. I curtsy but she grabs me in a vanilla-fragranced hug. Invier could suffer if anyone takes exception to this embrace. Another nome could argue it exemplifies bias towards the Florans. With enough effort, that could result in his disqualification from the competition.
When she tries to let me go, her yellow gown snags on some of the tiny crystals on my dress. I freeze as she struggles to detach herself but the seconds stretch on and after a while, I start to worry. The longer this takes, the more likely I’ll give someone ammunition to use against Invier. I yank myself away from her. Not minding if I rip my dress, my main concern is that if Invier is eliminated, I’ll never forgive myself. Or her.
She checks her gown for damage before stretching to her full length. We’re about the same height. Where my eyes are a hazel-gray, hers are a rich amber. Her thin nose sits in a round face with a bright red lip. Every hair in place and she’s impeccable from head to toe.
“We are so happy to be here, Scioness. Thank you for the invitation.” I’m drawn to the freckles on her nose. Now I know where Invier got his from. “We had no idea he would compete, mind you. After all, he said he didn’t want to take part and …”
She drones on and I tune out. Even though I knew he didn’t want to participate, hearing his mother say it hurts.
“Are you okay, Scioness?”
She must have noticed my glazed expression. To cover up for the faux pas I cough and eventually reply. “Yes, of course, Titane.”
“I’m glad.” Her fan goes back and forth in a vicious dance and I step out of its way. Invier once mentioned that his mother tends to the dramatic, and the unnecessary hand-held fan in a room with excellent temperature control qualifies as exactly that.
She’s still fanning herself when I cough again. This conversation needs to come to an end.
“Yes, well, I wanted to say we are happy our scion is a part of your Pursual.”
Placing my hand on her free hand, I say, “I wish your family the best of luck, Titane Floran.”
She dips her head and sways off into the crowd, shoulders high. I savor the peace of her absence and lean against the table yet again. My gaze returns to Bel and Acri. All smiles, they seem to be having an amicable discussion.
Lance Singer bumps into Acri and saunters by, without apologizing. Even though he’s only a Doge and won’t become his family’s Titan, he acts as if he’s royalty. I blame the many women who have flung themselves at him over the years.
Although he was recently paired with Scioness Enyama Damil, I have it on good authority he continues to sleep with Dogenne Adaora Opitz. Nome Opitz believes they can derail the pairing before it becomes a full-fledged marital union. Are the Singers and Opitzs aware that precious Lance has a baby on the way with a younger girl from a family in the Lower Houses?
Enyama stalks past Bel with eyes trained on Lance. She must know he’s unfaithful. She may be portly, but she’s no dummy. I’m sure she understands she must be married and not simply paired to elevate her family’s station. His family sits ninth in the rankings and her’s is eleventh. Only a marriage will strengthen the Damils eno
ugh to hold off the Ateguns who will do anything to get one step closer to the top ten.
And I understand the desire. Improving the family’s standing is the ultimate duty of every nome member. No matter the cost. Father and Portan have drilled that message into me since childhood.
Enyama is suddenly moving with uncharacteristic speed. Yes, there’s Lance and he’s approaching none other than Adaora. Her warm smile soon pales and she hustles away from the large group she was with. She must have noted Enyama on Lance’s trail.
“What’s so entertaining?”
While waiting for the love triangle to implode, I didn’t notice Father’s approach. Pushing off the table, I straighten and smooth my gown.
A waiter floats by with drinks and Father takes one for himself, while I wave off the tray. The waiter moves on to a group of loud young men nearby, who snatch up all the tray’s contents.
We observe our guests. Several seconds tick by and I think it’s going to be a quiet moment between us without questions, a lecture or some ‘learning opportunity’. Relief comes over me when he says, “Titane Floran seemed surprised to have her son in the competition.”
My heart stops. I’d hoped he would have been too distracted by everything else in the Pavilion but of course, he didn’t miss Titane Floran’s reaction when Invier’s name was called. He must have noticed Invier’s dumbfounded expression, as well.
“Yes, Father. Scion Floran never told his family about his plans. He also submitted himself at the last minute and didn’t expect to be included.” My response comes out as practiced. I also told Portan to give a similar response. “I hope you don’t object?”
His eyes never leave the people gathered ahead of us. “It would definitely help his family’s situation if he won, but he won’t.” He strolls off and is soon enveloped by the crowd.
Chapter Five
Invier
I’d hoped sleep would temper my raging emotions, but I woke angrier than I was last night. With all that energy, I decide to go for an early jog. Better to maintain normalcy if I’m going to find a way out of my predicament. The run is doing little to calm me.
Still, I push on, faster than my usual pace. My chest clenches, hungry for more oxygen to propel me over the grounds. Arms pumping, I speed past a sweet fragrance that reminds me of Neith.
I ignore my body’s silent howling as I sail past more trees and flowers. Winded, I suck in air for my hammering heart, not slowing. Rounding a corner, my determination is rewarded by a glowing sun on a canvas of soft blues, purples, and orange. The beauty doesn’t abate the sting of Neith’s deception. I need to talk to her. But, how? Participants aren’t permitted to go to her house.
Shutting my eyes, I force air into my lungs to slow my heartbeat. Then an idea comes to mind. It might be easier to speak to her than I thought.
I follow the garden’s main pathway until I reach a verdant grass wall and slide into a narrow vertical opening behind it that wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer. The last time I saw this camouflaged entrance was on the night of Neith’s coming of age party when she brought me here. If I’m lucky, I might catch her.
And catch her I do.
***
The hidden oasis, which is the term I’ve associated with this place since my first time here. Neith sits on a wrought-iron bench by the water’s edge. Before her is a pond surrounded by wildflowers of various bright hues. Several white geese float on the water. One of them flaps its wings before lifting its beak in a silent prayer to the sky.
The scene is serene and it should have a calming effect on me. Instead, I think back to Portan calling my name last night. My throat constricts and I storm over as she wheels around. Her lips part but soon shut and she blinks nervously. Finally, she says “I’m sorry, Invier, I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You made me look like a fool. I told you I didn’t want to be in your Pursual!”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she repeats herself and rises to her feet. “You wouldn’t even consider it!”
I rake a hand through my hair. I can’t believe she doesn’t realize there’s no reasonable explanation for what she did.
“It was my decision to make. Not yours,” I say, the anger making my words sound brittle.
“Really? You made a choice for both of us when you dismissed the Pursual as a way to be together.” She says, pointing an accusatory finger at me.
“Yes, the Pursual is a way for us to be together, not the way.” I ball my hands into fists. “I could have asked your father for your hand like I wanted to.”
“He would have never agreed.”
“But you don’t know that for—”
“Yes, I do!” She angles her body away from me. Slender shoulders rise and her head sways from side to side causing her black curls to dance. A tight knot settles in my stomach. Whatever she’s about to say won’t be good.
When she faces me, cold hazel-gray irises stare back at me. “I’ve been telling you that my father would never approve of you but you refuse to listen. He told me your family wouldn’t make for a good business match.”
“You spoke to your father about us?”
“Not exactly, but I posed a hypothetical question and trust me, he’s only focused on profit. You guys don’t measure up.”
“Then, why the competition? Why didn’t he pair you with a scion of his choice?” I rub my face to hide my disappointment. If Neith’s father thinks my family and I aren’t good enough, then this entire farce won’t make a difference.
She rubs her hands on her black pants. “According to Portan, he almost did but that’s another story. I’m lucky I had a chance to suggest a Pursual. It took some convincing, but he liked the idea of a unique pairing that would bring us positive attention.”
“This is ridiculous,” I mumble.
“Please, believe me. I had no choice. It was either a Pursual, and give us a chance at being together, or a traditional pairing which would guarantee that you and I have no future.”
No future. At no point have I ever imagined that Neith and I wouldn’t spend our lives together. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her at a shoe store. My mom dragged me along and for once, it was a good thing. The minute Neith walked in, I knew I needed to be with her. Guilt sips into my soul and I’m disgusted with myself. I’ve been so upset about being betrayed and overlooked that she’s doing the best for us.
My anger deflates but a small voice creeps into my mind. It’s the voice of doubt and its tenor increases. Is it worth it to ignore your opposition to this attitude of making relationships about money and not what’s important?
The thought of her being with someone else slashes my insides. Now is not the time to ignore this chance to be with her. Besides, my family was pleased when my name was announced. I grip my head with my hands. As much as I might have good reasons to walk away from the competition, there are even more reasons to stay. I let out a labored sigh and release my head to see her eyes watering. A tear forms on her lower lash. One blink later and it lands on her cheek. It rolls past her upper lip and I can’t keep away any longer.
My kiss is harsh and full of the residual rage lingering within me. She accepts it, collapsing into me. I press my hand into the small of her back and allow time to pass in our embrace.
“Sorry,” she mumbles and her breath hitches. My lips meet hers again but this time, in a soft kiss. An ache flashes through me. I can’t imagine anyone else having this with her. Her warm lips command me to squeeze out any remaining space between us as I crush her to me. She continues to mutter apologies through our wet kisses. I pull away to kiss tear drops from her face.
She sniffs. “I’m going to find a way to make sure you win. I’ll make Portan tell me …”
I recoil from her and her eyes widen in confusion.
“Did you just tell me you’re going to make sure I win?”
“I … I …”
“You …” my words fail me and I pause to steady my breath.
“You’ve already got me in the competition and now you want me to cheat?”
“It wouldn’t be cheating.”
I further retreat from her. “‘It wouldn’t be cheating?’ Are you listening to yourself?” That questioning voice is loud once more. She wants to be with me but on her terms. In a way that would crush my spirit and the essence of who I am. Is that what real love is? Would real love require I abandon my entire moral compass for someone who doesn’t think I’m enough?
“Keep it down, Invier. Someone might hear us.” Her hands are on my chest. The feel of her should be pleasant. Now, it stings. “It wouldn’t be cheating,” she whispers.
Again, I back away from her.
“You’ve lost your mind!”