by D. S. Murphy
Suddenly, my mind flashed to a set of mesmerizing blue eyes, wondering what it would be like to kiss the lips they belonged to. I blushed at the thought. Before today, I’d been terrified of the elite, but I’d never met one like Damien before. And the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about him was seriously confusing. What did that mean for whatever I felt about Trev? I’d known him my whole life, and I was comparing him to someone I’d only known a day. As I drifted into a fitful dreams of soft lips and blue skies, I was no longer entirely sure I wanted to be overlooked at the choosing.
3
My mother surprised me in the morning with a parcel on the foot of my bed, wrapped with twine. Inside was a new gown, in lightweight scarlet fabric that felt like air. It must have taken her years to save up for it. And the dress wasn’t the only surprise—from downstairs I could smell bacon and coffee. When my father was alive, we’d have them every week before renewal, but it had been months since mom could afford to make what she called a proper breakfast. She must have traded some of the deer meat.
I let the scents pull me downstairs. My mom had a frantic smile, which was both excited and nervous. She piled food onto my plate and set me down by my brother and sister. Thankfully, nobody felt like talking about the ceremony. My brother was old enough to know that it meant I might be leaving, and he seemed sullen. My sister was too young to worry about the future, and was still buzzing from last night’s festivities, and counting up all the hard candies she’d been given.
After breakfast, mom filled the tub with buckets of hot water so I could soak, and helped me try on the dress. The smooth fabric fit like a second skin, but was so light it made me feel naked and exposed. I didn’t have any fancy shoes like I’d seen Jessica wear, so I put on a pair of leather sandals instead of my usual boots. Mom frowned at the scrape on my cheek and the bruises on my arm. She tried to cover them up with an old jar of foundation.
“You couldn’t go a week without hurting yourself, could you?”
“I didn’t hear you complaining when I brought home the deer last night,” I snapped.
“I know,” she sighed. “It hasn’t been easy since your father died. I just wanted this day to be perfect for you. It’s a big moment, possibly the biggest in your life.”
“Thanks,” I said. “No pressure or anything. I don’t even know if I want this.”
“Luckily, it’s not up to you. We have a lot of blessings in Algrave, but our safety comes with sacrifice. Whatever happens, we’re proud of you,” my mom said, as she was fixing up my hair. “You’ve grown up into a beautiful young woman, I know your father would be proud.”
She hugged me and I bit back a tear, then before I knew it we were out the door heading towards the front gates around with the rest of our neighbors. Amber found me in the crowd and grabbed my hand. She was also dressed up, more so than I’d ever seen her, in a purple dress with sequins. The crowds parted around us as we made it to the front to watch the elites arrive with their vehicles. I’d seen the procession before of course, but always from the crowd. This year would be different. As one of the girls who turned seventeen in the past year, I would be called up on stage.
Only a few would be chosen. There were far more commons than elites, and the elites had dozens of other compounds to visit in this region. They didn’t have to choose this year, either—they had a ten year period in which to make their selection. Because the elites lived so long, they were also allowed to pick a new partner every ten years. There would be a one-month trial period before a formal ceremony in the capital, and then a ten-year partnership. After that, they’d either turn their partners into an elite, in what they called an ascension ceremony, keep them on as human mates, or send them back to their families.
“Over one-hundred years ago, mankind was dying.” The crowd hushed as the voice thundered over the crowd. “Their violence and bloodlust had caused centuries of war. Nuclear conflict scorched the skies, killing billions. Genetically engineered pathogens were accidentally released in the destruction, mutating the remaining survivors into grotesque beasts. We call this the Culling; when humanity was brought to the brink of extinction. But then a group of scientists trying to find a cure, discovered something else—something much more powerful. A potion for immortality, a sacred gift with miraculous qualities. They had discovered the elixir.”
The speaker raised up a small crystal vial and the crowd oohed and aahed on cue. I could tell he was an elite from the way he carried himself; that effortless movement, the fluid confidence. He also looked vaguely familiar from last year. I’d heard this story before, of course. It was repeated practically word for word at every choosing ceremony.
“What they could not foresee, however,” the elite continued, “was that every gift comes with a price. The elixir caused rapid healing and cellular regeneration, halted the aging process completely, cured disease and even made one immune to the poisonous ash. But it did this at the expense of the host. The regenerative properties of the elixir demanded fresh blood to complete its simple programming… and the thirst became great.”
“Those treated were stronger and faster than any ordinary human, but they needed blood to survive. Human trafficking became rampant, as fathers sold whole families to elites in exchange for a bit of the life-saving elixir. Communities of humans worked together to trap and butcher elites, then drain them of their healing blood. Governments toppled, powerless to stop the bloodshed, and the Race Wars began. The elites and the commons slaughtered each other for decades.”
All of this was taught in history class. We had mandatory schooling until we were thirteen. But the elite was a masterful story-teller, and held the audience rapt with attention.
“The elites went into hiding, their numbers fewer and fewer, until at last the great King Richard brought all the elites together and made peace with the humans. King Richard, in his magnificence, built the purification engines, and invited the humans to live in gated communities around the elite stronghold, the citadel of light. Free from the poisonous ash and the monsters beyond the gates, humans could live in health and harmony. A covenant was struck between King Richard and the first settlers, ensuring mutual benefits to both races. The elite would provide government, organization, law, and structure. The compounds would provide work, art and craft, and manpower. The covenant was sealed with the exchange of blood. Humans living in the compounds would provide blood willingly to the elite, while the elites would give inhabitants a single drop of elixir each week during renewal, to keep them strong and healthy. Violence between the races was forbidden.”
“In return, to cement mutual trust and remind us of our pact, it was decided that each elite will choose a human companion. This union serves to remind us of our humanity, and to quench the rage of our thirst. Now, we live together in harmony, as partners. The two races, complimenting each other and helping one another. Live together, or die apart.”
The crowd repeated the last line, dutifully reciting the motto of our Kingdom. My lips moved, but no sound came out. Amber squeezed my hand, and then it was time. The mayor stepped forward and began calling names. My heart pounded when he got to mine. Emily Sharrow. I somehow moved my legs forward and started climbing the stairs with trembling knees. The scorched wood from the night before had already been replaced with new boards. I was so fixated on them, I nearly stumbled over my new dress.
I joined the rest of the girls and lined up on stage. My eyes sought out my family in the crowd. My mother looked happier than I’d ever seen her. I forced myself to remember that she wasn’t trying to get rid of me, she was just doing what she felt was best for our family. If I were chosen, she would have one less mouth to feed. I would live in the citadel of lights, in luxury and comfort, and never have to work again. She, meanwhile, along with my brother and sister, would get special treatment and allocation of resources, which would include moving to a larger house.
For her sake, I’d get through this. I knew I should be more excited at the idea of bein
g swept off my feet by a handsome suitor. Most girls would give anything to get picked by an elite. I was curious, sure, but more nervous than eager, and I hated being all dressed up and on display. Staying in Algrave was easy. It’s what I knew. I loved Trev, like a brother maybe, but so what? We could be happy together. It could be a good life. I tried to convince myself, but felt a familiar anxiety at the idea of staying in Algrave. If I didn’t get chosen, I’d spend the rest of my life within these gates. Part of me longed for more, for my life to mean something. And after yesterday, the idea of getting chosen lit me up with feelings I’d never experienced before. I glanced over at the line of elites, trying to catch a glimpse of Damien’s blond hair.
My rosy daydreams were shattered when I saw Nigel on the side of the platform, huddled with his entourage from yesterday. There were about a dozen elites on the stage, but he stood out, with his slicked back hair and dark eyebrows. Our eyes connected and he leered at me.
My blood froze and my heart pounded in my chest. I gagged as I remembered him forcing himself on top of me. I would rather die than be his consort. My eyes swept over the elites desperately, looking again for Damien, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Prince Hartmann” the announcer called, looking to his left. “First choice goes to you.”
I gaped when Damien stepped forward, wearing a dark suit and a regal red cape that hung to his knees. It was lined with fur and sported the royal crest of the Hartmann line. He’d been sitting in a sculpted chair in the back, which explained why I hadn’t seen him before.
My pulse caught in my throat. He was right there. He could actually choose me. Damien scanned the line of girls, frowning thoughtfully. His eyes landed on me, and for just a moment, I allowed myself to hope. I even let my lips lift in the slightest of smiles, hoping Trev wouldn’t see. It had only been a day, but if Damien recognized me at all, he gave no indication. He merely waved his hand and turned his back on all of us.
My heart dropped into my stomach. I stared at the ground, trying to hide my crushing disappointment. Of course he didn’t want me. He was an elite. And the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. And a prince. But whatever. I didn’t want to be chosen anyway.
The announcer called the next elite, continuing the ceremony, and a man with a long nose and blue paisley shirt stepped forward. This one took more time, examining each girl closely, like he was choosing a cut of beef. I sighed with relief when he passed me.
As each elite examined and then discarded the line of girls on display, I relaxed more and more. The crowd, however, began to grumble. It would be insulting to our compound’s honor if none of the girls got chosen this year. The fourth elite, however, chose a girl named Mary and the crowd erupted in cheers. The elite raised Mary’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. She blushed and smiled, then clasped her hands in front of her, overcome with emotion. The crowd hooted and clapped. I’d never been very close with her, but I was glad for her happiness. Mary took her seat with an air of satisfaction, and the crowd finally quieted.
There were only a few more to go now. Soon this whole ordeal would be behind me and my life would go back to normal. I’d return to my family for a while, then marry Trev get a house of our own. Everything would work out for the best. Finding him in the crowd, I smiled down at him and gave a little wave. Trev grinned back at me, holding Loralie up so she could see the stage.
Then suddenly my view was replaced by a sneer and dark, oily hair. Nigel.
He wasn’t unattractive, of course. None of them were. His features were chiseled and strong—he resembled an actor from the movie-pictures the council set up on the weekends. But when he looked at me, slowly drawing his eyes down my body, I felt sick to my stomach.
I stared at my feet, trying to ignore him, but it was no use. Nigel reached up and lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. He smiled, then brushed one long finger across my lips.
No. Please God, no, I screamed inside my head. My knees trembled, and I felt like I was about to pass out and fall off the stage. The corner of his lip curled slightly. He knew the effect he had on me, and he liked it.
“This one,” he called loudly, seizing my hand and holding it up to his lips. Then he leaned in close and whispered into my ear, “I can’t wait to get you to my room and tear you to pieces. Then I’ll heal you and do it again.”
He bowed and presented me with a red rose, the symbol of his choice. I knew my duty. I was supposed to accept it. But my body went rigid, horrified by what was happening around me. I considered throwing myself off the stage—it looked high enough. If I landed the wrong way, I might be able to break my own neck. I’m sure it would be less painful than what Nigel had in store for me.
Through the tears building at the rims of my eyes, I found my mother in the crowd. She was crying too, but hers were tears of joy and pride. Our neighbors were congratulating her with hugs and pats on the back. If I died right now, my family would get nothing. If I was going to kill myself, the least I could do was wait until after the ceremony was finished. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to regain control.
Nigel’s grin was triumphant as I reached for the rose with trembling fingers.
“I invoke my right to claim,” said a calm, but firm voice from the side of the stage. My head whipped around, and my jaw dropped as Damien pushed to the front of the group of elites.
Right to claim? What the hell?
There were murmurs from the crowd and commotion from the other elites. Mayor Thompson was fumbling through his paperwork, looking almost comically dumbfounded.
“It’s too late for that!” Nigel yelled, stomping his foot. Both his hands clenched into fists. “You had your chance, Hartmann. You passed. She is mine now and I’ll do with her whatever I like!”
Damien didn’t even raise an eyebrow, but the others shrunk away from him, as if his mere presence were a threat. “As the Crowned Prince of the Hartmann line, I can make my selection of any chosen at any time, before the partnership is consummated, as long as I have the permission of the chosen in question. Right, Tobias?”
“Yes, um…that’s right of course,” the announcer stammered. “Although, I don’t think it’s ever been used before.” His eyes darted back and forth between Nigel and Damien, like he was expecting to have to step between them. Were two elites seriously going to start fighting over me?
I gasped as Damien’s bright blue eyes fixed me with a penetrating stare. Any kindness he’d shown before was gone. Now, he just looked annoyed. Angry even.
“Do you consent?” he demanded, his voice like steel.
I gaped at him, speechless. How had my life come to this? Last night, it felt like the world was full of possibilities. Now, I was being forced to choose between a man who seemed completely disinterested in me, and a man who only wanted to cause me pain.
Disinterest it was. I nodded my head. “I…yes, I consent.” I said, not entirely sure what I was consenting to. Instinctively, I searched the crowd for Trev again, but immediately wished I hadn’t. Before that moment, I didn’t know so much grief and anger could exist in one person at the same time. Glaring at me, he removed Loralie from his shoulders before disappearing into the crowd. I bit my lip to stem the guilt flooding through me.
“Then it’s settled,” the announcer declared. “Nigel…do you wish to choose from among the other young ladies of Algrave?”
“No, dammit!” Nigel yelled, stamping his foot against the stage so hard the platform trembled beneath us. It was like watching Jamie throw a tantrum when he was a toddler. In a grown elite, it was much more unnerving. Nigel gripped my arm so tight I was sure he would leave a bruise.
“This isn’t over,” he grunted, his voice hardly more than a hiss in my ear. “Watch yourself, human.” Then he shoved passed me. Shaking, I sat down in my chair, staring at my hands. I was in shock. I hardly heard the rest of the ceremony. My tears blurred my vision as I stared down at the ugly stains on my hands. When I was little I used to look for patterns in the
m, meaning of some kind. But I knew the truth now. There was no meaning, no purpose to my life. The remaining elite took turns making their selections. I vaguely heard that Jessica had been chosen, and then the ceremony was over. Tomorrow, after renewal, I’d be claimed, and move with Prince Damien to the citadel of light.
4
I practically ran home after the ceremony. If one more person got in my way to congratulate me, I was going to punch them. I locked myself in my room and stripped off the stupid dress. I tossed it into a drawer and glared at it, as if it was the reason I’d been chosen. Who knows, maybe it had been—no elite would want me if they saw the way I really looked. Then I remembered, Damien had seen me. Climbing a tree in my dirty clothes, after nearly getting myself killed. And he’d still chosen me, though from the scowl he’d given me, he wasn’t happy about it.
I changed into my most comfortable clothes—jeans and a black sweater—before pulling on my boots. I wanted to feel like myself again, if only for one last day. I heard the door open downstairs as my family came in, and realized I hadn’t said goodbye to Amber. Shit, I should have waited for her. I should have consoled her for not getting picked.
Mom raised an eyebrow at me when I came downstairs in my regular clothes, but she didn’t say anything. I could read her thoughts, anyway—you’re wearing that? The night after choosing, the village had a potluck to share all the leftover food from Festival. The mood was tempered by the results of the ceremony. Three of us had been chosen today. Apparently, the last time that happened was twenty years ago. The whole town was elated. Neighbors kept dropping by and giving us more food. My little siblings’ eyes grew bigger as pies, cakes, and peach cobblers stacked up on our kitchen table, and the gathering spilled out into the street in front of our house.