by D. S. Murphy
Suddenly I could breathe again. It was like being released from stone. I placed my hand to my chest to steady my heartbeat. When I turned around, I realized nobody else was moving. There was not a single sound, among the hundreds of people gathered around the execution field.
King Richard wiped his sword with a white handkerchief and tossed it to the floor, now slick with blood. Red from the six rebels, and the foul-smelling black liquid oozing from the corpse of the mutation.
“The rebels cannot defend you,” King Richard said, gesturing at the remains of the six men. “Not from me, not from the slagpaw, not from the ash. The covenant is the only thing that keeps our species alive. Live together, or die apart.”
“But these traitors, who try and destroy the peace and harmony we have built here, they are an infection. Our kingdom will not allow terrorism. It is my sworn duty to protect you, and for that to happen, all rebels must be punished. No matter who they are.”
His cold eyes scrutinized the gathering, seeming to look at each of us in turn. Then he snapped his fingers and another group of royal guards hurried forward. They were packed together in a tight square, so I didn’t see who was between them until they fanned out, leaving a solitary figure in the middle of the courtyard. Penelope was wearing a elegant yellow dress, and it looked like her hair and make-up had been done recently. She was so beautiful, it was almost hard to look. She could have passed for an elite.
Murmurs spread like wildfire as the crowd realized who she was. Then the whispers started.
A chosen. A traitor. A rebel.
King Richard turned to look at her. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but it couldn’t be good. I started forward, but a firm hand grabbed my arm and rooted me in place. I looked back and found Damien, his eyes cold, staring straight ahead.
“I thought you said there would be a trial?” I said. “We have to stop this!”
“It’s been decided,” Damien said, clenching his jaw. “There’s nothing we can do.”
How was he just going to let this happen? I strained against him, looking around for help. Where was Tobias? What about Marcus or Trevor? I realized I was secretly hoping for another rebel attack. Someone to stop this madness, to save Penelope. My hopes fell when I finally saw Tobias, surrounded by six soldiers, with heavy silver chains that seemed to burn into his skin.
“As you can see,” King Richard gestured towards him. “No one is beyond reproach. Not a chosen, and not even an elite. There can be no favoritism, and the laws must be enforced, no matter how painful.”
He nodded, and the soldiers unlocked Tobias’s hands and removed the heavy chains. I expected him to attack, to fight, but he just stood there. Veins pulsed from his neck and his eyes bulged slightly, like he was trying to move, but couldn’t. I looked back at the king to see him wearing a smug smile.
“You might think the elite are biased, that we would treat our chosen differently from common rebels. Today I hope to dissuade you of that idea. Each elite chooses a companion to elevate him, to make him better, and stronger. But it also makes us responsible. Tobias, your chosen has consorted with rebels, stolen elixir, plotted revolution and conspiracy against the king. The punishment is death. Today, you will carry out the sentence.”
The audience gasped and I brought a hand to my mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way Tobias would kill Penelope. He loved her. When he bent down to pick up a sword, I broke free from Damien and pushed forward through the crowd.
“Stop this!” I shouted.
The guards held me back, making a wall of armor and crossed swords, but I was close enough to see a single tear roll down Tobias’s face. He was trembling with exertion now, resisting with ever fiber of his being.
“Control your bride!” King Richard roared to Damien, without looking over at us. I saw a flicker of strain cross his brow and realized he must be compulsing Tobias. He was going to force him to kill the woman he loved. And nobody was going to stop him. Penelope didn’t shy away when Tobias approached with the sword. Instead she cupped her palm around his face.
“I love you,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”
He nodded, and she kissed him. Then he plunged the sword through her body.
Bile rose to my throat, and I felt a burning pain in my gut as if I’d stabbed.
Penelope gasped for breath, and blood dripped from the corner of her lips down her chin. She leaned forward for a final kiss, leaving a red smear on Tobias’s pale cheek. Then she collapsed. Tobias placed his arms under her knees and lifted her up, then carried her to the edge of the platform between the two massive statues. He hefted the body up above his head and tossed her over the abyss, into the rushing waters. Then he sank to his knees, his cheeks wet with tears and blood, and let out a roar of anguish that shook me to my core.
That night there was a banquet in the royal palace. It was a celebration for ending the rebellion. All the chosen were to attend, including most of the elite and the noble families and influential merchants. The dining hall was packed, with long rows of tables this time. They were decorated with gold rimmed dishware, light blue flowers, bold navy blue tablecloths. Silver cutlery. I ran my fingers over the edge of my knife, squeezing the blade until it hurt.
Annette picked out a new dress for me. It was pink, with swirls of fabric pinned to the shoulders like rose buds. After spending last night hiding from the guards, I felt more vulnerable than ever, with my bare shoulders and arms in a room full of elite. Damien told me earlier, he wouldn’t be able to help me if I was involved with the rebels. Now I understood what he meant. It wasn’t only that he wouldn’t stand up against his father. It was that he couldn’t. King Richard was too powerful. And more than that, he was cruel. Punishing the rebels was one thing, but forcing Tobias to murder his love like that…
I shivered and rubbed my arms. Across the room I saw Rivka in a tight black dress, with Nigel again. She was looking at me and whispering something in his ear. My heart quickened. Did she recognize me at Madame Brezing’s? Would Nigel call for the guards? But he laughed and looked away. Rivka winked at me and smiled. She might be a problem later.
King Richard stood on the stage and raised his glass to make a toast.
“Now that this business has been resolved,” he said, “I’m pleased to announce the trials will continue as planned, on schedule. Now, more than ever, it’s crucial that our chosen prove their loyalty. I promise, you can expect an exciting spectacle. We will weed out the strong, the committed and the loyal. For another hundred years of peace!”
The room lifted their glasses, and cheered.
“To peace!” they repeated.
“At the very least, the trials will distract everyone from this unsavory business, and have them looking forward to a royal wedding. That’s what the people need now. A celebration of unity. An affirmation of the covenant. Without our traditions, we have nothing. Soon, I’m sure we’ll get everything back to normal.”
Back to normal? What did that word even mean in Richard’s kingdom? How could anything ever be normal again? I hated him for what he’d done. Part of me hated Damien too, for standing there and watching it happen. And now I had to marry him. I finished a glass of wine, then poured another. The elite might not be able to get drunk, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t.
That’s when I saw Tobias. He was alone, and unshackled, though I saw a few guards near the door put their hands on their swords warily as he passed. His neck and wrists were still red from his containment, but he held himself with confidence and walked calmly into the party. There was a cold grin on his lips that almost hid the rage in his eyes.
I wondered if he was going to make a scene. Instead he nodded politely to the king, grabbed a bottle of wine off one of the tables, and sank into a cushioned booth at the back of the room. I wanted to go back and join him, but I saw Damien reach the table first. I backed slowly toward the wall, then slid along it until I was behind them. I glanced around quickly, then ducked under a
table and crept closer.
“I won’t do it,” Damien was saying.
“I can’t live like this,” Tobias said. “Knowing what I’ve done.”
“You haven’t done anything,” Damien said. “He forced you, like he forced me.”
“Then let’s do something about it!” Tobias said. “There are others, they will follow you.”
“He’s too strong,” Damien shook his head.
“Not if we all strike at once,” Tobias insisted.
“Forget about it,” Damien said. “Don’t throw your life away after hers.”
“I’d rather die a meaningful death than live a meaningless life.”
“Elite don’t die,” Damien said.
“Death may be the greatest of all human blessings.” Tobias said, gripping Damien’s wrist.
Damien’s eyes widened suddenly and he pulled away.
“You still have it, don’t you?” Tobias said, leaning forward.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Damien said. “We don’t even know if it works.”
One of the staff approached the table to offer more wine, but quickly retreated under the withering glares of the elite.
“Nothing you do is going to bring her back,” Damien said, standing up. “Give it time. If you still feel the same way in three months, ask me again. We’ll take a trip, maybe see the ocean. Then we’ll talk more.”
I waited until they were gone, then snuck out from my hiding place and rejoined the party. But my head was spinning. Were they been talking about the antidote? If so, that meant it was real. Tobias said there were others. Did he mean other elite, plotting against King Richard? Damien said nothing could stop the king, but with the antidote, and a few elite on our side, it might just be possible. But I couldn’t wait three months.
I let Damien walk me home, but said goodnight at the door. Neither of us knew what to say to each other. I took off the pink dress as soon as I reached my room, feeling the cool air against my bare skin. I waited another hour, to make sure I was alone, then snuck downstairs and out into the night. I crossed the courtyard and reached into the drainpipe where I’d seen Penelope stash something earlier, and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in fabric.
I stuffed it in my pocket, then hurried back to my room, letting out a breath of relief as I closed the door behind me. I unwrapped the parcel with trembling fingers, carefully undoing the leather strings to reveal a small vial of elixir. It shone brightly in the dark room, glowing with inner magic.
20
A day passed, then two. Training resumed and I threw myself into it, reveling in the pain as my classmates hurled abuse upon me, and bruises bloomed like flowers across my skin. All to earn my dose of elixir. For a few hours, the panic and terror faded, and I felt almost like myself again. I could almost forget Penelope’s execution. But at night, once my scrapes and cuts had healed, and the pain faded, I’d be alone in my too-comfortable bedroom. I kept the windows open, because I never seemed to be able to get enough oxygen in my lungs. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tobias’s look of sheer anguish as he murdered the woman he loved. And Damien… just standing there. Nobody had done anything to stop it.
I started taking the long way to the training building, across the arched bridge over the rebel stronghold. King Richard gathered the heads of the executed men and displayed them on tall wooden pikes, three on each side. I walked between their wide, unblinking eyes.
It could have been me.
I’d met with the rebels. I’d snuck into the ash after curfew. I knew who they were. It was all my fault. Penelope’s last act had been to bring me the elixir, and she got caught because of it. Was it for my mother? Did Trevor tell her to bring it? Why not wait until after the lockdown? I wish I knew what drove her to take such a risk.
I hid the vial of stolen elixir in my room. For the first few days, my whole body was rigid with alert, listening for the sounds of the guards crashing through the door to arrest me. I knew I should get rid of the evidence. I thought about dumping out the elixir, crushing the glass into sand, burying it in the earth—but taking it out of the house at all seemed riskier than leaving it in my room. Plus, I couldn’t bear to part with it. It was my mom’s last hope. I just needed a way to smuggle it back to Algrave. Still, I changed the hiding place ten times a day. More than once I forgot the newest location and almost had a heart attack when I couldn’t find it again.
Part of me wanted to escape, and run back to Algrave on my own. But the guard patrols had doubled and the main gates checked documents carefully. If I was caught, I’d be questioned. What if they forced me to give up information? What if Marcus and Trevor were captured, because of me? I wanted to fight, to rebel, but I was too afraid of what might happen if I did. King Richard’s show of force had worked. Like everyone else in the citadel, I was too afraid to do anything, and instead I walked around in a daze.
Training was the only place I felt comfortable, surrounded by my new classmates. The first day back, Mary and Jazmine gave me nods of commisseration, but Master Svboda made us run drills before we had a chance to talk, and kept us out of breath until it was time to leave. She said she needed to push us harder, to make sure we’d perform well in the trials. She’d always been stern, but now she looked worried. I had a feeling she was no longer just concerned about us passing the trials. She was worried about how many of us would survive.
I pushed myself so hard in class my brain settled into a gray fog of exhaustion. I barely registered anything, until I heard Jessica gossipping about Penelope in class.
“She was a traitor,” she said. “She got what she deserved. Plus, my fiancé said she was sleeping around with the rebels.”
I spun to face her.
“That’s a lie,” I growled. “Take it back.”
“Oh my,” she said, pretending to fan herself. “Maybe she was sleeping around with you. Are you a rebel, Emily?” she narrowed her eyes at me.
My fist shot out before I knew what I was doing and slammed into her jaw, knocking her head back. She reacted quickly, grabbing me by the hair and throwing me towards the wall. I kicked off it, flipped over her head and landed softly behind her. It was so effortless, I didn’t even need to think about it. I just saw the surfaces, the angles, and I knew how to do it. I wrapped my arms around Jessica and rolled back, pulling her to the floor with my weight. I twisted and landed on top of her, with my knee pressed into her back, gripping her wrists tightly.
I realized, I’d always been a little afraid of Jessica. Resentful. I didn’t feel anything now, except the brittleness of her bones. They seemed to creak as I flexed my fingers. I could snap her arms off like twigs if I wanted to. I shook my head and relaxed my grip, just before the other girls pulled me off.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Jessica stood up and rotated her arms gingerly. She’d bullied me practically my whole life, but she was looking at me like I was the dangerous one.
“Whatever,” she said. Then she flipped her hair and sulked away.
Master Svboda called my name and asked me to stay longer.
Once the room was clear, she pulled me to the side.
“You need to be careful,” she whispered.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“It’s not just that,” Master Svboda said. She reached out and grabbed my bracelet, checking the digital monitor.
“1.8%” she said. She sounded relieved, but also slightly confused.
“You’re stronger than the other girls,” she said. “Even though you get the same amount of elixir.”
“Is that bad?” I asked.
“It’s abnormal. This isn’t a good time to draw attention to yourself. People might forgive you for your sympathy towards an executed rebel. I understand Penelope was a friend of yours. She was my friend, too. They’ll allow you a short period of grief. What they won’t allow,” she said quietly, “is someone different. Someone who can’t be controlled.”
I gulpe
d. I could feel the word on my tongue, but didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. Renitent. I saw it on her lips as well, but she was holding it in. She was trying to warn me, but I was tired of pretending I wasn’t hurting; pretending everything was fine. First I was too weak, now I was too strong. No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough. I tore my hand out of her grasp.
“We’re supposed to be getting stronger, aren’t we?” I asked. “So we can protect our elite husbands when the time comes. Sacrifice ourselves for them, die for them, like nothing. That’s all we’re good for, right? And competing against our classmates to show loyalty and entertain our masters. Well, I was just getting a head start.”
Her face fell and for the first time since I’d met her, the mask of the tough-drill master slipped and I saw the real woman behind it. Young, pretty and pained. I remembered what Camina told us about her husband: that he’d died protecting her. I wondered if she felt guilty, because she wasn’t strong enough to save him. Maybe that’s why she pushed us so hard. I assumed it was a slagpaw attack, but now I was curious how he died. I wanted to apologize and ask her about it, but she turned her back on me.
“See you tomorrow,” she said briskly, waving me out.
When I got home, I could hear Damien playing piano in the drawing room. I stood at the doorway, watching his slender fingers touch the keys delicately, and listening to the beautiful, sad music. I wondered if playing the piano was something he learned through effort, or something he stole by feeding on a pianist. I wondered if I was really attracted to him, or just the elixir I could sense inside of him. After a minute, I continued down the hall into the library. I didn’t want to interrupt the music, and I had nothing to say to him anyway. Besides, I had work to do.
King Richard was too powerful to defeat. Unless, somehow, we could find the antidote. If John Patten stole it, and he was friends with Damien, then maybe there was a clue in the library. But I’d gone through all of Damien’s notes, and flipped through hundreds of books. I also checked under the desk and furniture for any secret compartments. After going through all the books, I started on a pile of magazines almost as tall as I was. I was halfway through the stack when I found something. The cover showed a man with glasses and a moustache, smiling and holding a small vial of glowing liquid. He looked familiar, and I realized it was the same man from the dancing memory we shared in class. My eyes widened and my pulse quickened as I studied his features. It wasn’t just the memory. I knew him. He’d shaved his moustache, and didn’t wear glasses anymore, but I’m sure it was King Richard. I flipped open the magazine and scanned the article. The headline read THE CURE FOR MORTALITY.