by ERIN BEDFORD
“No one knows.”
“What do you mean no one knows?” I argued, getting irritated by the lack of information. “If it happens every year, surely someone has revealed what happened at the party when they came home, haven’t they?”
Marsha’s gaze went to the floor, his silence causing a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Marsha,” I urged. “Why doesn’t anyone know?”
Finally—after what seemed like forever—Marsha answered. And it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “No one knows what happens because most don’t come back,” he explained, almost reluctant to tell me.
“And those who do?” I asked, my heart racing, almost positive he was about to tell me something horrific. Before he could tell me, another knock came at the door.
Both of our heads turned but while mine held confusion, Marsha’s was afraid. “Clara, they’re here.”
Chapter 4
This time the knock on the door rouse my stepfamily. They rushed down the stairs, their feet pounding on each step in their excitement.
When my two stepsisters landed at the bottom—where Marsha and I still stood—they only gave us a single passing glance before making a dash for the door. My stepmother seemed slightly less in a hurry though she did give me a disapproving glance as she followed her daughters.
“Do you think it’s them?” Lea asked, her eyes wide and her hands wringing in front of her. She practically bounced on her heels making her pale blue knee-length dress flounce up and down like a hot air balloon.
“Who else would it be, you imbecile?” Julianna sneered, her hand going for the door.
“Julianna!” Belinda chastised, causing the older girl to pull her hand back with a snap. “We do not call people names in this house. We are not from the Glade.”
“Sorry mother.” Julianna hung her head, not even bothered that her mother had practically insulted me in the same breath as she’d corrected her daughter.
“Now, we will answer the door like the civilized people we are.” Belinda smoothed her hands down her own dress—made of a dark green material with tiny buttons all the way down the back. I wondered briefly if she had made it herself or if she had had one of her many workers do it for her. It was hard to imagine Belinda doing any kind of labor other than shouting orders. Which she seemed to do so well.
Without having to ask, her daughters moved to the side allowing her to open the door, which had endured further knocking during their skirmish. When it opened, it revealed a tall man—the tallest I’d ever seen—with dark-colored eyes and pale white hair, though he couldn’t have been more than thirty. He gave a delighted grin which made his eyes twinkle in the sunlight.
“Pardon me for the intrusion, I am Malcolm,” he said with a faint lilted accent.
“Oh, no trouble at all,” my stepmother cooed and bowed slightly to the man, though I had no idea why. There was no indication that he was anyone of importance but maybe she knew more than she let on. “We were just wondering when you might be coming. Please let me welcome you to our home.” She swept her arm into the doorway with an exaggerated flare. “Would you like some tea? Maybe something to eat?”
Malcolm smiled even more but shook his head. “No, no tea. I’m quite alright. I am simply here to pick up our guest.” His eyes shifted over to where I stood and when they fell on Marsha his expression brightened even more. “Ah, it looks like you have saved me a trip Mr. Butchen, I was on my way to pick you up next.”
My stepfamily’s gaze landed on Marsha who ducked his head, his ears turning a bright red. “I was just checking on Clara since she just moved here.”
“Oh, is that so?” Malcolm’s eyes moved to land on me, scanning my form. If he saw anything of interest he didn’t show it on his face, only that growingly creepy smile stayed in place. “Well, I imagine you will be quite a breath of fresh air compared to the others.”
His comment made my stepsisters giggles—they sounded like birds squawking in their nests. In that moment, I was happy I would be leaving; at least then I would get a break from the two girls and their constant pestering.
“Are you ready to leave?” Malcolm turned his attention to Belinda, as if she could answer for us. “Said all your goodbyes?”
“Actually,” I started to speak up, hoping maybe I could convince him to allow me to see my father first but my stepmother cut me off with a glare.
“Yes! Everything is ready and they can’t wait to get going, right Clarabelle?” The warning in her voice made me frown, my eyes narrowing into slits but what could I do? While I was in her house, she made the rules and no matter how much my father would disapprove there wasn’t much I could do about it until he came back. I would just have to hope I could find someone at the Core who would take pity on a girl who was missing her father.
“Yes.” I sighed in defeat and started toward the door. “We’re ready. Right, Marsha?” I cocked a brow as I glanced back at the burly boy who hadn’t stopped staring at Malcolm.
“Sure, sure,” he muttered and came up to my side.
Malcolm clapped his hands together with glee and gestured out the door. “Then, by all means, let us be on our way. There are a few more to pick up on our way to the Core.”
I followed him out of the door and down the small set of steps of my stepmother’s home only to stop and gasp. A car stood before me. And not just any car; a limousine.
Vehicles of any kind were rare in the Inner Circle, even more so in the Glade. The delivery truck my father and his assistant drove was the only vehicle I’d ever seen up close. Since I’d move to the Inner Circle, I’d seen a few but none as nice as the one before me.
The man—Malcolm—stopped at the door and opened it for us, gesturing inside. “Please, after you.”
I glanced back at Marsha with a frown. Then, ignoring the nagging feeling in my stomach, I slid into the car.
The seats were made of shiny leather and the inside smelled of fresh cut roses. It made my nose tickle and I let out a loud sneeze. Rubbing my nose on the back of my sleeve, I moved further in so that Marsha could sit beside me.
“Wow.” He gaped, a bit more stunned than I had been.
The door shut behind him and locked making my eyes jump to it. Malcolm didn’t get into the back with us, but sat in the passenger seat next to the driver. The window between the front and the back lowered revealing the two.
“Please, buckle your seat belts. We have two more to pick up on our way to the Core.” His voice still held that I’m-so-happy-to-do-my-job type of tone but now that we were in the car and away from prying eyes, it held a sort of warning edge to it. It seemed we had changed from guests to prisoners in a matter of seconds.
After I buckled my belt—which took some doing since I’d never been in a car before—my eyes scanned the rest of the car. The back section where Marsha and I sat, held two long seats facing each other, with a third set of seats placed against the wall where the window had risen back up. A small rectangular shaped box sat on the left side of the car and before I could decide if I wanted to open it Marsha beat me to it.
“Hey, it’s a refrigerator.” He laughed and took a bottle of water out of it.
Refrigerators weren’t hard to come by. The whole of Alban had more electricity than anything else. In the Glade, we didn’t use it more than to keep our food fresh and to see our meager plates in the evening light. The Soft Hands, on the other hand, had things like television and radios. They spent their evenings and weekends stuck in front of them just wasting the hours away.
I couldn’t imagine doing such things. My stepsisters tried to convince me into watching one of their programs but it only took me a whole of five minutes before I became restless. I was used to working with my hands, used to moving about; I couldn’t stay in one place for hours at a time. It would drive me mad. I had a feeling the castle wouldn’t be any better.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” I muttered to Marsha who happily sipped away on his water, all thoughts of his pre
vious warning gone.
“Why not?” he asked, not bothered that Malcolm and the driver could hear him. “We’re their guests. They aren’t going to do anything to us on the way there.”
The way he said it made me start. “What do you mean?”
Marsha’s face closed and he capped his bottle. “Never mind, I don’t want to worry you. I’m sure it will be fine.” He smiled slightly and took my hand in his. It was warm and a bit clammy from the bottle but I didn’t pull away right away. Not until we stopped again with a jerk.
The window separating up lowered again and Malcolm turned his smiling face to us. “We are stopping briefly to get another one of our guests and then we have one more and we’ll be well on our way to the Core. So, sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
The window rolled back up before either of us could say anything. We sat in the back of the limo, neither of us daring to speak. I didn’t know why Marsha had clammed up but I didn’t have much to say—at least not to Marsha who was in the same situation as I was. He had as much power as I did. Which to be honest wasn’t much.
After a few minutes, the door to the limo unlocked and in stepped a petite blonde-haired beauty. Her hair curled down over her shoulder and lay against the top of her rose-colored dress. The small smile on her lips never wavered as she buckled in across from us.
“Hey, Tillie,” Marsha greeted.
The girl glanced over at him and nodded, “Hello. It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Marsha replied as if it were all normal. I watched on in confusion as Tillie stared out the window dreamily, as if we weren’t even there.
When the car started again, I leaned over to Marsha and whispered, “What’s wrong with her?”
“That’s the part I was trying to tell you about before,” he answered, this time having the smarts to keep his voice down. “If you don’t get selected to stay they send you back, but without any memory of what happened.”
“So, you will end up like that?” I eyed Tillie who had started to watch her hands move through the air.
“No.” Marsha shook his head. “That’s because Tillie is the oldest child; her brother is only two, so she’s been picked every year for the last four years.”
“And she’s been sent back every time?” I asked with disbelief.
“Yes, which is why she’s...not quite all there,” he ended politely.
I sat back in my seat at his explanation, none of it making sense. If they didn’t want her the first four times then why would they keep inviting her?
“It’s because of my looks,” Tillie answered my unspoken question surprising me. “Oh, don’t look so scared,” she giggled. “I’m not psychic but everyone always asks every year.”
“Wait,” I put my hand out and moved to the edge of my seat, “I thought you don’t remember what happens there?”
“Oh, I don’t,” she smiled. “But I do remember being picked up with the others and every time they ask the same question.” She sighed as if it were a burden to explain. “I’m pretty you see, much prettier than I should be and that’s why they keep inviting me. But not after this year.” She giggled again as if she had a secret to tell.
“Why not?” I glanced at her and Marsha. “Why not after this year?”
“Because I’ll be twenty-one and I will be too old to be invited.” She replied with a happy sound before her eyes were distracted by something outside. “Oh, look we’re here.”
Marsha and I froze in our seat as the limo came to a stop but we weren’t in front of the palace. We were picking up another guest. This girl wasn’t as remarkable as Tillie and complained as she entered the back.
“I have to share a car with them?” she cried out as she flopped down on the seat. “Some honored guest.” She muttered under her breath as she adjusted her gown. She kept her dark hair short on the sides with a long bit on top falling over her viper green eyes. Shiny earrings filled her ears, while her nose bore a single piercing. The gown she wore would have been called sexy on a less busty person but on her, it became almost obscene.
“What are you staring at?” The girl snapped at me, studying my own outfit. “Is that what you are going to wear?” The sheer outrage in her voice made me realize Marsha and I were the only ones not dressed up, but even he looked better than I did in yesterday’s rumpled clothes. He’d discarded his apron before we’d entered the limo and now sat in his white shirt and slacks.
I shrugged a shoulder. “They invited me, not the other way around.”
The girl scoffed and ran a hand through her hair. “Well, that’s fine by me. You keep thinking that way. Makes my job easier.”
I frowned at her words and almost asked what she meant but she beat me to it.
“I’m Zara, by the way. Remember it because I’m the one who’s going to win this thing.”
Chapter 5
“Win this thing?” I asked, shooting a look at Marsha who only shrugged. “Win what?”
Zara fluffed her skirts with an impatient huff. “You know, the big prize. The position above all other positions.” When I still only stared at her she let out a haughty laugh. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”
I shook my head and shrugged again. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I didn’t like it.
“This,” Zara circled her finger around the limo, “is all a ruse to pick new people to live in their palace. To live there as servants, or as more pleasurable company.” The last part she said with a sultry tone and winked in Marsha’s direction. He shifted next to me and blushed.
“How do you know all this?” I asked leaning slightly forward in my seat. “I thought no one knew about the party.”
Zara lifted a shoulder as she eyeballed her nails. “I’m not just anyone. My father is the mayor of this little hovel and I’m privy to all sorts of information. Like, how I know you, Clarabelle,” she sneered, too happy with herself about knowing my name, “aren’t from here.”
“So?” I cocked a brow at her.
“So,” she drew out, “you shouldn’t have been invited. There must have been some kind of mistake. It was Julianna’s turn. I know it. I saw the list.”
“The list?” Marsha and I asked at the same time and then exchanged a confused look.
Zara leaned back in her seat, her hands clasped in her front her gleefully. “Oh, you didn’t know about the list?” she didn’t wait for us to answer before she continued. “You thought the invitation was sent out at random, do you? Not so.” She waved a finger in front of her. “My father sends a list of eligible candidates to the Core and they send out the invitation from that list. And your name,” she pointed a finger at me, “wasn’t on it. I saw it.”
My lips curled down in confusion. If my name wasn’t on the list then how did I get an invitation? If I shouldn’t here, then why was I? Someone must have added my name but the question was who? And why?
“But it doesn’t matter anyway,” Zara cooed as the limo came to a stop once more.
“And why is that?” I asked, but was interrupted by the window in the front as it began to descend.
Malcolm’s smiling face appeared, his large white teeth gleaming. “We’re here!”
Everyone turned to peer out the darkened windows, our eyes straining to see beyond the small frame. There wasn’t much there to see; tall pillars rose up supporting the roof of the majestic covered entrance. People—likely servants in their pristine matching dark gray outfits—stood in two straight lines stopping just a few feet from the limo. When the door opened on Marsha’s side I peered over his shoulders at a blood-red carpet running between the two lines of people.
Marsha unsnapped his seat belt quick as can be and hopped out of the car door. I struggled with mine for a moment before I finally got it off. Tillie exited before me, but as I tried to leave Zara pulled me back, her nails biting into my arm.
“Remember you aren’t supposed to be here, so don’t get any ideas. I’m still going to be winning this thing
,” she snarled at me, her eyes flashing.
I jerked my arm away from her with a condescending smile. “Then you have nothing to worry about.” Her face lit up in surprise but I didn’t wait to hear what else she had to say.
I stepped out of the car, and my booted foot sank into the plush red carpet as my eyes widened. This close to the castle, the building was a lot bigger than it seemed. The place had to be twenty or thirty feet high, and there were so many windows I wondered if I would be able to see my house in the Glade from one of them.
As I gaped at the palace Zara shoved into my side pushing me into one of the servants. The woman I fell into could have been my mother, with her dark hair streaked white and equally dark eyes. The small smile on her face as she helped me back to my feet caught me off guard. There was something about her, something which made me want to trust her with all my darkest secrets.
“Thank you, Venna,” Malcolm came up from behind and placed a hand on my shoulder making my back stiffen. His arrival caused Venna’s smile to fall and her eyes to hit the floor. I wanted to stay and talk to her, to find out what all this was, but Malcolm was steering me away from her and the procession of servants.
He led me into the palace at a quick pace, not allowing me to linger to take in the wonder around me. I tried my best to keep up with him, his long legs giving him the advantage over my five-foot-six frame. When we finally stopped before a door, I realized none of the other people I had arrived with were in sight.
“Where’d everyone else go?” I asked peering into the room before me.
“Do not worry, you will see them later.” Malcolm smiled that over-exaggerated smile of his and then for a moment his face darkened. “Now, I’m only going to tell you once. Do not mingle with the help. They have a job to do and they can’t help you.”
“Help me?” I frowned. “If it hadn’t been for Venna I would have fallen flat on my face. I think they helped me plenty already.”