by ERIN BEDFORD
When I didn’t reply, Beaford shoulders sagged a bit as if he’d expected me to cry out in objection. He fiddled with a letter opener on his desk and I started to wonder what the real reason was for him calling for me.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his eyes focused down on the desk. “This is a bit hard for me. I’ve never been good at making decisions. Your friend Tillie being here so many times can attest to that.”
Any respect I had for Beaford—which was little—went down the drain. He had been the one to call Tillie back so many times? The one who had practically destroyed her mind, and any chance of her having a normal life? Just because he couldn’t make up his mind? The sharpened letter opener in his hand suddenly seemed like it would look better in his eyeball.
“I called you here because I want to make an offer for you.” His eyes met mine across the table, but I schooled my features not to show my rage. I’d make him pay for it later. When I sat by Patrick’s side. Then all of them would pay.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice cool making him frown.
He soon got over it though and continued, “I know you are high up on the scoreboard and have no reason to think you won’t be chosen as a convert, but I would like you to think of what that might really mean. If you chose to be my companion you could have all the freedom in the world. Go where you like, do what you like, even wear what you like,” he gestured to my outfit, “But if you become the convert of the leader of all of Alban then you won’t have those luxuries. You will be constantly watched, judged for your every action. Now do you really want a life like that?” he questioned me, as if it were not something I could ever want. “Someone like you could clearly see how such a position would be...unfitting.”
I paused, trying to keep a hold of my emotions before I stood to my feet. “A person like me? You mean, someone from the Glade I take it?” I didn’t wait for him to answer, my anger not letting me hold back any longer. “Maybe it is people like you who are the reason Alban needs a person like me. Someone who can’t be bought, who has the welfare of the people—all the people—in mind, and not just those who live in the Inner Circle and Core.”
“Now, see here -”
“No,” I snapped, cutting him off, “you see here. I will win this and I will become the next convert and have the ear of Patrick Blordril. If not because it is the right thing to do, then because of people like you and Zara who think I can’t.” I stomped from the room, letting the door slam behind me with a satisfying boom.
Chapter 15
By time Asher came to help me get ready I was three plates of food into my angry eating. Back in the Glade, I couldn’t have bouts like this. Food was scarce enough that eating it when you weren’t hungry was unheard of.
But I wasn’t in the Glade. Which was the problem.
Asher opened the door on his own when I didn’t bother to get up to answer it. I barely glanced up from my plate of fluffy pastries to acknowledge him before I went back to shoving them in. Jelly from one of the pastries squirted out and dripped down my chin. I swiped at it with the back of my hand causing Asher to flinch.
“Clarabelle,” he said softly, taking the seat across from me. “I don’t wish to alarm you but it seems like you have been possessed.” He waved a hand across the table and the pile of empty plates.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled through bites.
“No, you’re clearly not.” He shook his head and then tried to take away the plate in front of me. My hand swiped out and snatched it back. I glared at him as I stuffed more dough into my mouth. I could feel the sugar rush hitting my head and I didn’t want to stop.
Asher frowned and leaned back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other. “This isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you waste food like this. Nor would I expect it, given your upbringing.”
“And that’s the problem,” I growled, swallowing the food in my mouth. “Everyone thinks they know what is best for me because I’m not like them. I’m from the Glade. I don’t belong. I shouldn’t even be here,” I rambled on and then tossed the half-eaten pastry onto the table. “Well, I’ll tell you what, I’m the only one who knows what I can and can’t do. If I want to eat a million donuts, then I will. If I want to wear pants instead of your magnificent outfits, then I will. And if I want to be the convert for Patrick-flippin-Blordril, then I will be.” I paused and took a few shallow breaths before swallowing a couple of times. The rich food I’d been downing swirled in my stomach like a tornado, threatening to come back up.
I jumped from the table my hand over my mouth and muttered, “I’m going to be sick.”
Rushing to the bathroom, all the food I’d eaten came back up in burning clumps. A warm hand sat on my back and another came around and held my hair away. A cool cloth was pressed against my neck and Asher’s voice murmured soothingly in my ear. “There’s a girl. It’s alright. You can be whatever you want to be. Just don’t kill yourself with pastries. That’ll just mean they all won.”
Once I had emptied my stomach, I sat back and leaned against the tiled bathroom wall. “I know. Normally, I wouldn’t even think of wasting so much food, even food from the Core, but he just made me so mad. I came back to my room and saw the tray of fruit and cheeses and it made it even worse.”
“Who made you mad?” Asher asked, stroking my forehead with the cloth.
“Beaford.”
“Oh, that hack,” Asher scoffed. “He’s an old-fashioned fool, who wouldn’t know an ascot from a handkerchief. I wouldn’t take anything he says to heart.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I didn’t, not really anyway. But the way he kept telling me I’d be more suited as his companion compared to being in such an important position as a convert.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I just couldn’t take it anymore.” I glanced over at Asher who watched me with a patient frown. “Did you know he’s the one who kept having Tillie brought back?”
“Really?” Asher raised a brow. “I can’t see that.”
“Truly, he said so himself.” I nodded. “Something about not being able to make up his mind. Or some bull.”
Asher sat next to me on the floor, his eyes focused on something off in the distance. “At least, now she can never be invited again. She’s over twenty-one now.”
At his words, I sat up. “What’s up with that anyway? What does being over seventeen and under twenty-one have anything to do with being invited?”
My sponsor shrugged. “I suppose it’s because that is the time in your life you are supposed to be searching for who you are. Where you belong. After twenty-one, you become harder to sway to their ways. But don’t take my word for it.” He smirked and caressed the side of my face. “I’m just the help.”
I snorted and rose to my feet with him. “I doubt anyone would ever see you as just the help. You’re too nosy.”
“Too true,” Asher responded with a smile. “But as it were, my nosiness is what is going to make you the new convert of Patrick-flippin-Blordril.”
“How?”
“Well,” Asher moved to the vanity, “First off, making sure you looked fabulous on all occasions was a must, but you also did a lot of the work for me.”
“How so?” I cocked a brow at him. I didn’t think I’d done anything except make myself look like an idiot, commit treason, and then get into a brawl. That didn’t sound like the perfect candidate to me.
Asher gestured for me to sit down at the vanity and began to work on my hair. “If you had been prim and proper like the rest of those wretches that were invited, Patrick would have glanced your way no more than for a second.”
“Not my fault you made the shoes miles high,” I retorted and tried to turn and glare at him but he forced me to sit forward.
“Then, your answers to the interview questions, I couldn’t have been prouder to have you as my guest. Nothing that comes out of your mouth is fake or insincere. I bet they’d never expected someone like you to walk through their doors.” He chuckled as he twisted my hair thi
s way and that.
“I hadn’t planned that either,” I muttered.
“I know! Which is what made it so great.”
“More like I’m lucky to have my head after yelling at them.” I tried to slouch in my chair but Asher tugged on my hair making me wince and sit up straight once more.
“Well, you have made more than your impression on our leader just from those two incidents but last night was the cherry on the top.” He paused as he pinned my hair into an elaborate updo and slid a small tiara into place. Moving around to sit in the chair his companions usually used to do my makeup, he sat in front of me. “Why did you go to that girl’s rescue? You barely know her.”
The question shocked me. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“That,” Asher pointed a face brush at my face. “That right there is why you will make a difference in the Fold.” He brushed the bristles across my face as he continued speaking. “You didn’t have to help her, it wasn’t like she was your best friend. In fact, most people would have let her get hurt simply because she was the competition.”
“But that’s not right.” My mouth dropped open at his words. Would the rest of them really not have come to her aide simply because they wanted her out of the running?
“This may come to a shock to you, my dear Clarabelle,” Asher said as he lined my lips. “But people are selfish. They don’t go out of their way to help anyone—even a child. What you showed was compassion. Something this world deeply needs.”
“Hmmm.” I didn’t know what to say to that. My father had raised me to care for everyone. As the overseer one neighbor’s problem was yours. You couldn’t not get involved because it would be inconvenient to you. Then no one would get anywhere. I wanted to believe there were good people in the world and they weren’t all like Asher described, but it was hard even for me.
“There,” Asher stated, getting to his feet and moving over to the bag he’d brought in with him when I was stuffing my face. The thought of food made my stomach roll. “Sadly, this will be my last outfit for you. Then you will go on to bigger and better places.”
“But we’ll see each other again, right?” My throat clogged at the thought of never seeing Asher again. He had been my one constant since I’d come here, and losing him and his gaggle of ladies seemed impossible.
“Of course,” Asher said. “You think my girls and I would just abandon you?” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head.
I glanced around the room, not for the first time wondering where the others were. “Why didn’t the others come?”
An emotion ran over Asher’s face before he gave me a grim smile. “I made them stay behind this time so I could have some alone time with you before the final event.”
“Why?”
Instead, of answering me, Asher unzipped the last dress bag and revealed a large ball gown of shimmering crystal blue material. Each movement made the tiny gems on the skirt shine like diamonds. In awe, I walked toward it. I fingered the bodice, the material silky and smooth against my skin.
“Do you like it?” Asher eyed me, little lines on his face showing his apprehension.
“I love it,” I said, beaming up at him. “It’s your best by far.”
Asher helped me into it, the material moving across my skin like a dream. I stared at myself in the mirror as he zipped up the back, still not quite believing I was wearing something so beautiful. If either of my stepsisters could see me now they would die on the spot. They’d soon see it though, I had no doubt the cameras would be there tonight, and in this dress there was little chance all eyes wouldn’t be on me.
Suddenly, I couldn’t wait until the ball.
Chapter 16
Ten left. There were ten of us left whose fate had yet to be decided. By the end of the night that would all change.
The final event would be held in a different part of the palace than the first two. There had been more of us then and with us now down to only a handful, there was no reason to compensate for the size.
When Asher brought me to the double doors there were two servants waiting on either side. They reached for the door handles but Asher stopped them from opening them. He turned to me and took my hands—which were covered in long elbow-length gloves matching the amazing gown—in his.
“No matter what happens tonight, I want you to remember one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked with a hint of a smile.
Asher leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You have the power to lift Alban back to greatness or burn it to the ground.”
Shocked by his words, I pulled back. I didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant by it all before he turned on his heels and walked away, leaving me alone at the doorway to my fate.
The two servants opened the double doors and I no longer had time to dwell on his words. I forced the shock from my face and hoped I gave a pleasant look as the cameras took me in. Ignoring them, I walked into the room which ended up being at the top of a large set of stairs. They led down into the room where the rest of the party was in full swing. There were fewer guests this time but the ones who had been chosen as companions were there with their counterparts.
I searched the room for a familiar face but found none. Marsha hadn’t been picked yet so he had to be there somewhere. Tillie had been sent home so I couldn’t rely on her to be there to calm me with her dreamy way of speaking. Narq, though we weren’t friends had saved my life and would be better than nothing, but since he had been chosen as a servant I doubted he’d be invited to the final party. As I descended the stairs I wondered if Violet would attend, or if she would still be in the infirmary.
I thought of searching for her but as I came down the stairs all eyes turned to me. The room hushed as a figure stepped out of what seemed like nowhere and waited at the bottom of the steps.
Patrick.
Dressed in a tailored suit of white, with his hair and pale eyes he would easily blend in with the walls had it not been for the blood red rose in his lapel. As it was the sight of him made my stomach flutter. I still didn’t know much about him, certainly nothing I didn’t know already. Asher had thought we would make a good match so there must be something about him that I would like—besides his good looks.
“Hello,” I breathed out, my heart pounding in my ears as I stepped off the final stair.
Patrick smiled down at me his eyes crinkling at the sides. “You look lovely. Asher has outdone himself.”
I blushed and dipped my head down. “He’s really great.”
“I would know,” Patrick chuckled, “He’s my cousin.”
My head jerked up at his words. “What?”
The look on my face must have been more upset than I realized because Patrick quickly tried to explain. “A distant cousin. Not many people know—his request, not mine—something about not wanting to be treated differently because of our relationship.”
“I could see how that would bother him,” I commented.
Asher didn’t seem like the type to want to stand in anyone’s shadow. With his wonderful creations, he wanted to be known for his talents and not have people only like them because of who he was related to. I knew the feeling. All too often I’d been given special treatment in school because of my father, which had made it even harder to make friends. Although, even if I had been able to I wouldn’t have hidden my father; I loved him too much.
“I have to say,” I started after a moment, “I don’t see the family resemblance.” I walked deeper into the room forcing him to choose to follow me or not.
But he did, to my surprise.
“Well,” he said from my side. “Like I said, it’s a distant relationship. I’d be surprised if you had guessed on your own.”
“Still,” I said, stopping at the refreshment table and picked up a glass of something bubbly. “He's so full of life and excitement while you...” I trailed off and then clamped my mouth shut as I realized who I was talking to. I’d pretty much insulted the leader of all of Alban to his fa
ce, while we were on camera. If I didn’t get kicked out for that I’d have to be sure to watch myself in the future.
But I shouldn’t have worried, Patrick threw his head back and laughed. A sound that drew the attention of many females, and even a few males. It was the kind of sound that swept through you and settled low inside making you feel warm and fuzzy.
“You are definitely something else, Clarabelle—I mean Clara.” He caught himself at the last minute as he grinned down at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“So, I’ve been told,” I muttered and buried my face in my glass. Maybe if I drank enough I’d sound something more like a human being.
Patrick wasn’t going to let me wallow though. He took the glass from my hand and sat it on the table and then offered me a hand. “Dance with me.”
It was a command, not a question. One I wanted to obey but before I could an unpleasantly familiar face appeared next to us.
“Fancy meeting you here, Patrick,” Zara cooed completely ignoring my presence as she shoved her way between us.
I stared at the girl in utter revulsion and any good feelings I had begun to harbor for our leader, completely vanished. Without a word, I turned on my heel and pushed my way through the crowd. Rage boiled inside of me as I held my skirts in my hands, not caring who was watching. I didn’t stop until someone caught me by the shoulders, pulling me to the side.
“Marsha.” I almost sighed in relief when I saw his face.
“Where are you going in such a rush?” he asked smiling, but when his eyes focused on my face his expression wilted. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I snapped and then bit the inside of my cheek and changed my answer. “Everything.”
Our eyes met the camera which had started to come our way. We couldn’t talk freely here. Not without having it broadcasted across Alban—or at least the Inner Circle.