“Oh, yes. We go way back. She was a servant at my father’s house.”
Servant. “Such a degrading word used for someone who’s supposed to be your equal.”
“I’m sorry. Her career included cleaning my father’s house and cooking our meals.” He grins. “Is that better?”
“Not really.”
“Apart from what you might think, LeighAnn and I are pretty close. She was more like the mother I never had.”
The softness in his voice takes me off guard. “I thought your mother was alive?”
“Oh, she is. But she spends most of her time at the office, it’s almost like she doesn’t exist.”
“Is she a politician?”
“Of course she is.”
“Oh.” How strange it must be to have both parents away from home all the time, to feel closer to a maid than to your own mother. My mom was always around, but then her career as a seamstress allowed her to work from home. “So, you promised to tell me the rest of the history of the Patrician blood and…antitoxin.”
Rain keeps his gaze straight ahead as we approach the elevator. “In time, Miss Carter.”
“Oh, so it’s Miss Carter now that I’m a Patrician?”
Now he looks at me and arches a brow. “You’ve proven your worth.”
The elevator doors ding open and he leads me inside. I glance at the street below, then turn to face the silver doors. The elevator begins its decent down the hundred stories, and my stomach feels like it’s floating in space. I tighten my grip on Rain’s arm to keep my balance through the swift movement.
“Have you gotten my results yet?” I ask.
“Trust me. When I receive your results, you’ll be the first to know.”
I’m not sure how much longer I can wait until the mystery of my Patrician blood is solved.
Silence hangs in the air as the elevator descends. Questions fill my mind about who this arrogant Rain is, and how he could possibly be related to the polite gentleman Forest Turner. I shouldn’t care. But I do. I have a burning desire to know more about this boy who takes innocent people to prison and commands the Defenders with such an air of confidence and carries a flask of whiskey everywhere he goes.
“So,” I say. “You had a chance to ask me personal questions during my test, and you know more about me than my neighbors at this point. Don’t you think it’s fair that I learn about you?”
“I don’t play fair, Carter.” He look at me and grins. “I’m a Patrician, remember?”
Strange that he would admit that Patricians don’t play fair.
He sighs. “But, I suppose if you ask a few questions, I’ll be inclined to answer…as long as they’re not too personal.”
Fair enough. “Why haven’t you chosen a career yet?”
“First my father, now you?”
“It’s kind of a big deal.”
“Yes. It is. Choosing a career is a huge commitment. I have a lot to think about.”
“It must be nice being able to take time to think, to decide what career you get.”
“You have no idea.”
When the doors open, Rain guides me through the hallways until we reach large arched doors. Music echoes from the room. I didn’t realize the ballroom was connected to the hotel. Two Defenders open the doors for us. Ironic that the Defenders who forced me around the previous week are now opening doors for me.
We step through the archway, and I find myself at the top of a marble staircase. Below is the ballroom, where hundreds of Patricians are dancing. The smell of cinnamon invades my senses. The most beautiful music I’ve ever heard fills the room.
A dome ceiling curves high over the ballroom. A chandelier hanging from the center in dozens of layers illuminates the room with a warm yellow glow. Arched windows run the length of the far wall, stretching up to the ceiling and peering out to the city. Pillars line the other walls, and a balcony overlooks the ballroom floor. Red ribbons hang from the balcony, and tiny yellow lights dip down the ledge of the banisters like icicles, making me almost miss winter.
Some Patricians mingle around a long buffet table laid out with the richest foods I’ve ever seen. And, oh my word, there is so much food. I can’t even name half the things I see. Roasted meats, bowls of fresh fruits, plates with cheese and rolls of bread. It’s a feast fit for a king. Where on earth does all this food come from?
Like me, the women are dressed in elaborate gowns with ruffled hoop skirts, not their usual togas. The men dress in black suits similar to Rain’s. And there are so many people, so many rich people, that my heart begins to pound, and I stand frozen at the top of the stairs. I’ve never wanted to disappear more than I do now, and I take a step back. Shrink back into the hallway, out of existence. Rain tugs on my arm and my feet automatically obey his command.
“Don’t be shy now,” he murmurs in my ear as we descend the stairs. “Most of these people are intrigued by you.”
“They know me?”
“Come, Ember. You’re the talk of the city. The dramatic excitement of the week. The mysterious Patrician. If you don’t feel confident, at least feign confidence. Command the room. Take control of this situation. Make them love you and fear you all at once.”
“How? How in the world does someone do that?”
He lets out a sardonic laugh. “You have a lot to learn about Frankfort, little girl. Lift your chin, look people in the eye when you greet them. Stare them down. You know.” He adds a little bounce when we arrive at the bottom floor. “Put a little more pep in your step.”
Pep in my step? His words always sound foreign, like an idiom from another time. And his character is so insane for the cold Rain I know. I can’t help but laugh. Some of the tension leaves my body as I force my step to match his, lift my chin, and look people boldly in the eye, nodding my greeting.
We weave through the thick mass of Patricians, greeting people, and it takes a moment for me to realize that Rain is purposefully leading me in a specific direction. Where are we going? I look ahead, between the mass of people, and my stomach plummets.
Because we’re headed straight toward Chief Titus Whitcomb’s throne.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
My heart forgets how to pump blood into my system. My feet forget how to walk. All the confidence I’d felt before slowly drains from my body. The chief. I knew he would be here, but I didn't realize I’d have to actually speak with him.
Rain and I approach, and the chief’s eyes snap to attention. Rain bows at the waist, and I curtsy the way LeighAnn taught me.
“Rise,” Chief Whitcomb says.
I straighten, study the man-child who rules this country. He looks even younger in person than he did in his portrait, but has the same green eyes, the same black bowtie, black slacks, black vest over a crisp white shirt. Elegance is the one word I would choose to describe Chief Whitcomb.
And he’s staring right at me, mouth slightly agape. He’s looking at me like he’s seeing a ghost. He looks shocked and guarded and terrified all at once, and I tighten my grip around Rain’s arm until I’m sure I’m about to cut off his circulation, because right now, in this very moment, I want to turn around. I want to run out of the room and not look back. Because, even though the chief is supposed to be loved by his people, I was taught to fear him. And by the way he’s looking at me right now like he would like nothing more than to kill me with his bare hands, I’m completely terrified.
Then he blinks. His mouth breaks into a grin, his piercing green eyes are suddenly shining like this is the best day ever. “Ember Carter.” His voice is fluid. “Welcome to Frankfort. What an honor. What a remarkable honor to have found my sister.”
I almost choke. “What?”
“My Patrician sister. We’re all like one big family around here, you know. We’re all like brothers and sisters with tightly woven friendships.”
Oh. My heart rate slows to its normal pace.
“So tell me,” he says, clearly amused. “Where have you been hiding all
this time?”
“Um.” I didn’t really expect the Chief to pay me any attention, much less ask me personal questions. “I haven’t…been hiding.”
“No? Well. Then I’m just happy we found you before it was too late.”
“Too late for, um, what?”
“You were going to die on the Rebels Circle, yes?”
Oh. Yes. I was going to die yesterday. And you weren’t even going to rescue me. You came. You saw me. And you declared me unworthy of being saved, I want to say, but don’t. Don’t dare open my mouth because whatever I say might just have me sent back to prison. So instead I say, “Thank you. For your warm wel-welcome.”
“No problem.” Titus smiles a little. “Please, enjoy the feast. Drink your heart out and indulge. My city, Miss Carter, is your city.”
His smile deepens, and he holds my gaze like he’s holding onto some kind of secret.
Rain tugs me along, and I’m left wondering what the shoddy inferno just happened. Honestly, if I’d seen Titus on the street anywhere, I would not be afraid of him. He seems friendly, genuine, and I would probably open up to him like I did in The Tap with Forest.
Which is a terrifying thought for so many reasons.
“You okay?” Rain whispers.
“Um. He’s young.”
“Well, yes. He’s Forest’s age.”
“He doesn’t seem mean at all.”
“Who ever said our chief was mean?” Rain asks. “He’s a kind leader who rules with a gentle fist.”
That’s the lie of the century, what, with people dying at the mercy of black tigers and Rebels Circles and starvation taking up the majority of the population.
“I need a drink.” I make my way to the table. My mouth is dry as sand and I need Rain to stop talking while I think.
“Remember, little apple picker,” Rain says. “Confidence. Feign confidence.”
Oh. Right. People are watching and judging and looking for something to gossip about. I force a bold smile, lift my chin, and add the “pep in my step” as we head toward the refreshment table.
“Good,” Rain says. I hear the smile in his voice. “You’re already becoming a Patrician.”
My smile vanishes and I grit my teeth again.
He hands me a glass of red wine. I remember when he gave me the flask of hard liquor in the arena, finding amusement in my inability to down it. Wine is supposed to be more refined. People in the Community Garden call it a luxury drink. But when I take a sip now, I wonder why it’s called a luxury. Because it’s bitter and kind of disgusting and it takes all my energy not to spit the shoddy stuff out. Not nearly as bad as Rain’s whiskey, but not exactly thirst-quenching, either.
“You okay?” Rain asks. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m just more used to the watered-down stuff they serve at The Tap.”
Rain snorts. “You’re going to have to get used to refined alcohol. It’s pretty much all people drink around here.” He passes me a glass filled with a liquid that’s brighter red than the wine. “Perhaps this will better suffice for now.”
I stare at it and begin to wonder if this is another one of Rain’s tricks.
“It’s punch,” he says. “You’ll like it. I promise.”
Accepting the glass, I take a tiny sip, surprised that Rain is actually right. This stuff tastes really, really good, like pure sugar spiked with the tiniest bit of alcohol. I take another drink, then watch the show before me. The Patricians are already dancing a formal dance, which apparently requires at least four people to participate, and I am so incredibly glad Rain hasn’t asked me to dance. Though LeighAnn taught me the main steps, I would rather not look like a complete idiot in front of people who supposedly find me fascinating.
A girl with dark curls whisks up to the table. I recognize her as the girl hanging off Rain’s arm when they were spectating us in the arena.
“Rain, you dirty son of a jackal.” She lightly shoves him and he takes an exaggerated step back.
“Cherry, what was that for?” He lifts his hands in mock defense.
“You stood me up last night. You said you were going to take me for a ride on the ferry.”
He throws his head back and groans like someone’s chopping his leg off. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Cherry. My brother invited Miss Carter here to our house at the last minute, and I couldn’t miss the opportunity to dine with our newest Patrician sister.” He curls long, manicured fingers under her chin and tips it up in the most mocking gesture. “Will you ever forgive me?”
Ugh. My stomach turns at this slightly disgusting display before me.
Cherry’s cheeks bloom scarlet. She looks away and chews her lip, not like she’s in thought, but more like she’s trying to look attractive. It works, of course. “I suppose I can let it slip this once.”
I snort. I can’t help it. She’s so incredibly fake.
She looks at me for the first time, almost like an afterthought. “Miss Carter. So happy that you could join us tonight.”
“My pleasure,” is all I have time to say before two more girls flock to Rain’s side. Their flirtatious giggles grate on every. Single. Nerve. Rain smiles down at them, clearly enjoying their attention. He looks every bit the Patrician, with a glass of fine wine in one hand, his hat just crooked enough to make him appear carelessly handsome, his lips tipped up in an arrogant smile. He laughs at something one of the girls says, and I realize even his fluid laugh has the capacity to make all the girls swoon.
Me? I’m disgusted. This is the Rain I know. The one who flirts and drinks and visits the prison just to patronize so-called criminals. I hate Rain’s dark charm and grace and the sensuality that draws women to him like bees to flowers. I hate his arrogance. I hate him.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and turn my attention to the ballroom. There’s an orchestra in the corner. The musicians must be the best in all of Ky to play in front of the Chief. The melody pouring from their instruments eases my soul, sets my wildly beating heart to a normal pace, and calms my extremely irritated spirit.
Inhale. Exhale. Replenish bad air for good. Everything will be okay.
And maybe it really will. If Titus is as nice as he seemed, then maybe once my records are clear and the mystery of my Patrician blood is figured out, I really will be able to go home.
A familiar voice cuts through the air behind me, and all my tension returns.
“Are you just going to stand there during the Dance of St. Nick?” Forest asks, appearing through the crowd. And I suddenly can’t breathe. He looks so incredibly attractive, dressed in the traditional tuxedo with a dark blue vest that brings out the ocean of his blue eyes.
Olivia’s arm is hooked through his. White beads crown her dark hair, and she wears a sapphire-blue gown without sleeves. Tall with high cheekbones, full lips, and shaped eyebrows, she is much more beautiful––and intimidating––up close. I haven’t spoken to her since Career Day, when Leaf died, and I have to look away to keep from remembering that terrible day. I wonder if she remembers me as vividly as I remember her. I did, after all, punch her.
“Miss Carter, I would like to introduce you to my fiancée, Olivia Doss,” Forest says.
I force a smile at Olivia and curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”
She curtsies back, and though a charming smile graces her features, her eyes are cold and full of unspoken warnings. Warning, no doubt, to stay away from Forest. I hear the message loud and clear.
“Are they still treating you well at the hotel?” Forest asks.
Small talk. I can do this. “Yeah.” I look down at my hands and pretend Olivia’s presence doesn’t completely intimidate me. “It’s a very nice hotel.”
I have a thousand questions to ask Forest, but not in front of Olivia. Awkward silence fills the gap between us. Forest is probably still hurt from what I said to him last night. Olivia seems too proud to converse with a peasant like me. And Rain is, well, Rain. Still flirting with the girls. Finally, Rain manages to esc
ape the flock of pigeons and steps into our circle. Before he can get a word in, I turn to him, desperate to get away from both Forest and Olivia and these extremely awkward piles of silent seconds.
“Will you dance with me?” I can’t believe I just asked him to dance.
Rain sweeps auburn locks out of his eyes and holds his arm out for me. “With pleasure.”
“Perhaps we can join you,” Forest says.
I grit my teeth, but Rain glances back. “Well, we need two more partners to complete the ensemble.”
And before I know it, the four of us are in the center of the dance floor. I face Rain and Olivia faces Forest. Then, as a part of the dance, the group separates and it’s just me and Rain.
“You’re dancing pretty well for a Proletariat, Rainbow Eyes,” Rain says.
“Rainbow eyes?” I ask.
“Your eyes are shaped like a rainbow arches. Always smiling, even when you’re having the most miserable time of your life. No wonder none of the guys here can take their eyes off of you.”
Guys are watching me? Now I really do want to disappear. “It’s because of all the make-up.”
Rain smirks. “Nope. You have a natural beauty that shines, even when you’re covered in sweat and sand as you race around the arena. And you have a perfect dimple right—” He trails his finger down my cheek. “Here.”
I jerk away from his touch. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why not? Afraid you’ll like it too much?”
“I’m afraid I’ll cause the same scene here that I caused in the arena when I punched you.”
His smile vanishes. And now it’s my turn to smile.
“Venus flytrap,” he says.
“What?”
“You draw people in with your charm and then you completely decapitate them.” His smile slowly returns and he releases my hand, taps my nose. “Very Patrician of you.” And then he passes me off to Forest.
I try to remember the dance steps and try my best to not make a complete fool of myself. What will Forest and I possibly talk about? The last time I saw him, I decapitated him, too. I guess it’s a nasty new habit of mine when people aren’t as easygoing as they were in the Garden. Fortunately, Forest speaks first.
black tiger (Black Tiger Series Book 1) Page 17