The Choosing

by Rachelle Dekker

  Arianna searched Carrington’s face like a child looking for the answer to a riddle, but after a long moment, she gave up. “I see. Well, you will be missed tonight.”

  They stood awkwardly as the seconds passed and finally Arianna spoke. “I should let you get back.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably best.”

  Arianna turned to leave but stopped. She lightly spun on her heels and came within inches of Carrington’s face. She grabbed both of Carrington’s hands and held them firmly in her own. Her eyes dug into Carrington’s soul, pushing away the fragile barrier that held her captive.

  “I fear for you in the days to come. You may not have seen the entire picture of your true self, but you have glimpsed parts of her. Cling to those when you begin to forget, when those around you threaten to destroy your truth. Remember Aaron’s words. They may save your life, as they did mine.”

  She leaned forward and placed a kiss on Carrington’s cheek. “I’ll have one of my guards escort you back.” She released Carrington’s hands, turned, and floated away.

  A shiver coursed through Carrington’s body as if she were standing in a cold breeze and the blanket she used to protect herself from the chill had been yanked away.

  “Let’s go,” the CityWatch guard said, and he started back toward the factory.

  Carrington followed, the world around her encapsulated by a dense fog. She felt blinded by the desperation Arianna had stirred. From one moment to the next, her confidence in what was real seemed to follow the swing of a pendulum—walls sturdy, foundation firm in an Authority-manufactured world, happy to be dreaming of her upcoming wedding; then mired in a pit of uncertainty that anything she’d ever believed was true, that perhaps Aaron, Larkin, and Arianna were right and she was more than just cattle to be bought and sold.

  Carrington shook off the fog, and the noises of life whirred into motion. Her unsettled mind was wearing on her physical well-being and she suddenly felt like collapsing. The factory came into view and the pendulum flung itself back to the harsh truth that she had to return to work in a place she hated, in a world the Authority had created and ruled. To flirt with the idea that there were any other viable options simply caused unnecessary pain.

  Carrington was sick of suffering. She wouldn’t let her mind be distracted by Aaron’s words again. She would build a brick wall around herself and shut out the possibility that he could penetrate her world again. She would stop contemplating this notion of identity. It didn’t matter who she was; it only mattered what she was, and currently she was the betrothed of Isaac Knight and potential future mother of an Authority chair holder.

  Enough was enough. She was finished with these diversions.

  19

  Carrington sat patiently and waited for Isaac to return. They were having dinner together again and he’d been pulled away to take a call from the Capitol Building regarding an urgent Authority matter. His muffled voice seeped through the wall, but no matter how quietly Carrington sat, she couldn’t make out any of the words.

  As she strained to hear, she was suddenly startled by footsteps announcing Isaac’s return. Fearing her future husband might catch on to her attempts to eavesdrop, Carrington shoved a bit of baked chicken in her mouth. Isaac stepped back into the room and Carrington hurriedly swallowed.

  “My apologies, but it appears I need to cut our dinner short,” Isaac said.

  Carrington dabbed the corners of her mouth with the napkin in her hand. “Oh—I hope everything is all right.”

  “The Authority Council has been convened for an emergency trial. I must attend.”

  “Of course. I’ll just head back.”

  Isaac paused a moment and then half smiled. “Would you like to accompany me?”

  “To the Capitol Building?”

  “Yes. You’ll not be allowed to attend the trial, but there is so much history in the building that I have been eager to show you. It seems that the timing may be perfect.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

  “You won’t be, and I would enjoy your company.”

  Carrington, aware that her face was warming, nodded her agreement. She stood and followed Isaac toward the front of the house. An attendant had her coat waiting and she was escorted outside, where a CityWatch car idled. For a split second, Carrington feared it might be Remko or Helms behind the wheel and was relieved to see the face was not one she recognized.

  The ride wasn’t long and passed mostly in silence. Isaac had been provided a file to review, so Carrington stayed quiet and watched the stars as they flew by above. Her mind began to churn over what could be so important that the entire Authority was being called in. It was a trial, which meant someone had been caught breaking a law, and to bring everyone together at this hour meant it must be a severe offense.

  But how serious could it be if Isaac had requested her company? Carrington’s heart fluttered at the thought of being wanted. The truth was, even with the subtle nagging that warned her to be careful, Isaac’s reputation didn’t seem to fit what she had seen of him. Even with warnings from people she cared about, it was impossible to deny the way he made her feel. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before. He wanted her, had chosen her. Maybe the uneasiness was just nerves. Maybe the cautioning was just from a lack of understanding.

  When they reached the Capitol, the car crossed through an outer gate that connected one massive wall on the left with another massive wall on the right. The inside lawn stretched like green fingers, their perfectly-trimmed nails the stone blocks at the base of the circling wall. It was hard to make out much of the landscape in the night lighting, but Carrington could imagine the work it took to keep it presentable.

  The Capitol Building itself was one of the oldest buildings still standing from before the Ruining. It stretched in both directions, long, lean claws searching for something to pierce, its centerpiece rising toward the dark sky. Along the outside walls, windows stood every couple of feet, golden light cascading down and across the closest patches of grass. The Histories taught that the building had once been a museum, a place for people to come and experience the past through recovered artifacts. Now it served as the general meeting place for all official Authority business. The light-red brick exterior exuded the essence of a moment captured in the past, architecture reflecting what came before, yet standing as a symbol of the future.

  The vehicle pulled up to the front and Carrington followed Isaac out of the car and into the imposing structure. Guards were posted at every corner of the building, their presence noticeable without being obtrusive. Isaac led Carrington across an outrageous lobby gilded on every surface and clad in marble. She couldn’t have taken it all in even if she’d wanted to, because Isaac was moving quickly and she needed to keep close.

  He stepped into an adjoining room much smaller in size but with a similar feel. It seemed to be a waiting area with several ornate couches and chairs, side tables made from rich woods, a grand piano that sparkled under the warm light, and long, thick curtains that blanketed the windows.

  “I trust you’ll be comfortable in here. If you need anything just ask a guard,” Isaac said.

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Carrington said.

  “I shouldn’t be long,” Isaac said, giving her arm a pat before leaving.

  She walked around the room slowly. Each square inch was as beautiful as the next. From the crown molding to the inlay of the floor, the entire room held the majesty of castles in faraway lands. The thought made Carrington smile as she remembered the time her father had gotten in trouble for telling her a silly story about a girl named Cinderella. Carrington’s mother had rebuked him for filling their tiny daughter’s head with nonsense, but when she and her father were alone, he had finished the daring tale and sent her small mind spinning into an imaginary world that she’d wished existed.

  It had been their secret, the story of brave Cinderella, but Carrington had long ago stopped dreaming about the princess with golden hair
who sang to birds and had tiny mice as friends. Sitting here, though, with dreams of being Isaac’s wife dancing in her head, it was hard to ignore the longing. She really was going to live the fairy tale.

  “The Authority wants to see the accused,” a voice said.

  Two arches interrupted the west wall of the room, revealing the Grand Lobby. Voices drifted in and bounced around the room as if the speaker were standing directly behind her. Carrington’s curiosity ran wild and she edged closer to the opening to see if she could catch a glimpse of what was happening. There were a handful of guards standing around the entrance. They were collecting something from another group of CityWatch members outside.

  People, Carrington thought. They are escorting in the accused. She couldn’t see their faces but could tell their hands were bound as they were being led across the lobby toward a set of large doors. She wondered what they had done. There were two of them, one much shorter with long curly hair. A woman and a man, Carrington realized. A man dressed in all black and a woman in gray.

  Carrington’s heart lurched. A Lint and a guard.

  Carrington moved her head, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl’s face through the gap between the surrounding guards’ shoulders, but had no luck. The Lint stumbled and nearly fell. A guard yanked her violently back to her feet.

  “Don’t hurt her,” the male prisoner yelled.

  Carrington nearly fell over as if a wooden hammer had swung down out of the sky and rammed against her chest, knocking all of her air elsewhere. She knew that voice.

  Another guard chuckled and pushed the Lint so that this time she did fall to her knees. She cried out and the male prisoner fought against the hands holding him back. Carrington tried to reason away what she’d heard, mark it as a mistake, an impossibility. The Lint turned to glare up at the guards above her and finally Carrington saw her face. Carrington’s knees threatened to buckle. She stepped out of her secure room and headed toward the group standing at least twelve feet away.

  “Miss,” a guard posted outside the arch called.

  Carrington barely registered his voice and kept moving.

  The guard’s hand fell lightly on her shoulder and she turned. “Miss, you can’t be out here,” he said.

  The attention of the other group shifted and Carrington felt their eyes on her. She turned back to the unbelievable scene unfolding in front of her and locked eyes with the girl, who was now back on her feet.

  The girl’s familiar features twisted in surprise. The moment stilled around them, Carrington’s heart booming and drowning out any other sound. The dear face of the Lint turned from surprise to bitterness, her eyes filling with tears. Carrington went to step forward again, but the hand on her shoulder held her back.

  “Come on, you two,” a guard in the group said, and the entire bunch started to move away, yanking the prisoners in tow. Carrington held the girl’s eyes for one more second before she turned her face and the entire room exploded into motion.

  “Miss, I need you to go back inside the visitors’ room,” the guard behind her said.

  “Wait! I know them—there must be a mistake,” Carrington said.

  “Come on,” the guard said, gently tugging on her arm.

  “That’s Larkin and Helms. I know them. . . .”

  The guard stepped around so that he was face-to-face with Carrington, his eyes troubled. “I know them too.”

  Carrington could hardly fight the urge to rush after them, but instead she allowed the guard to slowly escort her back into the elaborate room she’d come from. He motioned for her to sit down. She did and he moved back to one of the two arches, gestured toward someone, and then placed himself as a barrier in front of the open space. A second guard did the same in the second arch and Carrington understood she was not leaving this room.

  She forced herself to take deep breaths and tried to ease the shaking in her hands. Larkin and Helms were the accused being taken in front of the Authority. For what, she could only imagine. The knowledge played cruel, nasty tricks that had her trembling in fear for her friends while she sat like a princess with golden hair in a decorated prison.

  Time was as cruel as her imagination, more cruel perhaps, because she had absolutely no control over it. It felt as if the night had stretched into day and then back into night, even though the sun had never come up to shine through the windows. Carrington knew it couldn’t have been that long, but her logic was losing its foothold as the minutes drizzled past in slow motion.

  Images tormented her, spiraling through her mind in a vicious cycle. Larkin hidden in a dark, cramped space, screaming for help; Helms chained in a cellar, his hands fixed over his head, dried blood on his face; Larkin curled in a shivering ball, held deep underground in a damp cell; Helms publicly hanged, his legs wriggling under him; Larkin burned at the stake, her flesh crackling under the heat; Helms shot; Larkin beheaded. Cruel, merciless punishment dictated by the Authority for breaking their law—for listening to Aaron, for seeing each other.

  Round after round, the snapshots haunted Carrington. A small voice tried to break through the thundering panic, reminding her she didn’t have all the information, that their infraction could be minor and might only dictate a slap on the wrist. The voice screamed for her to be reasonable and not lose her head, but those words got caught up in the whirling tornado of fear for her friends.

  Finally the doors through which Larkin and Helms had been led creaked open and Carrington was on her feet. She rushed to the archway and stood behind the guard keeping his post. She watched them drag Larkin from the room, her arms behind her back, her legs kicking, her voice screaming, tears glistening on her cheeks.

  “Let me go! Helms, please don’t!” Larkin wailed.

  “What’s happening?” Carrington asked.

  The guard didn’t even break the rhythm of his breathing, as if he hadn’t heard her question.

  “Please, someone stop them! Helms!” Larkin cried. Her voice echoed off the high ceiling and Carrington felt the weight of Larkin’s plea crush against her heart. The large doors that had released Larkin closed without any sign of Helms or the Authority.

  “What is happening?” Carrington asked again. Nothing.

  The guards wrestled Larkin past the room where Carrington waited and Larkin saw her. “Carrington, Carrington, please help me. They’ll kill him!”

  Carrington could see her friend’s face clearly now, her skin caked with a mixture of tears and dirt, her eyes red from crying, her complexion pale and splotchy. Determination flooded Carrington and she ducked under and around the CityWatch guard who stood like stone before her.

  “Miss—” he said, but Carrington was headed to Larkin.

  “What is going on?” she asked.

  “You have to help him; they’ll kill him, Carrington.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  The guard’s hands came down on both of her shoulders and pulled her backward. She wrenched away and he wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her from reaching Larkin.

  “Let go of me,” Carrington said, struggling against his grasp. “Larkin, wait!” The other guards were already pulling Larkin farther away, her screams for help still bouncing off the walls.

  “Please, let me go speak with her,” Carrington said.

  The guard said nothing, but picked her up and carried her back to what had clearly become her prison cell. He placed her inside the room and released his hold. He moved back to his spot without so much as a glance toward Carrington.

  Her breathing came in ragged gasps and she tried to think of a way to escape. Both exits were blocked; both guards outweighed her by double; she was trapped in this pristine hole with no choice but to wait.

  Larkin had seemed convinced that whatever she and Helms were being accused of could actually get Helms killed. That couldn’t be possible. The Authority hadn’t executed anyone in ages. She must have been mistaken—or at least that’s what Carrington was desperately trying to get herself to believe. She
tried to ignore the terror she’d seen in Larkin’s eyes, ignore the way her body had been shaking, the fear in her voice.

  “Miss,” the guard said. He was standing in front of her. She hadn’t even noticed his approach.

  “Authority Knight asked us to see you back to the Stacks. He sends his apologies, but the trial seems to be taking longer than anticipated. He promises to show you the rest of the Capitol Building another time.”

  “Oh,” Carrington said. She’d hoped somewhere deep inside that when Isaac came to retrieve her he’d be able to tell her what had happened, to assure her that Larkin’s fears were unfounded.

  Two other guards joined the one standing before Carrington and the three led her out the main door and to a CityWatch car.

  The farther she traveled from the Capitol Building the more panicked she became. What if Larkin had been right? What if right now the Authority was deciding to have Helms killed for his transgressions? Larkin had begged Carrington for help and Carrington just let the guards lead her away. If Helms did die, Larkin would never forgive her. Carrington wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive herself.

  20

  The night felt endless. When the sun appeared, Carrington had finally eased her own distress. She’d reasoned with herself that there was nothing she could have done; it wasn’t as if she could have stormed into the Authority chambers to demand they release Helms. She would only have gotten herself and Helms in more trouble.

  But her rationalization didn’t stop Larkin’s terror-struck face from floating across Carrington’s vision every few minutes. When she wasn’t battling to keep her friends off her mind, she was fighting the endless questions of what and why. She needed to talk to Larkin but had no idea where she was. It would be foolish to think she would be at the factory for work that day; even so, Carrington’s heart dropped a little when she never showed up.