Elected (The Elected Series Book 1)

by Rori Shay

  I nod and exit the stables, careful to stay under the awning.

  It’s been a long time since we’ve been caught off guard by acid rain. I chide myself that it was under my watch on my first day as Elected. Now I’m not only reeling from my parents’ departure, I’m also frustrated at my inability to protect my people.

  I make my way up to my bedroom and immediately splash water from a basin onto my skin. Thankfully, not much of me was exposed since it was cold outside and I was pretty bundled up. But my face is blistered. I can tell as I look into the cracked mirror over the basin.

  As I run a hand over my broken skin, I can’t help feeling hopeless. I have a rebellion bubbling up, assassination attempts against me, and an environment slowly killing my people. And I’m alone. So utterly alone.

  I give a tortured moan.

  “Your face doesn’t look that bad,” comes a soft voice from behind me.

  I wheel around, surprised someone is sitting on my bed.

  The someone is a girl, and she’s radiant. The rain outside must have stopped because this girl is bathed in light from the window. She looks serene in a white, somewhat sheer gown. Her long blonde hair flows down her back and a string of pale pink flowers circle her head.

  It’s Vienne. I’ve never seen her before today, but I know I’m right. I slowly walk across the room, taking in her presence. She sits with folded hands in her lap.

  At once a rush of feelings envelops me. I’m jealous of her. She’s everything I desire to be. Alluring. Poised. And most of all feminine. But at the same time, I’m proud she’s mine. I feel a wave of possessiveness well up from my stomach to my throat. I’ve never seen any girl who looks like Vienne. I have a strong desire to protect her—to keep her all to myself. She seems delicate, like a gossamer-winged butterfly, but upon closer inspection, I can see the strength she exudes as well. It’s obvious in the firm tilt of her chin and the way she doesn’t break eye contact with me. Hers is a quiet but strong presence. Vienne is utterly enchanting. Every man will want her, but she’s to be my wife.

  When I’m almost in front of her, she turns her face to the nightstand near my bed and picks up a teacup and saucer. Offering it to me, Vienne says, “I thought you might like some mint tea.”

  Vienne’s been raised for this position her whole life. She knows exactly what to say and do politically. It’s a powerful feeling knowing someone was crafted just for you.

  I look down at the delicate china cup in her palm and see three small mint leaves floating in the liquid. I take the tea from her hands, our fingers touching slightly. “Thank you.” My voice still cracks from my fears of a few minutes ago. I sip the liquid, tasting a hint of bitter liquor balancing out the sugar. Vienne prepared it the way I most desire.

  I try to gather myself so I can talk to this girl, my future wife. “I didn’t expect to see you today,” I say.

  “I know it’s customary for us not to meet until our wedding day. “However...” She pauses. “I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

  She doesn’t apologize for breaking the rules. She is more my match than my parents and Tomlin may even have realized.

  “You couldn’t have known about the rain,” she continues. It’s like she’s read my earlier thoughts. “I was watching from up here. The clouds swept in with the wind. No one noticed because it was already so cold.”

  “I need to notice.”

  She doesn’t negate me. Doesn’t placate me. “Well, now I’ll be here to help you notice.”

  And with her words, I know Vienne won’t just be a figurehead by my side. She is like the female leaders from long ago—the ones who, ironically enough, wrote the very Elected and Fertility Accords ruling out the option of women in office.

  I watch her looking at me and eventually, because I don’t know what else to do, I say, “Your hair. It’s like spun gold. Like a princess in the old fairy tales.”

  “You were allowed to read fairy tales? I thought your parents discouraged your reading of fantasies.”

  At the mention of my parents, my eyes grow solemn. I stare past Vienne’s face, concentrating instead on one of my birds in the background.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. It’s not just an apology for bringing up my parents. Her “sorry” holds much more. From her years of instruction on me, she knows all about my parents’ refusal of anything feminine in my childhood.

  I look back at Vienne. “It’s okay. I kept one book hidden under my bed for a while. When I was nine, I burned it in the fireplace.”

  “You burned it yourself?”

  “Yes, I needed to grow up.”

  “What a hard childhood.” She shakes her head.

  “My parents spent their lives getting me to this spot. They were hard on me for a reason. I always knew that. And I always knew I’d miss them come today.”

  “It’s okay to miss them.” The way she whispers her words makes me sit down next to her. I realize I don’t know her story like she knows mine. She’s moving out of her parents’ home now that she’s to be married. It may not be the same as completely losing them, but I’m sure it’s a shock. I realize I’m being callous by not asking her.

  I stand again with my hands on my hips. “When can I meet your parents?” I am resolute, trying to pin a cheerful smile on my face.

  But Vienne doesn’t jump up with the same enthusiasm to match mine. “You can’t. I’ve never even met them.”

  I look down and purse my lips. Was Vienne taken away from her parents long ago to get ready for the Madame Elected role?

  Before I can ponder this for too long she says, “They died right after I was born.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. We must go honor their grave site together on the day of our wedding.”

  “I know it’s the custom, but it won’t be necessary.”

  I stare at Vienne with shock. I know she’ll have to be tough for this role, but not even wanting to honor her parents’ grave site? This is too much.

  Then she laughs slightly. “Don’t look at me that way. I’m not unfeeling. They’re not buried in East Country. I don’t know where they’re buried.”

  This is odd. All our people are buried in formal ceremonies. Even people who broke the Accords and took hemlock are prayed over in specific rituals by the Madame Elected—buried away from the regular graveyard—but still buried in East Country.

  “What happened to them?” I ask.

  “Supposedly, they started showing signs of radiation poisoning when I was young and left.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “No one knows. But they never came back. So I figure they’re deceased.”

  She is so formal in her tone when speaking of them. I want to push the issue. Ask her for more specifics. But then I look at her eyes and realize she’s told me everything she knows. I make a mental note to ask Tomlin more about Vienne’s parents.

  “Where have you lived?”

  Vienne perks up and turns her body so she’s facing me fully. “You don’t know?”

  I shake my head.

  Her answer is simple. “Here.”

  Vienne has lived in this house? Close by me for practically my whole life? And I’ve never known it?

  “What better way to study you than from up close?” She seems amused I hadn’t guessed. “What better way to learn about your family’s ideals and the policies I’ll be upholding now as Madame Elected?”

  “Have I ever seen you before?”

  “Of course! Although I did try to keep a low profile. I’ve been disguised as different maids around your house through the years. You’ve even borrowed some of my disguises. I have quite a few wigs.”

  I’m embarrassed until I realize if Vienne truly knows me, then she already understands my desire to be more feminine. I don’t have to hide from her the fact I’ve often daydreamed about being a girl with long flowing hair.

  I think back to the new maids I’ve seen flit in and out of my house over the past years. The ones who alwa
ys looked sort of the same but with different colored hair—red, black, and yellow blonde—sometimes so straight it seemed like pieces of plastic. I realize my subconscious was smarter than my eyes. They were all the same girl.

  “Sorry,” I say, my hand now on my brow. “I didn’t know the wigs I found in one of the rooms were yours. When I was younger, before I mastered this charade,” I explain, my hand gesturing to my masculine attire, “I wasn’t really allowed out. So I used to explore the house. I shouldn’t have trespassed into the maids’ bedrooms.”

  “It’s nothing. Don’t apologize. I never did get the blonde one back, though, since your mother tossed it into the fire.” Her eyebrows rise in amusement.

  I choke out a tortured laugh, remembering my mother’s scolding just two weeks earlier. I want to say more. Ask Vienne about the many other times we’ve seen each other. Talk to her more about the night I snuck out. How, as the red headed maid, her dare to sneak out had gone wildly wrong. Did she know the danger I’d been in? And I want to talk to her about my parents. I miss them now, and I want desperately to tell her about it.

  But the moment is interrupted by an urgent knock at the door, and at once it’s pulled open.

  A surprised guard stands in the frame, looking back and forth from Vienne to me.

  I snap him out of the trance. “What is it?”

  He coughs, remembering himself and that he shouldn’t be staring so fervently at this vision of an angel that is Vienne. I have a premonition that, for the rest of our lives, Vienne’s beauty will render people speechless, and I will be an accessory on the fringe. But I shake off the feeling, instead focusing on the guard’s worried face.

  “Elected,” he says, “we have another accused.”

  At once, I am at attention, poised behind the guard, exiting the room after him. I look back quickly at Vienne. Her face is grave. She gives me one steadfast nod, and I raise my chin back at her in a goodbye.

  “Is it the assassin?” I’m almost hopeful as we round the corner.

  “Unfortunately, no, Elected. The scoundrel is still on the run. This accused is in possession of a unique technology.”

  “Unique? They’re all unique.”

  The guard leads me out of the house. I keep pace with his brisk walk to the prisoner’s quarters, almost running to keep up with him. I wonder why we’re hurrying so fast. A prisoner just caught isn’t going anywhere. What must this technology be?

  At the entrance to the prison, I already see Tomlin standing outside. He gestures me in, his fingers tapping fast on his temple. I stare into his eyes intently. And then I see it.

  He’s excited.

  It’s unmistakable. Whatever’s been found has rendered Tomlin giddy.

  “Tomlin, is it dangerous? A bomb?”

  Tomlin’s eyes dart back and forth to see if anyone is close enough to hear us. He leads me to a corner of the room, away from the guards who are watching us like hawks.

  Tomlin’s actions are so odd, so out of character for him, suddenly I’m worried. The guards are watching us differently than usual. A wash of fear overtakes me. Is Tomlin the accused? Is he the one in possession of the technology? Is he the prisoner?

  Before I can delve too deeply into that nightmare, Tomlin grasps my wrists. “Elected, it’s a Mind Multiplier. I’ve never seen one before. Only read about these. You must come see it.”

  I breathe a sigh. So it’s not a deadly bomb or a weapon threatening to destroy my people.

  I follow Tomlin down a long corridor, past the set of wooden prisoner doors. I vaguely think about the fact that behind one of these doors sits our accused right now, awaiting his fate. All of the doors start to look alike until Tomlin eventually stops in front of one. A guard moves aside as the door is opened for us.

  The room is empty except for a wooden table in the center. On it sits a helmet with wires crisscrossing all around. I pick it up, turning it over in my hands.

  “Careful,” Tomlin warns. But his voice is still giddy.

  I look for a battery pack or some sort of solar panel, but I don’t find one. “How is it powered?”

  “By the pulsing of blood in the wearer’s temples. Utterly amazing.”

  I look over at him with my eyebrows furrowed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually happy to see this technology.”

  Tomlin finally checks himself, aware now that it appears he’s pleased to see the helmet.

  “I apologize.” His voice is an octave lower. “It is still technology, yes. Something we cannot have. But it is one of the most remarkable pieces I have ever heard about. So rare. Only a few were made over two hundred years ago before the Accords. I never imagined one would still exist.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It is just what the name states. It multiplies your mind.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  Tomlin smiles. “It lets you see things your mind has locked away. Things you didn’t remember you’d seen or heard. And sometimes on rare instances, it taps into a certain clairvoyance to give you pictures of the future or past you weren’t physically present to see when they happened. Let me show you. May I?” He walks toward me with the helmet outstretched, ready to attach the various plugs onto my skin.

  “Is it safe?” I know putting on the helmet constitutes technology use, but it’s better we know what the thing is and if it’ll be a danger to our country.

  “As safe as increased knowledge ever is,” Tomlin says.

  I nod, letting Tomlin secure the helmet on my head. At once I’m tired of his riddles. Tired of his excitement over this piece of metal. I just want to sleep. I realize I still haven’t slept since spending all night with my parents. I feel the urge to sink down onto the floor right now and collapse onto a warm pillow.

  But, before I can fully let myself melt into a puddle, the helmet is fastened firmly on my head. It stings as the metal knobs pinch into the sides of my scalp.

  “It’s too tight,” I complain.

  “It’s supposed to be tight.” For the first time, he’s not worried about my well-being. He’s engrossed in this technology, and it makes me mad. I want to fling the contraption off my head. I’m starting to reach up to my chin to do just that, when Tomlin pushes a button on the helmet and the whole thing starts humming.

  It’s not a hum exactly. It overtakes my ears with singing. It’s the voice of my mother, humming softly to me as I fall asleep the previous night. I can hear it so clearly. At once I’m awake and asleep at the same time. I’m utterly relaxed.

  And I’m thinking. My mind is so open and malleable. I think of Vienne back in my room and how much I want to keep her safe from any assaults by the Technology Faction. I think of my parents and where they’re heading in Mid Country. I almost see them right now in front of me, walking alongside their horses through the freezing countryside. They are close enough to be touched. I reach out.

  And then a different image comes across my mind. I’m at the town hall meeting. The one where the assassin tried to kill me with the barrage of long arrows. I see Griffin looking at me. I take in his image, free now to drink in the sight of him without anyone noticing. His cheekbones are high and his hair is strewn across one eye. I want to reach out and push it off his forehead for him. More than anything, I want to touch him. But then he’s looking backward. Fearful. He is watching. So keenly watching. I see an arrow coming for me in slow motion. And I watch Griffin. He sees the arrow too.

  But instead of watching me, Griffin’s face is pointed toward the back of the amphitheater.

  He sees who launched the arrow.

  10

  All of a sudden, the helmet is off. I’ve ripped it from my head without knowing I was even touching it. I smash it onto the floor, screaming.

  Tomlin is there, holding my arms back, trying to grab the helmet from me.

  “Elected!” he screeches, imploring. “Aloy! Aloy!”

  It is his use of my given name that finally breaks through my haze.<
br />
  “I saw... I saw...” The words won’t come.

  “You thought clearly. Of multiple thought threads all at the same time. Things locked in your head. And now they’re out.”

  I calm, knowing Tomlin understands. “Yes. I saw... saw...”

  I can’t seem to form words now. It’s like my brain capacity increased for the period the helmet was on my head. Who knows how long that even was? And now that the helmet is off, my thoughts are back down to their normal size. Their normal capacity. Which isn’t big at all, I realize, dejected.

  And I want that helmet back on my head. Now.

  I grasp for it like a blind man finding his spectacles, but Tomlin holds my hands back behind me. I cry out, exasperated.

  “You must wait. Too many increased brain threads aren’t good. It will overload you. You can’t put the helmet back on right now.”

  I fall onto the floor, into the puddle I desired earlier. Tomlin sits on the ground by me.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he says in awe.

  “Yes. But my head aches.” I find I can only make small sentences.

  “It will ache for just a few minutes more as your brain capacity returns to normal.”

  “Where did this thing come from?”

  “Only the prisoner knows,” Tomlin says. “Unfortunately, it seems the information is locked in the accused’s head. Too much use of the helmet, I’m afraid.”

  “With great technology comes great burden.” I am quoting my father.

  “Are you ready to stand up now?” I try my feet. They’re gelatinous, but at least they support me. “What did you see or hear?” Tomlin asks.

  “My mother’s singing. Does everyone hear that?”

  Tomlin laughs. “No. It’s different for each person. It’s based on your own brain waves. Did you see anything?”

  My hand runs the length of my brow, massaging my temples in frustration. “It’s hard to remember.”

  “It’s ok, don’t push too hard.”

  “I saw my parents,” I say suddenly. “They’re somewhere cold.”

  Tomlin nods. “Anything else?”

  I concentrate hard. There was something else. I can almost taste the feeling of it. The anger. The betrayal. I yell without thinking. “Get me Griffin, now! NOW!”