Elected (The Elected Series Book 1)

by Rori Shay

  “And she carries no anger against me or East Country? Will she be any threat to us?”

  “I’m not sure. She wants to get back to her family, so she’s trying her best to gather enough information so we’ll let her return. She wants to see her children.”

  “So she has strong motivation to cooperate?” I calculate Margareath as a resource.

  “Yes, but be careful with her. She’s desperate to return. In some ways that’s just as dangerous.”

  I nod, taking Vienne’s psychology lesson to heart. She looks down, seemingly disheartened.

  “It’ll be ok, Vienne.”

  “You’ll both be gone when I give birth,” she murmurs. “I know it is a small thing in light of everything. But I just thought... I imagined...”

  “Maybe I can sneak back in at the right time. Still be here. We’ll meet every two weeks like you were going to do with Margareath. I’ll be able to see you when your time is near.”

  “You can meet me for a little while, but when we start nirogene collection again, we’ll put up armor glass along the entire border. We won’t be able to talk after that. And by the time I’m ready to give birth, you’ll be very pregnant too. It won’t be safe for you to keep traveling back to the border.”

  “Take heart. I won’t leave you destitute. We’ll find a way.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Here you’ve granted me ruling power over the country, something a woman hasn’t done in over almost a hundred years, and I’m thinking about myself, not the country.”

  I’m still for a moment. “A woman did watch over this country in the last hundred years. Me.” I reach out and hold her hand within mine. “When they find out it was a pair of women saving us, everyone will have to admit the Fertility Accord is ridiculous.”

  Vienne gives a slight laugh. Then she grows serious again. “If you can’t cross the border or meet me at the armor glass, it’s okay. Promise me you’ll be careful. You’re carrying a baby now too. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

  Her warning is almost laughable as the risks I’m taking just by crossing into Mid Country are huge. But I don’t negate her words. “I’ll be as careful as possible.”

  “You come back to take the Elected position. You hear me? Promise me!” Vienne’s voice is urgent.

  “I will. I promise.”

  She stares at me, unwavering as her eyes are locked on mine. “All right.” She stands and fixes her skirt back around her legs. “Then let’s tell Griffin our plan.”

  We walk back into his side of the prison. Again he’s sitting on the cot with his head in his hands, but he stands when the door opens.

  “What’s going on?” he asks, seeing our serious faces.

  We request the guards to give us some privacy and then walk close to Griffin. No one must hear our plans.

  “We have to go, Griffin,” I say.

  He looks down. “Yes, I agree. You and Vienne, you shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be seen with me.”

  “No! That’s not what I mean.”

  “She means you and she need to leave,” says Vienne. She puts a hand on Griffin’s arm. I can’t tell if it’s to steady him or to give herself something to lean on as she utters these words. “We won’t let the execution happen, and Aloy... she wants to see for herself what Mid Country is planning.”

  We tell him the details of our plan and what we’ll need from him. Griffin is quiet, listening to everything. I tell him my reasons for needing to leave. All of them except the pregnancy. For some reason, that’s the one thing I don’t reveal. It doesn’t seem right to tell him in prison like this. Vienne looks at me, but my eyes beg her to let the secret go untold for now.

  I tell Griffin how the executions work. How it’s up to the prisoner to decide when to drink the hemlock. How when he or she is ready, the drink is brought in, and I’m called to watch. How there’s a window into his room from which guards will watch him drink the poison, so he’ll have to put on the act. We give him the details of how we plan to break him out of prison. How we don’t have time to say goodbye to anyone, including Brinn or Tomlin. Griffin nods, taking it all in. When we finish a few minutes later, we both get up to leave. Me to gather provisions for our trip and Vienne to procure the items she’ll need for the break-out.

  “Around seven, tell the guards you’re ready for the hemlock,” I say. “Then they’ll come get me. That should give us enough time to run to the hills by midnight.”

  Griffin stands again as we both exit the room.

  “Don’t you dare drink anything before we come back,” Vienne says.

  Griffin manages a small smile. “I promise, I won’t take a sip.”

  “Good,” Vienne says, her voice breaking in her throat. She walks up near to him again, standing at his side. She grips his arm with one hand and her stomach with the other. “Griffin, thank you for this baby. Whatever happens after this, I’ll always have this from both of you.” She looks from Griffin to me and back again. “You both take care of each other. Griffin, I’m relying on you to get Aloy home again. Do you understand?”

  Griffin says, “I’ll do everything in my power. You take care of that baby. Give it the best life, all right?” He talks like he’ll never see it.

  Griffin bends down and gives Vienne a long hug. When Vienne turns she has tears in her eyes. She walks steadily out of the room without looking back. I proceed after her but then glance once more at Griffin. He stares out after me, his eyes firm. When we lock eyes, I know we’re thinking the same things.

  We both know there’s a chance neither of us will be back to see Vienne’s baby or East Country ever again.

  Then I turn and follow Vienne out to the lobby.

  By seven that night, when there’s a tap on our door and the guards come to get me, we’re both ready. No one questions that for this particular prisoner, both Vienne and I go to watch the suicide. We each take a horse and follow the guards who walk in front of us on foot. It’s a slow pace, and I can’t help my heart from beating hard in my chest.

  Vienne and I leave the horses as close to the prison doors as possible. Then we walk in through the lobby. I take a long look around, knowing I won’t see this gruesome building again for a long time. We get to Griffin’s cell and are escorted to the viewing section.

  The crystal cup of hemlock sits on Griffin’s side of the floor, halfway between the cot and the armor glass. Griffin is standing next to it. The door to his side of the room is locked. I shut the door to our room softly. There’s no window on our side, so Vienne and I will be free to express ourselves without anyone watching. I see a guard peering in through the window on Griffin’s side, but he steps back out of view when our eyes meet, giving us a slight bit of privacy. So now it is just me, Vienne, and Griffin staring at each other.

  Vienne walks to the glass and puts a hand up to it. Griffin follows suit, bowing his head to each of us. He puts his hand up to the glass to match Vienne’s. And then he beckons me forward with his other hand. I oblige him and Vienne, flattening my palm against the glass too. The three of us stand in a triangle, our hands across from each other through the clear material.

  After a moment, Griffin nods his head resolutely and backs up. Vienne and I do the same, moving to sit on the wooden bench away from the glass. Griffin picks up the crystal cup and puts it to his lips. I close my eyes for a second, asking the heavens for help to ensure not a drop happens to touch his lips in the ensuing process. I know what the cup holds. Pure, unadulterated, hemlock. As was our plan, Vienne did not sneak to the guards to replace the clear fluid with sleeping draught as she did for Margareath. What Griffin holds in front of him is the real thing.

  I open my eyes again and see Griffin clutching the glass close to his face. His eyes look strange—far away, like he’s thinking of something else. I have a creepy feeling like spiders walking across the inner walls of my stomach. At that moment, I beg the heavens for something else. That Griffin will truly follow our predetermined plan. That he won’t t
ake it upon himself now to change tactics and remove himself from the complicated situation, thinking it would be better for us.

  I stare at him, willing Griffin to do what we decided. Not to take matters into his own hands. Suddenly, I’m not sure why I didn’t consider Griffin’s intentions more closely when hatching my plan. Drinking the hemlock would be just like him—careless for his own life if he thought his actions would protect me. Like when he got between me and the long arrows at the town hall. He never actually said he’d follow our plan. He only listened to us. If he took himself out of the equation now, then I might not cross into Mid Country. I would still be here to watch over Vienne and fulfill my Elected duties. I’m sure he thinks it would be safer for me to stay. As he lingers over the cup, I’m tempted to run out of the room and smash open the door on his side, flinging the hemlock out of his hand.

  Vienne grips my hand hard, cutting off all the blood from the area. She must be worried about the same thing, but she refuses to take her eyes off Griffin to look at me.

  I won’t be fast enough. If I bolt out of this room into Griffin’s, he’ll still be able to finish drinking some of the liquid. So I stare at him too, just shaking my head back and forth, tears already starting to stream from my eyes. Don’t you dare do it, I think. Don’t you dare. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare!

  What he doesn’t realize is his death won’t protect me. It will kill me.

  Griffin moves the cup away from his face so we can see his lips. He mouths one last word to us and then lifts the cup back up to his mouth. “Goodbye.”

  I jump up, banging my hands against the armor glass. “Nooooo!” I’m screaming. Tears gush down my face. I’m sure the guards outside the doors can hear me yell, but I don’t care. All I can think of is stopping Griffin.

  Then abruptly, he tilts his head back. The liquid travels past his face, and the glass crashes in back of him onto the floor. Immediately, blood bubbles out of his lips. He falls to the floor, thrashing, his arms rigid but moving in spasms at his sides. He gasps and his whole body shakes.

  I’m still screaming, holding on to Vienne hard with my fingers digging into her shoulders. I see tears falling from her eyes too, but she utters no sound. I can barely look across the glass to Griffin’s body. After a few more excruciating moments, he’s finally still. I rub my arms across my face, trying to rid my eyes of the tears that refuse to stop flowing.

  I have to see him. Now! I burst open the door to our side of the room, Vienne close behind. We get to the door leading into Griffin’s side where two guards are standing outside.

  “Let us in, please.” Vienne says, her voice resonating with calmness I can’t muster at the moment.

  “Are you sure, Electeds?” the man asks. “The process might not yet be complete.”

  “Let us in,” says Vienne softly. Her voice is quiet but still holds immense authority.

  “Yes, Madame.”

  “Would you mind closing the shutter?” she asks. “We’d like a few minutes of privacy with Griffin’s body.”

  “Of course,” says the guard, his eyes deferential, set on the floor. He avoids my red face. I realize he’s one of the same guards who presided over Maran’s death. I wonder if he’s still thinking about what the term “lesbian” means. But before I can wonder if he’s deciphered the word, the guard complies with our wishes and unlocks the door to Griffin’s room.

  I run in and fall to the floor next to his body. Vienne follows but watches the door in back of us until it clicks closed and the shutter indeed moves across the window, blocking the guards’ view of us.

  Then she turns to us both on the floor. “Griffin, it’s okay now,” she says. “Get up.”

  36

  I watch intensely as Griffin’s head moves. Then his arm comes up. He grips me around the wrist. Finally, his eyes open and his mouth turns into a rueful grin.

  “Jerk!” I yell.

  “What?” he asks, smiling wickedly. “You wanted it to look convincing.” He licks the blood from his lips where he bit himself to create the effect. The cup of hemlock is strewn across the concrete.

  “It was a little too real,” I say. “There was... the blood and all. I don’t think I told you about that part.”

  “Vienne told me.”

  Vienne turns to me. “I’m sorry, Aloy. But we needed it look authentic. The guards specifically looked for your reaction when we walked out of the viewing room.” I glance at my wife with surprise. She’s calculating when she needs to be. Not a wilting flower at all.

  “Be careful,” says Vienne to Griffin and me. “Make sure not to touch any of it.” She points to the hemlock droplets strewn over the floor. “If it gets onto your hands and then you happen to touch your face later, the stuff might still be potent.”

  “She’s right,” I say, getting up gingerly, and pulling Griffin’s arm to lift him. I’m still dazed from my concern over Griffin, but I realize the need to move fast. We only have minutes to pull off the next phase of our plan.

  Vienne stands guard by the door to make sure no one intrudes and the shutter stays closed. She pulls a cloak out from underneath her own. Griffin catches it across the room and pulls it around himself. He and Vienne both take off their shoes as we planned. Vienne wraps the laces of Griffin’s boots up her calves, stuffing socks into the toes. Griffin pinches her dainty slippers onto his feet and pulls her cape down so it’s covering most of the footwear. His heels stick out the back of her shoes.

  Next, Griffin lifts the hood of his cape up over his head. Vienne takes off her own cape and lies down on the floor, ensuring none of her exposed skin touches the stream of hemlock. With their identical capes both on, it’ll be hard to tell them apart in the dark. The hardest part will still be getting them through the lit building, though.

  We spread Vienne’s cape across her, so no parts of her body show, except for the tips of Griffin’s boots. When we think we’re ready, we knock on the door for the guards to let us out.

  “Thank you,” I say to them when they open it. I try to act like I’m still composing myself. I don’t look them in the eyes and neither does Griffin who stands next to me, bent over, clutching his stomach. We need him to look shorter so he can match Vienne’s height. Her pregnancy is something we can use.

  “Are you all right, Madame Elected?” one of the guards asks toward Griffin’s stooped frame.

  “She’s all right,” I say, interjecting so Griffin doesn’t have to speak. “Just overtaken by the events tonight. With this and the pregnancy, it’s a lot for her to take in. If you’ll excuse us.”

  “Of course,” says one of the guards. He steps aside so we have ample room to pass.

  I lift Vienne’s body, covered in the cape, off the floor. I act like it’s Griffin’s body, heavy and muscular. I pretend to strain my knees under the supposed weight of it. And, in fact, feeling so sick with my pregnancy, even lifting Vienne’s slender body is hard for me. I want to retch as I stand up, my head spinning, but I push on.

  “Do you need help, Elected?” asks a guard.

  “No, thank you. I can manage.” But I’m sweating, holding Vienne across my arms. Even Griffin looks over at me from under the hood, his eyebrows raised. I see his confusion at my hardship, but I can’t very well explain my pregnancy to him right here, so I disregard his look.

  We walk as quickly as we can out of the corridor into the lobby. My eyes open wide as I see at least a hundred guards milling around the lobby. As soon as they see us, they stop in their tracks, making a pathway for us toward the front door. They grow quiet and then their hands move up into the traditional symbol of respect. They hold both of their arms outward at forty five degree angles toward each other. First I think it’s to show compassion for me and Vienne, but then I realize it’s also a sign of respect for Griffin’s supposedly dead body. He was one of their peers. A guard like them.

  I nod at the large group, not quite catching their eyes.

  The three of us exit the building, Griffin st
ill bent over. We walk down the front steps with most of the guards all watching our backs. The young guard who told us about the explosion waits at the bottom of the stairs, holding our horses’ reins.

  I think we’re home free now that we’re out here in the dark, but a gust of wind gives us the biggest threat of the night. I feel the blowing air in my face. Before I can warn Griffin, a current rushes by, whisking up the bottom of his cloak. A few inches of Vienne’s shoe shows through, displaying how Griffin’s heel sticks out the back of it.

  The guard looks down, and I see his eyes widen at the sight of Griffin’s foot. He’s too stunned to say anything, so I just propel us forward as fast as I can. I catch Griffin’s eye and we both know we only have a second before the kid regains his voice and says something that’ll ruin our getaway. Griffin climbs up onto one horse. I climb onto the other, still holding Vienne’s limp body. She’s doing her best to stay still.

  We gallop at as fast a pace as I can manage without letting go of Vienne’s body spread out across my lap.

  “Go!” I command the horses when we’re out of earshot of the kid. “He saw your foot! He’ll be telling someone for sure, and it’ll only take the guards a matter of minutes to mobilize.”

  “If they believe him,” says Vienne from across my lap. The cloak has come off her face, and she’s holding onto my waist with both arms.

  “We’ll know for sure in a moment,” Griffin says. And then he leans forward, reaching out a hand to slap my horse’s rump. “Ya!” he shouts, and in an instant both of our horses pick up their pace.

  We reach the stables in a matter of seconds and lead the horses around to the empty stall. Vienne deftly slides off the horse, letting the cape drop around her. Griffin and I dismount as well, and the three of us stand in a tight circle.

  “You take care,” I say to Vienne. I don’t know what other advice to tell my best friend in these last moments. I don’t want to leave her. Walking away from the one person who completely accepts me as I am, feels like something heavy pressing against my heart. I want to pull Vienne back onto the horse and take her with us, but I remind myself she’s strong and East Country needs her to lead in my absence. Suddenly, I look at her with wide eyes. “You were the person who whistled at the Ellipse, distracting the Technologist five years ago. The one hiding in the pavilion the night I snuck out, weren’t you?”