I Am Elite (A Colors novel Book 1)

by Kimberly Westra

  “Oh,” I say, blinking wildly trying to take in what has just appeared in front of me.

  My grandma told me about these places where the books of old were stored. She called them libraries. This must be one of those places, although this is so much more grand and beautiful than what she ever described.

  The room is oval and the ceiling reaches three stories high. There are bookcases on every single wall of the room, except for the three story long window at the end. The window has stained glass, with soft shaded flowers and mountains. Along the window drapes a thick red curtain with golden embroidery. It is pulled back with a golden sash. There is a staircase that wraps around the room, with ladders so one can reach all the bookcases. In the center of the room stand the most comfy sofas I have ever laid my eyes on. They make me want to fall into them and take a nap.

  As I continue to circle to take in all the splendor the Prince stands at the edge of the room. He leans against a bookcase, arms folded and his focus is solely on me. There is something about his vibe, his look, like he can see straight through me. It is chilling, yet beautiful.

  Warmth rises in my body, forcing me to look away. His red eyes continue to linger on me, following my every step.

  “Here,” he says, pulling away from the wall, “This is where your story should be.”

  I turn to where he points and make my way across the room. I scan the books and find it, ‘Cinderella’. My fingers brush over the back, not wanting to really touch it, it looks too fragile and breakable.

  Of course I have seen books before. We had quite a few at my school to learn from. But we did not really have books to read for fun. Mom and dad could not afford them. So this room not only holds a lot more books than I have ever seen, but knowing that many of these book were pre-world war just baffles me. The stories they tell, the secrets they hold. Especially standing here, in front of story’s my grandma used to tell me. These books must be so valuable. Touching them would be a waste.

  “It is ok,” he says, stepping behind me. His arms move around me, he only touches me for a small second. But it electrifies me. He moves in a little closer, my breathing stops. I can’t help but lean in. Just as my back touches his chest he grabs the book and steps away. My face flushes. He only came this close to grab the book. Embarrassment washes over me like a cold shower.

  “Come,” he says, unaware of my mistake.

  He leads me towards the sofa. I feel his closeness while he opens the book. Even though the room has a specific old paper smell, his cologne stands out. He truly smells divine. He smells so different then Aran. Aran smells more like the factory, but the Prince smells more woodsy, with a hint of sweetness.

  As he opens the book the world around me disappears. There is no longer a king wanting to kill me. There are no Elite. No division. Only words and pictures of a beloved story. My eyes water a little. If only my grandma had been here to see this, she would know that all her stories were still preserved. She once heard these stories, and passed them on. One day it will be my turn to share them with yet another generation.

  He moves his eyes to mine noticing my shift in mood and I try to look away.

  “What is wrong? I thought you would like the books?” he looks at me with wide eyes.

  He must not be used to seeing emotions. He lives in a world where you do not cry.

  “I didn't mean to hurt you,” he says with a hint of panic.

  “Oh no,” I start, placing my hand on his arm, “you did such a wonderful thing bringing me here. I love the books.”

  “Then what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

  His pleading eyes search mine. It is very endearing and also a little silly to think a prince is asking me if he has done anything wrong. I never really talk about my grandma’s passing, but something in this moment makes me want to tell him. He deserves to know he has truly given me a wonderful gift by taking me here.

  “My grandma used to tell me stories from before the war, I am not sure how she learned all of them, but this story was one of my favorites,” I look down at the book, “she passed away a year ago. I miss her terribly.”

  Before realizing what is happening his arms move around me, pulling me in. His chest is warm and hard. His steady heartbeat calms me down. For a while we just sit there, his arms around me, my head on his chest. The position is a little awkward, but I don’t dare to move. His hug calms my troubled soul. With the continued scare of being caught as a fraud, this hug is exactly what I needed. The way he holds me gives me the feeling he has been in need of a hug too. It feels as though he has also suffered a great loss. Leaning in a little more, I hope to comfort him too. We could all use a good hug once in a while.

  As I lay my head down on my pillow my mind works overtime. Our moment in the library came to an end too soon. My body wishes he was still close. But that is ridiculous. It was just a spur of the moment thing and he has forgotten all about me. He was just comforting me, probably just because he felt obliged to do so. I should not think anything of it.

  I mean come on Mera. He is a Prince.

  Still there is no ignoring the little pull in my heart. Something I have never felt before.

  I need a distraction. And it is the weekend. So I call for Shanna to come visit me in my room.

  We spend the whole weekend in our pajamas. We ask for some board games. And since it is the weekend we do not have to go downstairs for meals.

  “Amber, since you sort of, work for me, can I tell you what to do?”

  “Ehm, Yes?” She replies a little hesitant.

  “Then I order you to join us in our festivities.”

  “Give me two minutes!” she says while running out of the room.

  When she returns she is wearing her own pajamas.

  Needless to say, it is a blast. Amber and Shanna turn out to be quite the match. And even though Amber is a little older than us, she manages to beat us with a pillow fight.

  I don’t really know why I decide not to tell the girls about my library moment with the Prince. It is a subject that would fit in perfectly with the bonding time we are having. It is not a secret or anything, so why not tell them? Maybe I don’t want to jinx it? Jinx what? There is nothing to jinx. Or maybe I feel guilty towards Aran? None of this is a big deal. It is nothing. I mean, he is the Prince, and I am nothing. No, I am less than nothing.

  I am human.

  This will just have to remain my own sweet little memory.

  Chapter 7

  The next few weeks I focus on keeping my head down and working hard. If I do my job right, and keep out of trouble, maybe I can even slip through the cracks. Maybe the King will forget about me. Maybe I can just get my paycheck, and get out of here alive. Maybe I can spend more time with the Prince.

  Mera, stop it. That is a toxic thought.

  My work is a welcome distraction. The time spent in the library was magical. So so magical. But also a once in a lifetime, will never happen again, thing. Wondering if we could ever be something is stupid. It will only lead to heartache and disappointment. He is a prince for crying out loud. An Elite prince even, and I am only human. And, Aran. There’s Aran. He cares for me, and I really care for him. But something in the back of my heart tells me my feelings for him might have been more of a puppy love, than anything else. Somewhere deep inside I wonder if our little budding relationship would have survived. When you truly fall for someone you don’t just start daydreaming about someone else. Even if that someone else is a prince. Aran deserves so much better.

  I push him out of my mind and focus on my work with Lady Petigran. I follow her around like a puppy follows it’s master. Everything she says and does goes into my tablet. Slowly but surely she and the other staff begin to trust me with little jobs of my own. The Queen also does not mind having me around. She gives me a little nod every time she enters the office and that is more than enough for me. What would she think of me if she knew I am a human? Would she still consider me a good worker? Or would she no longer find me
worthy of her time?

  I am truly giving this job my best shot. Not only for the obvious reasons. I really do not want to die, or see my family get hurt. But also because I know I am good at this job. I really want to prove the world that a human can be just as good as any Elite. Everyone always told me that I was not going to accomplish anything. They always said to give up on my dreams, that I would never be good enough. Still, here I am. If I can pull this off, I might start believing in myself. In order to do my job properly, distractions have to be avoided. That means minimal thinking of home. I still think of them, and I miss them terribly, but the memories will have to be pushed to the back of my mind. There has to be a wall to hide away my emotions. Only at night, when I place my locket on the nightstand, do I allow my mind to wander. Closing my eyes I think of what has been lost, and what might happen in the future.

  Another distraction that cannot allow me to lose focus, is the Prince. It is bad enough that I think of our library moment often, I shouldn’t let it go on any further. So I avoid him as much as I possibly can. He also seems rather busy, when we do accidently make eye contact he seems just as determent to turn the other way. It sucks, something is pulling me towards him, but he should not be dragged into my secrets.

  Of course, the passing of time also means another elimination is inevitable. It comes as no surprise when they send me to the gardens. During the last elimination they sent two drug users home, and imprisoned three criminals. Last time they had no cameras watching us. This time the press is very much present. Camera’s buzz, reporters running, Elite smiling. There is electricity in the air. You can feel it. Everyone is excited about what this gathering will reveal. The broadcast will be aired all over the country, every square will show us sitting here.

  I push my chest out a little, pull my shoulders back and keep my head high as I walk towards the chairs waiting for us in the grass. The cameras make me nervous. But to my own surprise the outcome of this elimination frightens me too. I have been behaving to the best of my ability. Not only to keep my family safe and to stay alive. If I am being completely honest with myself. Fantasizing about the Prince has made me want to be around him. Which is just silly of me to even think about.

  The King takes his time speaking into the cameras before turning towards the fifteen selected. He then talks about how amazing we all are, blah blah blah. I cannot stand the man and the fakeness that drips off of him. The rest seem to sit up a little straighter though, sucking in all of his praise. If only I could openly scowl. But my mask stays in place and copying the others, I sit a little straighter.

  I am Elite.

  The Kings demeanor then changes. He takes his time to maneuver around the eliminated names. I feel sorry for everyone here, myself included. He is deliberately taking his time, intensifying everyone's fears. Elite shift in their chairs. The camera's eat it up.

  And then, with his eyes on us all, he blasts out two names.

  Not my name.

  I blink.

  He did not say my name. Relief washes over me. This means I get at least one more month at the palace. At least one more month with Will.

  I curse myself while walking into the palace. My mind should not be allowed to wonder this way. This is not a healthy way of thinking.

  A voice startles me.

  “Congratulations.”

  He moves past me on the large staircase, stepping sideways, towards me. After avoiding him for so long, his presence is intoxicating, enabling me to think.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  “I am glad to have you stay in the palace a little longer,” he says.

  There is nothing to stop the embarrassing words that escape my mouth, “why?”

  Oh no. I just said that out loud. This cannot be happening. He is really turning me into a puddle of craziness. How can I be so stupid?

  He grins sleekly.

  Did his cheeks just became a little more colored? Is he enjoying my embarrassment?

  “Good evening miss.” He nods, his beautiful eyes pierce mine, telling me he sees me. Telling me he wants me to stick around a little longer. His hand reaches up, brushing an escaped lock of hair towards my ear.

  Then he continues down the steps. Leaving me glued to my spot.

  After two months of working in the Queens office, my feet are somewhat getting used to the abuse of wearing heels. Still that does not mean I like them any more than before.

  I make my way to the office and look down at my, this time, blue heels and curse, yet another week of torture. I am still very much occupied with my poor feet when I step into the office.

  There is chaos. The Queen stands in the middle of it all. The other office members hover around her. A newspaper is handed from one to another.

  My finger hits the scanner and the glass panel slides open. With ten steps I reach the group of anxious people. What is going on? All my senses are on high alert. There is something wrong and I can feel it all the way down to my toes.

  “Oh no,” says one of the men while rubbing his head.

  “What do we do now,” one of the women exclaims.

  “Hope she will be ok” another says.

  I finally make my way to the middle and read the paper over the Queen´s shoulder. On the front page is a picture of Lady Petigran grinning at us. She looks happy. Then I read the words printed by her face. ‘Lady Petigran of the palace robbed and attacked by rebels,’ I continue scanning the papers ‘she is currently in a coma,’ I keep scanning the words ‘nobody knows if she will make it’.

  Nobody knows if she will make it.

  As I close my eyes, the words don’t leave my vision. They run in circles. They pull out nausea and worry. Nobody knows if she will make it. The rebels did this to her. Humans. Oh my goodness what do we do now? Nobody is safe.

  The room is in complete panic and I am not sure what to do. My eyes find the mirror across from me. I scan my reflection. Even though I am scared out of my mind, my Elite face holds steady. My hair has been pinned up perfectly by Amber. My make-up exactly in place. My bright blue eyes pop out. I look Elite.

  I am Elite.

  When I was still in the office at the factory I initially worked the reception area. When the secretary to the CEO had become pregnant I took on her position. It was against protocol. Humans did not usually get a position like that. But the need was high. They put me on a trial run. Nobody had expected a human to be able to do it, but somehow I did. It was great proving them wrong. Then when the original secretary was due back she quit her job, wanting to take care of her baby. They asked me to stay on a permanent basis.

  After watching Lady Petigran closely for these past few months, I know that I can be of some assistance. I just need to keep my mask secure and get everyone focused again. If I can get this team together, we can do this.

  “Ok, listen up everyone,” I say.

  Nobody responds. They are so fully panic stricken that they are oblivious to my voice. I kick off my darn heels, climb on a chair and try again.

  “OK, LISTEN UP EVERYONE,” my voice loud and clear. This time they all look at me.

  “Bill, Derek, you both add finance to your pile. Lady Petigran has a complete overview of all the numbers she was working with.” I look at them with a stern look and they both nod. They then move to their desks.

  “Melissa, Amanda and Stephanie, you three need to take on these projects Lady Petigran was working on,” I hand them the folders from the desk, “if I am correct she has consulted with each of you on these, so continue from there. If you have any questions I will be happy to review them with you.” All three women nod, take their projects and get to work.

  “The reception desk is also going to be a little busier if we want to pull this off. Karen, do you feel comfortable with taking on the press? I have noticed you on the phone and your calmness could be of great use right now.” She looks at me with a big grin. She is not used to getting compliments.

  I now turn to the Queen. Her eyes are wider than ever b
efore and her mouth is half open. Crap, I must have crossed every single line right now and immediately feel embarrassed. She is surely going to get rid of me straight away.

  “I am sorry for taking over this way, your Majesty. I just snapped into an old habit.” I bite my lip and force myself to look at her.

  “You are sorry?” she speaks softly, with a strange edge I can’t fathom.

  “Yes, I crossed a line. Per your request I shall leave immediately,” I say.

  “Are you crazy?” she says while her eyes pierce mine, “you cannot leave, you just did something amazing. You are needed here!”

  I stare at her, not sure what is happening when she grabs my arm.

  “I am serious, this is probably not really something I can ask from a selected. You are probably here because you want to learn as an apprentice. But I really doubt any of us can really teach you anything. Your House must be so proud that you are a fellow Blue.” She says, in complete awe of me.

  The turn of events baffles me. She thinks I am amazing? My House should be proud of me? If only she knew I was only human. But still her complement hits home. The Queen wants me by her side. This is amazing.

  We continue our conversation in her office.

  “We should talk terms,” she says as we sit down, “I am not expecting you to just take over all the work Lady Petigran was doing. I know I cannot ask this of you.”

  Thank goodness, I can do a lot, but I really have only been here for two months. I have no idea of what really goes on. So we take some time to re-assign some of the duties Lady Petigran had to other members of the office. We agree that this contract is valid only while Lady Petigran is not able to do her duties. I will step back once Lady Petigran returns, or when the Queen decides she should hire a new assistant. I am more than happy with the terms, and over the moon with the salary. Of course she can’t promise me the job if Lady Petrigran does not return. Being a part of the selected, she cannot offer me any official job. So we agree this will remain a verbal commitment.