“That’s not what I’m asking.” My sister-in-law crosses the room, and places both her hands on my desk and stares down at me. “Can you do what you need to do?”
I gnaw on the inside of my lip. “I’m not afraid of him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Annalise shakes her head. “I wish you were. It would make protecting you easier.” She turns her back to me and takes a few steps before spinning around. “He killed your mother
and
he’s with Ryker. Perhaps you can control Beck, but I have no doubt Ryker will squeeze the life from you with his bare hands if given the chance. It’s what he’s trained to do.”
Her words form cracks in the calm façade I’ve been working so hard to keep together. My fingers twitch. “So what are you saying? That I should hide from them?”
“I’m saying, this isn’t a game, Lark. If you lose, you’re dead.”
We glare at each other for a long minute. Finally, Annalise looks away. “Get your coat. It’s time for the funeral.”
#
There is nothing beautiful about death. There is no peace, nor sense of calmness.
It creeps up and slams us into submission. When it comes calling, it takes a piece of everyone it touches.
I walk slowly down the long aisle toward the image of Mother. Hundreds of creamy white roses and small candles crowd the front of the hall. The green banner of the Western Society hangs along each side of the room.
My hands shake as I light a candle and set it with the offering, before kneeling at the front of the hall. The cleric fans incense around me and I do my best not to cough, but the sickly sweet smell lodges in my throat and I gag.
Callum grimaces. “You’re pathetic,” he whispers.
I dig my fingernails into my palms. He’s baiting me. I know he is. And I can’t give him the satisfaction.
An oversized image of Mother sits before me. There is no body. Our dead are burned, so their spirits can be released to the Great Beyond. Only in this case, there is no body because Beck managed to snatch it away from her stunned guards.
Tears pool in my eyes. Mother won’t have closure, and that’s the cruelest thing Beck’s done.
A small camera hovers to my left, broadcasting my sniffles across the society. Callum slips his hand into mine, a show for the cameras. I send a spark of electricity rippling off my finger tips and smile inwardly as my brother tightens his grip and tries not to yelp in pain.
The cleric recites a few words, which is my cue to stand and take my seat in the front row next to Annalise. With a little forced help, Kyra’s managed to drag herself from bed. A guard sits on each side of her. For her protection, of course. We can’t be too careful. Not when she has a traitorous mate running around.
Annalise nudges me as another camera buzzes past my head. “You’ll have to speak to them, again. Just something quick. To thank everyone for their support during this terrible time.”
“I know.”
The cleric strikes a tiny bell five times. On the last chime, he extinguishes the pillar candle before Mother’s photo. I close my eyes and allow silent tears to stream down my cheeks.
The backs of my legs ache when I stand. I give a low bow first to the cleric then toward Mother’s photo.
Annalise and I, followed by Kyra and her guards, shuffle out of the room. No sooner are we through the door than a pesky camera flits before my face.
“Lark! When did you learn Ryker was aiding Beck?”
I sigh. I know what they’re calling me. The Sensitive Lover. First Beck was outed, and now Ryker’s disappeared with him, and is likely a Sensitive, too. In the eyes of the public, I don’t have the best track record. Which Minister Sun-Wei has hammered home. My closest friends are enemies of the State.
Luckily, Oliver has coached me on what to say. “It appears the Sensitives have plotted against my family and me for many years. They wormed their way into our lives, garnered our trust and favor, and plotted to destroy us. But we will not let them win.”
I catch Oliver’s eye and he nods. One question down.
“Can you tell us why you and Malin were in the Midlands?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Mother didn’t discuss State business with me.”
It’s a lie, but since I don’t hold an official office, it’s one I must propagate.
“Did it have to do with the food riots?”
Until Mother’s death, there was no discussion of food riots on the newsfeeds. Most people in the cities had no idea, but now, it’s the second biggest story after Mother’s death. And people are panicking.
Anger simmers beneath my skin. We never would have been in the Midlands if it weren’t for those riots. Mother would still be here.
I grind my teeth.
“I don’t know why my mother was there,” I snap. “But I had a meeting at the Agriculture Center to discuss a possible job placement.”
It seems like a reasonable answer. After all, my assessment scores were released publicly and everyone knows I did outstanding in Agriculture.
Annalise grasps my elbow and signals to Dawson and Oliver to clear a path for our exit. The men hold back the crowd as we walk toward the door with a blubbering Kyra, and her escort, at our heels. The newscasters continue to pepper me with questions, but I shrug them away.
“What do you say to the accusations your mother was a Sensitive herself?”
My mouth goes dry. It’s the question we’ve all been waiting for. The rumors of Mother’s abilities have been growing since her death, fueled, no doubt, by the Splinter Group. I tilt my head and keep my face blank. “My mother was killed by Sensitives. She fought her entire life to keep the good people of our society safe. She died honorably, doing what she loved: protecting the people of the Western Society.”
“Are you hoping to follow in Malin’s footsteps?” a female voice shouts.
I spin around and stare into a nearby camera. I don’t bother to hide the smile on my lips or the ice in
my
voice. “Absolutely.”
31
“Get out of bed,” I order, glaring at the ball curled beneath a heavy blanket. When Kyra doesn’t move, I wave my hand and turn the bed onto its side. She slides to the floor and gapes at me in disbelief.
It’s only the two of us in her room. All three of my guards wait in the library, watching the secure State feeds of the council meeting. Within the next hour, they’re voting on my admittance to the inner circle and I’ve instructed my guards to alert me as soon as the vote comes up.
Still on the floor, Kyra grabs the blanket and pulls it back over her head. “Leave me alone.”
“No.” With magic, I fling the blanket across the room. “I’ve been kind and have let you sit in this room for days, but it’s time you get up and start behaving like a proper States woman. You need to do your duty.”
Kyra’s fingers curl around the edge of the bed. Her wild curls spring out from all sides of her head and her bloodshot eyes water.
How is it possible she still has tears left?
“This is all your fault!” Her fingers twitch and a bolt of magic vibrates toward me. With a swish of my hand, I send it careening into the door which splinters into thousands of pieces.
“Miss Lark, is everything all right?” Dawson’s voice booms out of my wristlet.
“We’re both fine.”
“I’m not,” Kyra shouts.
I blow on my hand. “Nice, Kyra. I’m trying to help you, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Help me? Is that what you were doing when you were sneaking around behind my back? When you pulled Maz into this insanity? For all I know you
forced
him to harbor Beck in my house.” Her voice cracks. “Why am I the only one suffering for what
you
did?”
I grit my teeth and force my quivering hands into my pockets. “Blame Maz. Blame Beck. But you will not blame me.”
She wipes the back of her hand across her nose and sniffs. “You sound just like Malin.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
I snort. “Oh?”
“She was a monster. People feared her.
You
feared her once.”
I stretch my neck from side-to-side as blood pounds in my ears. “Your story has certainly changed. What happened to the Kyra who gladly took a house from my Mother? Or the Kyra who didn’t have to sit for her assessments to get the fancy green wristlet you now wear.”
“I had no choice. Didn’t you realize that? If I didn’t do what she wanted, I wouldn’t have been allowed to be with Maz.”
“So everything you’ve ever done was to be with Maz?” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“I love him.” Fear lurks behind her brown eyes. “Please, Lark. Please don’t hurt him.”
Fire and ice lick at my heart. “I would never hurt him, Kyra. Not when he’s so important to you.” A small smile forms on her lips. “But the problem is, I think you would choose him over me.”
The color drains from her face. “Lark. I wouldn’t. I swear.”
“I’m the one who you can count on, not the boy who abandoned you the first chance he got.” I kneel down next to Kyra. “If anyone can understand, it’s me. I’ve been betrayed twice but I’m still going. I get up every day and do what needs to be done.” From the air, I pull a tissue and hand it to her. “And you can too. You just have to try.”
“How am I supposed to do that? Just forget everything?”
I roll my eyes. “You can start by accepting Beck wants me dead, and since you’re my guard, he’d kill you too.”
“You really believe that?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrows. “Believe what?”
“That Beck wants to kill you?”
My heart seizes and a soft grayness, almost like a fog, wafts through my brain. I blink, trying to focus on what she’s saying. “Beck tried to kill me once before. On the lawn at Summer Hill. He’ll do it again.”
“No, Lark. He didn’t. I swear he didn’t.” She shakes her head vigorously. “He wanted to run away with you. Don’t you remember?”
My face crumples in confusion. I distinctly remember Mother and Annalise telling me he tried to kill me, and I remember Annalise pulling me to safety. But something about what Kyra says triggers a weird fluttering sensation in my heart.
I shake the feeling away. “You’re trying to protect Maz, but it’s not going to work.”
Defeat blots out the last remnant of hope on Kyra’s face. She pulls herself to full height, so that she looks down at me. “What do you want me to do?”
As I pace, I twist the strand of sapphires around my fingers. “Help me find them and, as a reward for a job well done, I’ll grant Maz leniency.”
She lowers her chin to her chest and tears splatter at her feet. “You’ll let him live?”
“Yes.” I don’t bother to tell her that he’ll probably wish for death after I’m done with him.
She places two fingers against her heart. “Swear.”
I copy her gesture. “On my honor, I’ll let Maz live.”
Her body sags against the overturned bed. “I’ll clean up this mess,” I say. “You get ready.”
When she’s in the bathroom, I press my wristlet. “Is there any word?”
“Not yet,” Annalise responds. “It’s the next agenda item.”
I nod to myself. “Good. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”
All the hard work of the past few days is coming to a head. Annalise and Dawson have been cramming me full of information, and I met with Sun-Wei this morning. He seemed impressed with my knowledge of the State’s problems, and my suggestions on how to handle them. I pray Annalise and Oliver are right, and all the earlier reservations the council had about me have been laid to rest.
“Are you almost ready?” I ask Kyra through the bathroom door.
A small crack forms, and she sticks her head out. Crazy curls frame her face.
“Almost. I just have to put my clothes on.”
I tap my head. “Hair.”
She huffs. “Right. And my hair.”
A few minutes later, she emerges from the bathroom only looking slightly more presentable than before she went in, but I don’t have time to make her re-do everything.
“Why are you in such a rush?” she asks, as we hurry to the stairs. Her attitude has vastly improved since she went into the bathroom.
“They’re voting on my position in State.” Butterflies dance in my stomach.
When we pause outside the library door so I can collect myself, Kyra touches my arm. Unlike in the past, when I was unsure if she was influencing me by touch, this time, I feel a slight tremor of magic. Interesting. “Best wishes,” she says.
“Thank you.” I throw my shoulders back and hold my head high, the way Mother did when entering a room.
Annalise wears an eyepiece and a nasty frown.
“What’s going on?” I ask calmly, even though my heart has taken up residence in my ears.
Annalise removes the eyepiece and tosses it aside. “The State voted you down.”
She says it so casually. With no fanfare or warm-up. She gave me no time to prepare. Rage builds in my chest and my mouth goes slack. “How can they not accept me? I thought it was a sure thing.” I’m yelling, but Annalise keeps her face serene.