Page 30 of Resist

Too late. Rolling my shoulders back, I stepped across the threshold into my new hell.

17: Pedigree

“You must be Miss de la Puente.” The woman extended an elegant hand with long fingers, painted nails of muted mauve, and delicate gold bracelets on her wrist. “Welcome.”

“Thank you.” I reached out, taking her hand in my own in an awkward, dainty handshake.

Her grip tightened slightly—barely noticeable—as she eyed me up and down, serious and stoic. The shift was subtle. I noticed the slight stiffening of her posture, the shift in her eyes, and the slight downward turn of her lips, just at the corners. Then she blinked, and it all evaporated. The curves of her body softened, a smile overcame her red lips, and her grip lessened.

It happened so fast, I almost missed it, but I caught it. I would always catch it. Because that’s how the game was played. The games of kings and queens, life or death. I may not have been very good at it…not like Jacob. But I could still smell bullshitwhen I saw it. Because no one played the game better than Belinda, not even this broad.

She let me go as she allowed her smile to brighten her whole face, but it didn’t meet her eyes. Her eyes revealed nothing. “Of course, my dear. We are happy to assist the Dissenters in any way we can. I am Lady Calvernon, First Lady of the North. But you may call me Marissa.”

My stomach felt like a pit. This was Chase and Wes’s mother. Just like them, she was stunning. An astounding specimen of female perfection. If my memory served me right, Sasha mentioned Marissa wanted revenge for Chase’s murder. And suddenly, I felt likescumin front of this woman.

Because of my family—because ofme—she lost her eldest son, and that thought caused guilt to wash over me. God only knew what she thought of me, and I realized then that she was someone I really didn’t want to piss off.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I mustered.

“Yes, the pleasure is all mine, of course.” The smile dropped from her lips and for only a fraction of a second, her eyes revealed something less than charming. But as quickly as it came, she turned on her heels, walking deeper into the house, taking whatever secrets she was hiding with her. “Come, I’ll show you to your room. You’ll be staying in the West Wing.”

“Thank you.” I started following her, leaving Smiley and Fisher behind. Silence came between us, and I took the opportunity to get a lay of the land as much as I could. Though the ground was made of dark wood, rugs covered most of the floors—rich reds with gold scrollwork.

Each stained-glass window was framed with matching red drapes with gold cords and tassels pulling them back, allowing the colors of the imagery to shine as the sun passed through. Each one differed from the one before it, and I had an urge to stop and admire the different scenes, but Marissa was quick,never checking to make sure I was still following behind her. So I pressed on, making a mental note to revisit each window when I had the chance.

As if stained glass windows, ruby red fabrics, and gold everywhere weren’t enough, the stone walls were adorned with tapestries. Grand masterpieces depicting what I thought might be medieval battles, castles, dragons, and knights on horseback. The colors were more muted than the windows, but the details I caught as I walked back told me I was going to have to take some time to study these too.

Plush antique chairs and tables were in alcoves with shelves lined with stuff I didn’t have the opportunity to really look at. Then there were statues made of dark irons and suits of armor, which I had only ever seen in pictures at the academy. There were gorgeous lamps of black, and various shades of gold and red that lit the darkened corners, and occasionally I would pass enormous mirrors with ornate golden frames.

Sasha was dead wrong. This place wasnothinglike the Presidential Palace. When I called this place Castle Calvernon, I was only half serious, but now I realized I couldn’t have been more right. This place was, in fact, a damncastle.

We came to a grand staircase that went up half a flight before branching off into opposite directions—I assumed the West and East wings. Gathering her skirts, Marissa started ascending the stairs. “Once we make it to your room, I ask that you please remain there until we can give you a tour of the manor. Supper is served early, so please clean yourself up and be ready for when you are called on.”

We reached the top, facing a long hallway that was similarly decorated as the first floor. The only difference was that this hall had rows of doors on either side. All bedrooms I imagined.

“Thanks,” I managed. But she said nothing in return, and we walked the rest of the way in silence until we made it abouthalfway down the hall and stopped in front of a door. Marissa reached over, took a key out of her pocket, and unlocked the door. Turning the handle, she pushed the door open, and it swung out silently on its hinges.

“This is your room.” Marissa stepped aside, eyeing me. I swallowed and walked in.

My eyes grew wide as an enormous room decorated in the similar reds, golds, and antique furniture as the halls greeted my eyes. A king-sized, four-poster bed was against one wall, and two plush chairs were by a fireplace on the other side. I had my very own stained-glass window, depicting a young woman in an elegant white gown running through what seemed to be some sort of enchanted forest.

“Oh wow,” the words escaped me in a breath. I might have grown up in luxury in Telvia, but Belinda never allowed me to have any of the rooms that even came close to matching this place. Not to mention that this was a definite upgrade from the canvas tent, barracks, and farmhouse I had gotten used to.

Marissa took a few steps into the room. “I hope these accommodations will suit a young lady of your pedigree.”

“My what now?” The statement sounded innocent enough, but it also just soundednasty. Like, she meant it as an insult or something.

Marissa rolled her shoulders back while offering me a sweet smile. “Your pedigree, my dear. Youarethe First Daughter of Telvia, are you not?”

“Yeah?”

“You meanyes.” She smiled again, tipping her head. “I’ve heard rumors of how opulent the Presidential Palace is. I just hope our humble home will compare to you.”

I didn’t really know what it was, but like Fisher, something told me Marissa didn’t like me. Maybe it was the icy edge to her tone, or the cold look in her eyes, but I suddenly felt like Iwas treading on pins and needles. I plastered the sweetest smile I could muster. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for extending such wonderful hospitality to me.”

Her smile faltered before she blinked and collected herself again. “Yes, well, it is a pleasure, my dear. Now, dinner is served at five. Please be ready on time. I recommend you dress nicely.” She wrinkled her nose slightly as she eyed my cargo pants and t-shirt. But I couldn’t blame her for that one. I had wrinkled my nose at the outfit plenty of times myself.

“Of course,” I responded, trying my best not to squeak like a mouse.

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