Page 41 of Xantera
His brother disappeared a few years ago, and he was Chosen about ten years before that.She was Chosen five years ago, Belinda had said about her and Diggory’s daughter, too. And my own secret screams a number at me, too.
“Would you like to play again?” the man asks.
“Oh, no thank you. But I appreciate you taking the time to teach me.” I stand up, scooting my chair back with a lump swelling inmy throat. “I think I’m going to try a different game to see if I have better luck somewhere else.”
The man watches me go with thoughtful disappointment, as if he regrets winning so quickly. Thankfully, though, the alcove is large enough for me to disappear among other tables and games, and soon I find myself playing cribbage with another man with a green badge.
I go through the same motions, expressing my interest in learning, trying to follow the rules, asking seemingly casual questions that he doesn’t pick up on as suspicious because he’s so focused on winning during the one day of the week he has the freedom to do so.
Again and again and again, I work my way around the room, finding that most people know a Chosen One through some means or another. Children, partners, parents, siblings, coworkers… so many humans have been brought into that Blood Moon Palace.
So many have stopped coming to the balconies anywhere between five and ten years later.
Lucan’s voice rings through my memories.There is no violencethat you see. There is no slaughteringthat you know of.
Could the Twelve Guardians really be playing such a long-winded game? Could they be murdering their own citizens so many years after reeling them into their palace, just to keep the thousands of other citizens appeased?
If the Chosen Ones disappeared instantaneously, after all, if there weren’t any balconies for them to wave from, then all of Xantera would rise up against the Guardians, demanding their loved ones back. But this way… this way, the loss is gradual, barely noticeable. After so many years of only being able to wave from afar, the disappearance doesn’t mean quite as much. It’s easier for everyone to turn a blind eye. And the Guardians…
Well, if they live forever, then what is five years to them? Nothing. Nothing at all.
With nausea churning in my gut, I finally leave the alcove to go track down Malcolm, ignoring the eyes of the nearest sentry who follows my movement. He’s still playing croquet with Walter, the two of them leaning on their mallets, more interested in each other than the balls littered around their feet.
“...the questions! Always so many questions with those kids—oh, hi, Saskia.” Malcolm catches sight of me picking my way over the indoor lawn toward him. “Are you alright?” Concern creases his forehead, and Walter mimics the expression as if he’s perfectly in-tune with Malcolm’s emotions.
“I think I’m going to head back to our unit, if you don’t mind?”
He straightens before taking a quick glance at Walter. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No,” I insist, looking between them encouragingly. All I want for Malcolm is happiness. “You stay here, and enjoy your Sunday. I just think I need to lie down. I’m not feeling well.”
It’s not a lie. The realization dawning on me is so horrible, so vast, that I don’t think I’ll be too interested in dinner tonight. My stomach is a mess of knots that threaten to surge up my throat.
Whatisa lie, though, is the implication that I need to go to bed. I’m not going to bed. No, I’m going to get out that necklace and the one other object that keeps flashing in my mind’s eye.
Because now that I’ve started down this path, I can’t turn around and go back.
If nobody else can unlock the secrets that the Guardians keep from us, then I will.
And that starts with a key.
Looking a little less tired today,” Vivian remarks before she can even see my face.
Her footsteps approach from behind me before she pats me on the top of the head like a dog and sits down at the table next to Merrick on my left.
He slings his arm around her shoulder and buries a kiss into her short, dark hair. I bounce my glare between the both of them.
I’ve been in my human form for almost a week.
Even though it’s been much needed, I won’t give any of them the satisfaction of being right. Otherwise, I’ll have to hear about it for another week.
“He’s not in the mood, babe,” Merrick whispers, butof course, I hear.
I press my fork into the piece of steak I just cut without bothering to wait for the others. “I’m fine,” I say, despite the energy snapping through every nerve ending.
It’s not agitation, exactly. It’s more like I’m… nervous. Nervous that she’ll reject what I told her. Nervous that she’ll rejectme.
But I still have to respect her decision. If she needs time to think, then that’s what I’ll give her—because as much as I want to use this woman in every way possible, I refuse to treat her like a mindless puppet. If I did, I’d be no better than my enemies.
