Page 73 of Xantera
“I’m sorry,” I say as she gives me an even fiercer glower. “I was just tired, but I feel better now. Thank you for—”
Eleni doesn’t let me finish. She pulls me toward the armoire, where she rummages inside and pulls out one of those velvet dresses. Before I can even blink at her, she’s attacking me with the fabric, slipping my arms and head through, lacing, cinching, and patting me until I feel like one of those women during the Dark Days,in lavish finery that was probably made by the same people who get strips of brown linen and tiny little rations in their cube of a housing unit back at home.
And just like that, all my good cheer is gone again, especially as Eleni gestures aggressively for me to follow her and I realize she probably has a hundred words she’d like to spew out at me but can’t.
“Okay,” I breathe out. “One second.” Lifting up the corner of the mattress again, I clamp my hand around the vial of the necklace, feeling that familiar spurt of electricity connect with my bloodstream and Lucan’s rough, masculine presence invade my brain.
Hey, I say quickly.I’m fine. Eleni wants me to follow her so I’m hiding you under my bed for now. I’ll talk to you again as soon as I make it back to my room.
After a moment of surprised silence, in which I can feel Lucan’s emotions war between lecturing me for scaring him and thanking me for keeping him updated, he exhales with,Does this mean I’m literally the Monster under your bed now?
I refrain from saying I wish he was the Monsterinmy bed—especially after last night’s bath—and remove my hand from the vial, stuffing it even deeper inside.
“Okay.” I straighten and nod at Eleni. “I’m ready.”
As she leads me out of my new room, I take a last glance at my bed painted in streaks of sunlight and realize what that peculiar sound I woke to was: silence. I’m so used to jerking awake to the robotic trill of that female voice through the loudspeakers that waking up to silence felt like a sound in and of itself.
“We could be sharing all these clothes and riches and everyone could be happy,” I mutter. “But instead, too much is hoarded by too few.”
Eleni throws me a look over her shoulder that looks a lot liketell me about it.
She takes me down a labyrinth of halls and staircases that I do my best to memorize, until we’re back in the same dining room as last night and my nerves are kicking into high gear again.
Especially when she abandons me at a chair with a stiff curtsy and hurries off through one of the servant doorways again, leaving me alone with a few other Chosen Ones and the First Guardian standing at the head of the table.
Are they really going to feed from us again so soon after the first time? Judging by the sways and bleary blinks of the last remaining Chosen Ones who stumble to the table after their own servants, I’m the only one who’s recovered from the venom so far. I’m not sure the others would be able to handle another feeding so soon.
At least Arad isn’t here to breathe icicles down my neck. Only the First Guardian stares at us over the mountain of new breakfast food that I’m much too full to even look at, waiting until everyone is seated before he claps his marble hands together.
“Attention, Chosen Ones.” His voice scrapes through the room. “On behalf of the rest of the Guardians, I would like to thank you for providing the necessary sustenance for the safety of our people—your friends and families that you have so graciously protected with your blood. I hope that you all feel refreshed and fulfilled after a night of such wholesome sacrifice.”
Such pretty words to describe an ugly lie. I narrow my eyes and soak up the hidden meanings wavering behind every careful syllable.
“Now that you are Chosen, you are free from the burdens of regular toil. You may enjoy the commodities your Guardians have left you in your private room or wander the palace as you please… except the north wing wherewepreside. In that case, you will have to be invited by a Guardian to enter.”
My heart sinks straight to the lush carpet beneath my feet. The north wing—that’s where the white drawing room is, where the key to the Wall is. If I want to get to it, I need to convince Arad toinvite me into his living space.
I almost laugh. Ofcourseit couldn’t be as easy as tiptoeing around until I find it. I bet that north wing is guarded by sentries who would deny me access if I tried to get in.
“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be provided here in the dining room for all Chosen Ones,” the First Guardian continues, “unless you prefer to take your meals in your room, in which case your assigned servant will deliver it to you. Access to the balconies will be opened every Sunday for you to wave to your loved ones.”
One of the men down the table dares to fix the First Guardian with beady, angry eyes. “Where are all the other Chosen Ones? If we’re all allowed to wander the palace and eat meals down here, how come I haven’t seen any of them?”
It’s already a question that’s been tugging at my brain, my eyes constantly flitting sideways as if desperate that every shadow is actually a sign of my mother or maybe even Diggory, but the others around me seem to perk up, nodding and grumbling amongst themselves.
“As I’ve said,” the First Guardian answers in a tone that sounds like he’s patiently sweeping a bit of dust off his cloak, “if you wish to reside in your private room all week until the balconies open up, you may. The same applies to the Chosen Ones before you.”
The meaning couldn’t be any clearer, though it fills me with prickles of dread. In the span of their first few months in the Blood Moon Palace, every single Chosen One before us has decided to stay in their rooms until they’re forced to go to the balconies and wave.
Or until they’re no longer able to.
The First Guardian doesn’t let anyone else ask any questions. He simply gives what appears to be a patient, fatherly smile and says, “One more thing. From now until the next Choosing,youare the source of your Guardian’s strength. You have chosen to honor Xantera, and as such, you are not to deny your blood whenever or wherever they seek you out.”
He eyes his own living sacrifice with a sliver of hunger shining through those crimson eyes before turning on a heel and sweeping out of the dining room, leaving the eleven of us with nothing but a wasteful feast and horrified silence.
Because while we were Chosen, yes, this is anything but our choice.
Good news, I tell Lucan when I get back to my room and slide the necklace up my thigh again,my door’s no longer locked. Bad news, the north wing is. Worse news, I’m going to have to get invited in.
