Page 39 of Conform
The door snapped shut. What did he mean justshe? An answer came as a door creaked open and Rose entered the room. Her quicksilver gown was wrinkled, her hair slightly askew.
“This way, come,” Rose instructed, leading me into the bathing chamber—her haughty, bossy demeanor missing. Tension bracketed her full mouth. “We must move swiftly.”
“Where’s Violet?” I asked, rooted to the spot.
“That’s none of your concern,” Rose bit out harshly, jaw trembling. “Now come. I will not pretend I am as efficient on my own.”
Rose disappeared into the steaming room, leaving me with no choice but to follow her.
“Undress. There’s the exfoliant.” She gestured to the jar of the black gritty substance. Rose pushed the button igniting the shower-heads to life, thickening the steam in the room. She leaned her head back against the tile wall as her shoulders shook.
I stripped and worked the gritty paste against my skin. I moved quickly, not nearly as thoroughly as Rose and Violet usually did. Violet was missing, and Harold had been distant, almost afraid. I rinsed hastily before making my way to the tub. Rose crouched down, groaning as she washed my hair, her breathing slightly labored.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, attempting to turn toward her. Her hands held my head in place. “Rose, what’s happened?”
“Do not act as if you care,” Rose seethed venomously as she shoved my head under the water. The unease grew with my anxiety, leaving me dizzy.
“Finished, let’s go,” Rose ordered. “There is no need to wax. You were here yesterday.” Rose entered the cream room with the chair and vanity, and I hurried after her. “I do not have adequate time to change your nails,” she said, thrusting a robe into my hands. I slipped it on, making my way to the chair.
“Rose—” I started, but the loud humming from the blower as she dried my hair drowned me out. In the mirror I watched silent tears run down Rose’s face. When the humming stopped, she pulled my hair back in a low bun. “This is the best I can do.” She shifted through the vials on the vanity, one of her hands gripping the edge, knuckles white. “Is your lens dry?” she asked, voice quivering.
“A little,” I told her. “But—”
“Tilt your head back,” Rose ordered, silencing me again. I did as much as possible without hitting the bun. The soothing effect was instant. “Did that help, or do you need a new lens?”
“It helped.”
“Good. Now sit still while I paint your face.”
“Where is Violet, Rose?” I asked again.
“She is unwell,” Rose responded, her tone flat.
“We don’t get unwell,” I answered. Our MIND had eradicated all illness and disease generations ago.
“She is unwell, Fledgling.”
“I don’t—”
“I guess I shouldn’t call you that anymore,” she stated. “You learned to fly quite quickly. Didn’t you?” She shot me a seething look before storming from the room.
It is on you if this gets back to us.Wasn’t that what Rose had told Violet yesterday? Fear found me, brutal and all-encompassing. I had naïvely asked Collin, a member of the Illum, about the uprising. I had thought the playful glint in his eyes and kindness were real.
I found her in the final room, hunched over a large black box like the one my lens came in. A cackle ripped from Rose as she turned toward me. My questions died on my tongue.
“There are always those willing to clip your wings.” She lifted from the box a long silk gown. Deep blue silk. Major Defect blue.
“What is that?” I asked. Panic sent my pulse hammering against my skin.
“Your dress for tonight. Your number is on the box. Another gift from the Illum, perhaps? Did you fail one of their trials?” She held the gown as if it might poison her. “Horrible things happen to those who can’t conform. Did you fly too high?” She didn’t bother to hide her ruthless smirk.
Your Mate has submitted his observations regarding your ability to maintain composure among the Elite and your desirability for procreation.Had I failed to maintain my composure? Had I asked too many questions? Collin had assured me he had no time for a trial. If that was true, why did the Illum send me this?
I stepped into the dress. If the gown was any other color, it would be stunning. It was sleeveless, with no slits in the skirt, just a waterfall of deep blue silk, held together by a delicate gold collar that encircled my neck snugly. A thin chain snaked down my bare back, connecting to the silk just above the base of my spine. Delicate chains branched from the main strip, creating a cage of cold metal that brushed against my skin with every breath.
“Give me a moment.” Rose rushed off, returning a moment later with several brushes and jars. She attacked my face before stepping back, appraising me.
My eyes locked on the woman in the mirror. Rose had exaggerated my eye makeup. There were vicious winged black tips with deep blue dusted on my eyelids. My lips were a simple nude. Under different circumstances, I would have felt dazzling, possibly even powerful.
