The Gamble (The Gamble Series Book 1)

by Kathryn Jacques

  My father is grey. Grey hair, grey eyes, grey mustache. But he’s not a dull, monotonous sort like the walls of the O.Z. He’s an imposing, intimidating sort, like the glinting steel of a sharp knife. His expensive wool suits, however, are always dark blue with matching silk ties. He says they’re the same color as the sky at night, but I don’t think he could really know that for sure because he’s never seen the sky either.

  “It’s fine. Elsa made me breakfast and after lessons I went down to Sector B and read.”

  “I assume Rey found you down there?” The question comes with arched eyebrows, creasing the defined lines in his forehead, though he doesn’t seem angry.

  “Yes.”

  I don’t tell him about the cookie. I trust my father, but sometimes it’s best to not share everything. Rey and I already break enough laws by being friends, I don’t need to give my father more to worry about.

  Placing an arm across my shoulders, he smiles and it’s comforting and friendly. “Elsa has prepared an excellent dinner. Almond crusted fish if my nose is telling the truth. Shall we?”

  I allow him to escort me into the formal dining room, which displays more carved wood paneling, a lush purple rug, vases of fresh flowers from the artificial greenhouse, and a hand-crafted table large enough to seat sixteen in ornate upholstered chairs. We only use the room for special occasions or when he entertains guests. Personally, I prefer the cozy, informal dining nook off the kitchen, but I don’t say anything. My father went through a lot of trouble to put together this dinner for me. Fish is expensive and carefully rationed by the Farmhouse.

  The far door swings open and Elsa’s short, round form bustles in, stray white hairs flying loose about her head. A silver platter full of steaming food balances on her arms. She lays it on the table and then stands straight to address my father.

  “Protector Keslin, Kelsey, dinner is served.”

  “Thank you, Elsa. This looks amazing. And Kelsey is an adult now, you’re going to need to call her Miss Keslin.”

  “Of course, sir. Miss Keslin,” she says with a nod and a wink my direction before disappearing to the kitchen.

  “Dad, she doesn’t have to call me ‘Miss Keslin’. She’s known me since I was twelve.”

  After Rey’s mother was selected in the Gamble, Elsa replaced her as my nanny and tutor. Like Rey and his mother, working for my father allows Elsa to escape the poverty of the subs. She lives in our suite with her own bedroom, enjoys three meals a day and my father even pays for her diabetes medication in addition to her salary. I loved Maeva, still miss her horribly even all these years later, but Elsa couldn’t have been a better replacement. I guess Maeva was sort of like my second mother, and Elsa is like having a grandmother.

  “It’s social etiquette that she’s required to follow,” my father says. “What would happen if you were both in public and she forgot? You know I don’t make the laws and that they’re-”

  “I know, I know. The laws are like stone; unbending, unbreakable and unbiased. We live by them, we die by them.” I recite it like the words mean nothing, which at this point, they almost don’t because I’ve heard and repeated the phrase so many times in my life.

  We eat in silence save the scrape of the silver utensils on the elegant china plates. The fish really is amazing, and we enjoy hot buttered rolls and spiced spinach fresh from the greenhouses to compliment the meal.

  “Munchkin,” my father says, his nickname for me though I’ve never really understood what a “Munchkin” is. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I think I’m just worried about tomorrow.”

  He lays down his fork and wipes his face with a napkin. “Don’t be. Your number is only in once and the odds of it being drawn are astronomical. Mine’s in several hundred times now and some of the Subs have theirs in thousands. It’s so rare for Sector A citizens to be selected anyway.”

  “Mom was.”

  I know I shouldn’t have said it. As much as my mother’s death hurt me, I was only six at the time. It had a much worse effect on my father. He never talks about her anymore. Never. We don’t have any pictures of her in the suite because he couldn’t look at them without crying. Now it’s been so long, I don’t even remember what she looked like though I’ve had people say I look just like her. I guess I have to take their word for it.

  My father’s eyes turn downward. I assume to hide the tears glistening behind them, not that he’d ever admit to crying. “Yes, well. Our safety is never guaranteed. It is the gamble everyone in ROC takes.”

  I feel awful and open my mouth to apologize, but he has already risen from his chair. “I have a present for you.”

  Walking to the sideboard, he picks up a small box wrapped in shimmering green paper and sets it on the table beside me. I tug at the gold ribbon and rip open the paper to find a black velvet jewelry box. Lifting the lid, I discover a tiny, white gold heart dangling on a matching chain. It shines in the light from the overhead chandelier.

  “You probably don’t remember,” he says, removing the necklace and reaching to latch it around my neck, “but this was your mother’s. I gave it to her on our wedding day. After her number was called, she gave it back to me and said it was to be yours on your eighteenth birthday, her way of being here in spirit.”

  I reach up to gently touch the dainty charm, the only thing from my mother left in our entire home. “Dad, who have you arranged for me to marry?”

  He sighs. “You are a wealth of difficult topics today aren’t you? I planned to discuss this with you tomorrow after the party, but since you have asked… Councilmember Walker and I have made arrangements for you and Wyatt to wed in two weeks. You’ll remain here until you finish your studies and then you and Wyatt will move into a temporary suite in Sector B until a suitable one becomes available in A.”

  Flipping around in my seat so quickly, I knock my crystal water glass to the floor where it shatters into a hundred pieces. Water pools into the carpet, but I don’t care as I stare at my father in horror. “No. No! Please, Dad, not Wyatt Walker!”

  “Kelsey, I know you and Wyatt don’t generally care for each other-“

  “Care for each other? I hate him! He’s an terrible person, how can you force me to marry him?”

  “Because his father is the next highest Councilmember and this is what is expected of me. Considering I do not have a son, Wyatt himself will probably be Protector someday. In the brief year he’s been on the Council, he’s already proved ambitious and eager. It’s the best match I could make for you.”

  “Why?” I demand. “This is stupid! If it’s encouraged that everyone not have children in the first place, why is everyone around here so set on getting married?”

  “You know why. Your odds of needing to sell your number for supplies are less if you are married than single because you’ll have two sets of rations and a much higher income on which to rely. I’m getting older, Kelsey, and my number entries automatically double every year. I need to know you’ll be taken care of properly.”

  “I am not marrying him.”

  “Yes, you are. Councilmember Walker and I have already agreed-“

  “No,” I command, standing from my chair, shocked at the power my own voice carries. “You can’t force me to. I’m an adult now and I’m allowed to make my own choices. I can’t marry Wyatt because… because… because I’m marrying Rey!”

  The words are out of my mouth before I even have a chance to stop them. But I don’t regret it. Rey wants to marry me and he is my best friend. I know I love Rey in some way I thought I once understood, but maybe it has somehow become more complicated than that. Maybe someday I will love him the way a wife is meant to love her husband. Maybe I already do. Either way, like Rey said, he is my escape and I’ll be far happier with him than with anyone else. I want to be with him over anyone else.

  “He asked me earlier today,” I say evenly, catching my father’s eyes. “I said yes. You always told me to
never go back on my word.”

  Grounding his jaw, my father stares at me with disappointment. No, not disappointment; with a cool, calm composure and a gaze so steady and unwavering, it seems to pierce through the center of my chest, driving into my heart. This is the way he stares at Councilmembers when they step out of line, the way he stares at a room filled with O.Z. citizens to silence them without uttering a single word.

  I shift uncomfortably, but I don’t dare avert my eyes or drop my head. He’d be so ashamed of me if I did something as submissive as breaking eye contact.

  “I see,” he eventually says. “I trust you understand that it means you will no longer be considered Sector A?”

  I nod, a lump forming in my throat. I battle it down. I can’t cry, not in front of my father, not over something as important as this.

  “So be it,” he continues. “I will speak with Councilmember Walker tomorrow morning informing him of your decision. I will… come up with a believable lie as to why my daughter is marrying someone from the subs considering you aren’t even supposed to be associated with any of them.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper to my father. His face softens, back into the fatherly look that is so familiar.

  “For you, Munchkin, I will do anything.” Then he kisses the top of my head and strokes the back of my hair. “I have to go. There are still some small details I need to prepare for tomorrow.”

  Without another word, he strides from the room and within a few moments, I hear the suite door slide open and his confident gait fades down the metal hallway heading toward the Council Circle.

  I think about leaving too, running down to Sector E and telling Rey, but that would be foolish. It’s after dinner and curfew is now in effect. Pending an actual emergency, only Councilmembers and the Gendarme are allowed in the halls between now and tomorrow morning. I don’t need to risk extra Gamble entries less than twenty-four hours after I’ve turned eighteen.

  The side door opens and Elsa peers in, her wrinkled, green-grey eyes finding me alone in the massive room.

  “Miss Keslin,” she says, shuffling closer, “are you ok?”

  I almost correct her, but my father is right. I can’t ask her to risk her safety because I don’t like formality. “Yes, Elsa. I’m fine.”

  “Child, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”

  Suddenly the tears pour down my cheeks in rivers and a sob escapes from deep in my chest. She hurries across the wide room and draws me into a tight embrace, her pudgy hands stroking my back.

  “I’m going to have to leave, Elsa. I’m going to have to move to Sector E and be a Sub and I’ll never be able to talk to my father again!”

  “Hush, Miss Keslin. Everything will be fine. Being a Sub isn’t so bad. Technically, I’m one even though I live here. And don’t worry about Protector Keslin. He’s allowed you and Rey to be friends all these years, he’ll find a way to continue to be your father whether you’re a Sub or not. He loves you, that’ll never change.”

  Her kind words do little to comfort me, but crying is silly anyway, what does it accomplish? Elsa hands me a handkerchief, she always has several stuffed up a sleeve, and I dry my face.

  “Do you want me to make some hot tea?” she asks. “I can put honey in it.”

  “No. I think I just want to go to bed. We have to be up early tomorrow.”

  Slipping from her arms, I head back through the living room and down the short hall to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and flinging myself onto the large bed.

  Sobs wrack my body. With my choice, I will give up the entire life I have known. No more lavish living quarters, or guaranteed meals or the secure knowledge that my number will never be in the Gamble more than required each year by law. My relationship with my father will be fractured at best. He’ll no doubt face ridicule and admonishment from the Councilmembers and be the butt end of jokes amongst the lower citizens, even if only behind his back as speaking negatively about a Councilmember, especially the Protector, is illegal.

  But he agreed anyway. For me. And this realization makes me cry even harder.

  CHAPTER THREE

  There’s a soft knock at my door, startling me awake. The room is pitch dark, a solid wall of suffocating blackness. I suck in my breath, frozen for a moment. I must have fallen asleep with the overhead light on and Elsa probably came in to turn it off, never switching on my nightlight. I should be old enough to sleep without a nightlight, but the consuming darkness still terrifies me, as though I’ve been sealed inside a tomb.

  A second knock comes, followed by Elsa’s voice from the hall. “Miss Keslin, I have your dress ready.”

  Fumbling for the switch to the table lamp, I flip it on, the golden light chasing away the oppressing dark and quelling my fear. I slide from bed and check my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. My eyes are a little puffy and blood-shot, but my face displays no other signs of last night’s tears.

  Opening my bedroom door, Elsa waits in the hall, a black silk dress draped across one arm. Everyone wears all black on Gamble days, a show of solidarity for the sacrifices some will be forced to make for the greater good.

  “Do you need any help this morning?” she asks. She’s already dressed in a calf length black skirt and knitted sweater, her silver hair in its usual chignon.

  “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  I don’t want to be around anyone. I’m too upset from last night and too anxious about the Gamble. Taking the dress, I dismiss Elsa and shut my door again. My room has an attached private bath and after a quick shower, I twist my wet hair into a low bun like Elsa’s and slip on the dress. I know Elsa made it, she sews all my clothing, but this is one of her best and it fits perfectly, hugging my slim waist, accentuating the few curves I’ve started to form, and offering an elegant wide neckline.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, all five-foot-four, one hundred ten pounds of me, and even though I’m technically an adult now, I still look like a little girl. I feel like one too.

  Frightened dark eyes reflect back at me in a face so pale from having never once seen a single ray of sunshine. I look like death on a day when that is all I will be able to think about anyway.

  I still wear my mother’s necklace and reach for it, running the charm along the chain and seeking some sense of comfort.

  Had my mother stood in her own room twelve years ago staring in the mirror, clutching this very necklace and worrying if her number would be selected? Had my father tried to console her with the knowledge her odds were so low? Had she been frightened anyway, the same way I am now because no matter anyone’s reassurances, the sense of dread won’t go away?

  I remember the moment her number was called. It was my father’s first year as Protector and therefore, our turn to host the Gamble party for all the other Councilmembers and their families. Our suite had been filled with almost a hundred people mingling, eating, laughing, sharing cigars and stories. We had magicians and jugglers to entertain me and the other children, and my father even hired additional nannies to lead us in various games and activities to keep the mood festive and light.

  In Sector A, few people worry about their number being selected because it’s so rare. Most choose to prematurely celebrate their good fortune of not being chosen by holding parties and special events. Gamble evening has even become a popular choice for Sector A weddings after the actual selection of numbers is finished. They figure everyone is already partying, why not add to the merriment?

  In the background, only just audible over the noise of the room, the suite’s loudspeaker called out the names and numbers of the few Sector A citizens selected, only thirty that year, out of the more than four thousand in total who were condemned.

  Trying to hide from Wyatt Walker’s pestering taunts and irritating jabs to my ribs, I stood between my father and mother while they spoke with some of the other guests.

  At first, I didn’t realize it had been my mother’s number called.
I hadn’t heard the name announced and at the time I barely had my own number memorized let alone the numbers of my parents.

  But when my mother stiffened beside me with a sharp inhale of breath, I glanced up. That’s when I saw every eye in the room watching my family and me. Horrified silence hovered in the air, filling the space with its ominous presence and exterminating any hint of joy.

  Then the murmurs started, a full hum broken only by the bark of the speaker as it moved on to the Sector B numbers. I don’t even know if anyone knew the next number called because they were all so focused on one thing.

  Jesmire Keslin, the Protector’s own wife, sentenced to death.

  No one is above the law. No one is protected from the Gamble. No one.

  I started screaming, but my father grabbed me in his arm’s so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. You aren’t supposed to make a scene when you or your loved one’s number is called, even if you’re only six years old. It’s considered rebellious and no one likes a troublemaker.