Venus City 1

by Tabitha Vale

  ****

  She had forestalled talking with her mother in hopes of calming her nerves, but she feared she'd only made it worse. Bellamine's music still swayed across her mind like shadows, and she couldn't shake the ominous feeling it had rooted inside her.

  Braya had praised her sister for the song and thanked her for it. She'd left her with Aspen, realizing it was getting late, and now she was in the same dilemma as before. She couldn't bring herself to knock.

  She was spared, though. The door opened before she had the chance to do anything. Her mother, Charlotte Malister, stood before her, her gaze burning a hole through Braya's skull.

  “What has you wearing a hole in the floor in front of my door?”

  Mother, never one to beat around the bush.

  Braya swallowed hard. Why had she been dreading this? It was only Mother…

  Mother, who loved her, who mentored her, who expected great things from her. Mother, who she so desperately wanted to be like. Why she'd ever had any doubt that her mother would not agree to change her career she didn't know anymore.

  She forced herself to show a calm face. Braya slipped behind the comfort of the cold, stoic mask that her mother had taught her to wear at all times, and she instantly felt better, stronger.

  “I'm sorry, Mother. I've been a little troubled today, but I didn't want you to be bothered,” she said, looking down at her feet. Mother didn't often like it when she looked her in the eyes.

  “Come in,” she ordered briskly. Her mother's silhouette disappeared from the door frame and Braya followed her inside. She'd been in Mother's office numerous times, but she'd never seen it littered with candles, as it was now. She didn't like the eerie affect it had on the room. Faint smoke and scented wax choked the air. Distorted figures jumped across the floors and walls, shadows loomed high in the ceiling, and the windows were hooded in darkness. The rich wood floors were an angry red in the candlelight, and her large desk looked like some hulking creature hunched over and breathing heavily.

  Mother sat behind her desk and steepled her fingers as she stared at Braya. On some level her mother always intimidated her—usually with her presence and position—but it was never inspired by her surroundings. This time was different, though.

  Anxiously, Braya shuffled her feet. “Mother—I wanted to talk to you about—”

  “Your career,” she cut in. Her voice was sharp and commanding. “I already know. You're a Bride. Did you come in here to ask me to change it? You know I can't do that, Braya.”

  “But, Mother!” She nearly shouted. No, shouting would never work with her. “Mother,” she softened her tone, though the tremble in her voice was evident, “you have to change it...”

  “Braya, I don't have to do anything. This issue is out of my hands,” Mother replied, her tone severe. “You know nothing of my position and you dream up the powers I possess within it. I have influence with every member of the Court, and influence with most of the women on the Hem Line and Handkerchief Society, but that doesn't mean I can just snap my fingers and it's done. It takes time to build up trust among the right people, get on their good sides, make ridiculous promises I don't intend to keep. It's all politics, Braya.”

  “So-so I have to stay a Bride?” It almost hurt her to say it.

  “Precisely. Now, leave my study.”

  Short and succinct. Just like all of her encounters with Mother ever since she’d graduated from her academy two months ago in September.

  ****

  The only thing Braya could think of as she walked into Heartland Manor the next morning was Maydessa's imminent commentary. It would be snide, and it would hurt. Braya had been obnoxious about not returning yesterday, and even she acknowledged that she deserved to be mocked for it.

  She managed to avoid her Bride Sisters the entire morning and well into the early afternoon. All of the new Brides were booked with training classes on motherhood, classes that Braya loathed. She couldn't focus—she couldn't do anything that required hand-eye coordination, either. Her hands were constantly trembling, and for a fleeting moment during one of her classes she had wondered if it would ever stop. If she could ever forget what her mother had told her last night.

  But she would never forget. She was living it. Braya had shamed her mother and now she was paying for it. Despite the heavy self-loathing that had descended deep inside her, somewhere in the back of her mind her thoughts scrambled to think of a way to win her mother back.

  She was reminded of the words her mother had said as Braya walked out the door. A dying daughter. A worthless son. Now this.

  This. Braya was this. She'd been aware of her mother's disdain toward her brother and sister, but hearing those words had cut a deep gash in her. She'd never thought she would earn that same disdain that she hated to see against the other two.

  Her Bride Sisters caught up to her during the mid-afternoon tea party. They were told to enjoy the many different kinds of tea, because their final class of the day would be all about tea. Braya didn't know what that had to do with breeding attractive offspring, but who was she to question it?

  Braya didn't pay them much attention. She didn't notice what they were wearing. She didn't notice Emma's weird hairstyle of the day. And she most pointedly didn't hear whatever Maydessa was saying about her returning. It was better that way.

  The only thing she did manage to catch of their conversation after they realized she was zoning everything out was the mention of an upcoming Moon Tamer game. Brielle invited her, but Braya didn't respond. She found the contents of her tea far more interesting.

  “I'm sure even Crowns enjoy sports,” Emma said monotonously.

  “She's not a Crown if she's a Bride—” Maydessa hastened to correct.

  “Yeah, yeah, we already heard you,” Emma grumbled as she took a large drink of tea.

  Braya didn't agree to go to the game that weekend, but she had a feeling she'd be forced to go. Bonding time with Bride Sisters was mandatory, according to the mentors and teachers.

  After the tea party, and the tea class, Braya wandered around, asking a bunch of random girls if they knew where Leraphone's office was, but none of them knew a thing, so Braya went home in a bad temper. She would try again tomorrow, she resolved.

  ~Chapter 4: Underground Flowers~

  It was the weekend, which meant Moon Tamer. It was the biggest sport of the city and the weekends were always hectic. All of the champion games were packed into Saturdays and Sundays, and this weekend was no exception.

  Braya had never been to one of the games, nor had she ever paid much attention to the sport. Most of the citizens of Venus City were fanatic about it, though, and Braya had been a little disturbed by the way it consumed the entire city like an epidemic.

  The game started at four—apparently it was the game of the month—and Braya met the others at two. Since the other three lived in Heartland—and were insistent they all go together—she had to leave her house at one-thirty. They had all planned on taking the Sky Rail there, but Braya had been repulsed by the idea of public transportation and did something that was only an inch less worse than riding the Rail.

  She offered them a ride in her car.

  It was a miserable drive to the Moon District—the dumb sport even had its own chunk of the city dedicated to it—with all of the comments she had to keep dodging about her fancy car, her wealthy family, and anything that had to do with being a Crown. Most of it was Maydessa. Brielle seemed genuinely thrilled to be riding in the car—she even insisted on calling her Miss Braya from then on—while Emma was her typical nonplussed self.

  They arrived a few minutes after three. The rows of decorative trees that surrounded the entire property obscured the view of the stadium at first, but the rounded crystalline roof was an imposing mass of reflected glass, making it impossible to miss.

  There were several tall parking garages about a quarter mile away from the stadium and a long trail of people trickling toward the entrance. The fans were blot
ches of green and blue—Braya guessed those were the colors of the teams. Traffic crept by, buses clogged the way, and the Sky Rail station sparkled just beyond the parking garages, adding more flow to the crowd of people.

  Even the narrow drive that led up to the front doors of the stadium was so swarmed that they couldn't get closer than fifty feet. Braya's driver dropped them off as near as possible.

  Brielle suggested they link arms when they began getting elbowed, shoved, and nearly separated approaching the entrance. Braya wouldn't have minded being free of them if she knew where their seats were.

  The stadium was massive—its hulking form took up more space than the Heartland Manor and lumbered up into the bright, sunny sky like a small mountain. Its curved structure was lined with thick white pillars all the way around and its row of numerous entrances gaped at them like a toothless smile.

  “How did you get these seats? They're surprisingly acceptable,” Maydessa said with a sniff. They had wrestled their way through the tumult of fans to a private box. It was suspended high within the rafters, and when Braya peered down she had a perfect view of the pitch.

  “That's the funny thing,” Brielle quipped, plopping down into one of the soft-cushioned chairs. “I don't even know. Someone mailed them to me.”

  “It did seem outside your budget,” Emma remarked dryly.

  Brielle instantly flushed. “I was going to buy the snacks!”

  “As if that would make up for it,” Maydessa rolled her eyes.

  “Snacks?” Emma asked, her interest written across her face, though if Braya had been looking away she would have thought Emma mocking Brielle by her tone alone.

  “Who really cares how she got the tickets,” Braya said. She was inspecting the room. It was small, but definitely better than sitting elbow-to-elbow like most of the other fans had to. She could see a chunk of seating in her peripheral vision. Violent blues and greens were intermixed, swaying, moving, and if she looked closer she would probably see them arguing like mindless animals.

  “Don't get me going on mysterious mail,” Maydessa said in a haughty tone. She still hadn't sat down, and had her arms folded over her chest indignantly. “Those tickets could have been acquired by a dozen different illegal methods. And now we're sitting here, carefree as ever, as if we don't care for the law...” she bemoaned.

  “I love the law. I pledge my allegiance to it every morning when I wake up.”

  Maydessa didn't appreciate Braya's comment, and sent her a furious glare.

  Outside the box, a chant was rising and the fans were growing restless as they waited for the game to begin.

  “Oh, please don't get mad at me Maydessa,” Brielle pleaded. She was looking back at the other girl, who stood like a shadow near the door, her eyes swimming. “I didn't mean to do anything bad. Honest. I just got them in the mail and I figured it was a lucky gift. Or...maybe an admirer...”

  Maydessa let out an unflattering snort of disbelief before throwing her hands up in defeat. “There's no fighting it. I've been put into the criminal group of Sisters and now I have to go along with it.”

  “You gonna order those snacks?” Emma inquired, her eyes fixed forward. Her hair was done up in loops and her shirt and skirt were blue, though Braya couldn't imagine her acting in the same rabid manner as the fans below them did. Maybe it was a coincidence that her clothes matched one of the team colors. “I could go for some egg-salad sandwiches.”

  “This isn't brunch at Heartland, Emma,” Maydessa said dourly. “I hardly expect them to have egg-salad anything at this place. Only moon-shaped foods.”

  “Then a moon sandwich,” Emma shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. A sandwich is a sandwich.”

  Brielle had lifted back her poofy sleeve of yet another parachute dress—though this one was blue—and was sliding her finger over the tech menu aglow on her skin. “Okay, I'll just order some random stuff, then.”

  “You can do that with a tech pad?” Braya asked.

  “Of course,” Maydessa hastened to interject. “There are very few things the tech pad...ah, tech-arm in this case...” she visibly cringed, “can't do. Ordering food at a Moon Tamer game is one of the simplest commands it can handle. I thought someone as privileged as you would know all about a tech pad.”

  “It's not the tech pad I don't know about,” Braya replied. “It's Moon Tamer I don't pay attention to. At any rate, I wouldn't expect you to be a fan of Moon Tamer, Finch,” Braya shrugged her shoulders.

  Maydessa scowled. “I know a lot about other things. This just happened to be related to Moon Tamer. But—” she paused mid-sentence, her expression narrowing as if she were suddenly offended by what Braya had said. “Do not be so presumptuous, Miss Braya. Don't you see me wearing all green? I'm supporting the Temple Maidens. I like Moon Tamer as much as the next girl. I just happen to know how to keep my feelings about the sport turned down to an acceptable level.”

  “That's what all the closet fanatics claim,” Emma smirked.

  “I was just saying,” Braya smirked. “Since you didn't even notice that the game has begun.”

  Truthfully Braya hadn't noticed at first, either. She had briefly glanced back down at the pitch and had been surprised to see figures zipping around as if they were flying. She'd thought there should at least be some sort of announcement or something before the game began.

  Maydessa was distressed that she'd missed the beginning and bounced over to the cushion beside Brielle, frantically asking the girl if she'd missed anything. Brielle seemed pleased by Maydessa's attention and the two of them launched into a discussion about the game that completely passed over Braya's head.

  Minutes passed like that—Maydessa and Brielle discussing every move the players made, Emma watching closely and silently, and Braya staring off into space. A ping brought Braya out of her reverie and she realized that someone had arrived with their food order. Emma rose, answered the door, paid for the snacks that Brielle had wanted to buy, and sat back down without so much as a sound.

  She set the snacks out on the small table in front of them as her gaze swiveled over to Braya. “You don't understand a thing about this game, do you?”

  Maydessa heard this comment, and laughed loudly. “Don't expect her to lower herself down to our commoner sport.”

  Braya shrugged. “Glad you're catching on, Finchies. I don't give one care for this little game of tag.”

  “Tag,” Emma repeated, shaking her head.

  “Then why did you come, Miss Braya?” Brielle asked with bright, hurtful eyes.

  “Had to.”

  “Want me to explain the rules to you?”

  “Brielle, don't bother with that one,” Maydessa ordered, her back stick-straight and her eyes still focused on the game. “She's only here because she has to. The rest of us had to fight with every limb for the chance to be a Bride and she doesn't care. It's not good enough for her. It was given to her like a shabby pair of hand-me-downs. She's horribly embarrassed by this whole thing and she only came to this game because you heard the teachers—they want all of the Bride Sisters to bond with each other. Braya would not be spending any time with us if it weren't mandatory. I mean, look at her clothes. She's wearing that provocative purple lace dress while the rest of us are supporting our teams with appropriate clothes. She still hasn't gotten it through her head that being a Bride means being a commoner and ergo, not a Crown.” Her tone was sickeningly sweet like honey, but sharp as a slap.

  Braya felt the anger lurch through her like a violent cough. A low growl escaped her throat at the same time that she jumped to her feet. In a flash the table was overturned, the food strewn and smeared into the floor. Braya was breathing heavily and the distant cheers of the crowd seemed to rebound in tandem with her heartbeat thundering through her ears. Maydessa continued to stare out the window. Brielle's chin trembled; she tried not to look directly at Braya. Emma was staring mournfully at the ruined snacks.

  Braya wasn't even aware of knocking the table o
ver, but she wanted more. More damage—wanted to break something, hurt someone. Her eyes bore into the side of Maydessa's face, whose gaze remained steadfast on the game. How dare she insult her like that? That was the very problem with the worthless Finches—they always had the nerve to insult the Crowns, as if they had the right. As if the Crowns deserved it for being better.

  Clenching her fists, Braya advanced. Brielle whimpered. Braya's eyes caught the redhead's fearful expression, but she wasn't looking at Braya. She was looking at the game.

  Involuntarily, Braya's eyes flicked to the game. She had no idea what Brielle was upset over, but something caught her attention—something so small, so insignificant, but it snagged her and she silently cursed herself for it.

  It was the shape of the pitch. It struck her by surprise, and she nearly felt it physically. How had she not noticed it before? It was erected in the exact same shape as a fish bowl.

  She was dragged into a distant memory. Braya strained against it, tried to reject the image that bloomed in her mind, but the scene was already unraveling.

  Bellamine, only nine, standing over her shattered fish bowl. Colorful fish, dead, scattered across the broken glass and water-soaked floor. Braya panting, her anger subsiding, standing next to her sister. Guilt, shame. They had consumed her as she stood with the evidence of her temper near her feet. Bellamine had loved those fish more than anything. She had only ever talked to them, no one else. After Braya had killed them in one of her flashes of anger, Bellamine had, oddly enough, latched onto her. She'd become infatuated with Braya instead of furious. Braya had never understood it.

  She'd tried to distance herself from Bellamine, but in the end she’d fallen for her sister's gentle affection. Nevertheless, the memory continued to haunt Braya. The moment back at Heartland Manor when she'd glimpsed the fish in the water, she'd had to force the memory down. This time, with her emotions torn open like a ripped seam, she hadn't been able to stamp it down.