by Tabitha Vale
It was an order, but Braya didn't want to obey. She was flummoxed. Why was he getting so worked up about his family? And what was up with that gold eye? Was it a foreigner thing? Perhaps he had an illness...
Just like on the underground balcony, Braya heard Asher's voice invade her mind. It filled her up and she shivered at its chilling tenderness. Tell me about your family. The iron grip wrapped around her, the frigid touch carved a path down her back, and then her mouth was open and she was divulging to him all there was to know about her family. Even though all she really wanted to do was ask about that golden eye!
“My Mother's name is Charlotte Malister and she's the Head of the Fair Lady's Court. She's a very powerful woman, though I'm sometimes intimidated by her. She's a very busy woman, so she couldn't raise us herself. She hired a Bride named Harmony, who raised me, my older brother, and my younger sister since we were young,” Braya rambled on, much to her horror. “My brother Aspen is going to become a Groom soon and my younger sister Bellamine is sick with Tristant—”
“You're kidding,” he murmured. “Go on. Tell me more about your sister.”
Braya panicked. She couldn't tell him about Bellamine. She'd rather pass out. Bellamine was counting on her to protect her, cure her...not spill her secret.
“Well, my mother is ashamed of her,” Braya sputtered out with a cry, “so she hides her in the house. No one knows she even exists. But...ugh...” Braya gasped as she tried to clamp her mouth shut. “She...ahh...no...” Braya panted. Sweat soaked her back as she fought the urge to keep talking. Pain was cording up her body and she could feel something cold blooming in the back of her head. “Please,” she rasped. She was on the verge of losing consciousness again.
“Stop,” he ordered sharply. She couldn't see much. Her vision was covered in colorful spots. Her head swam, and she couldn't hold it up any longer.
Braya crashed into him, limp against his body. She heard him mutter something. His arms came around her and his hands were in her hair, his fingertips massaging her temples. He was speaking, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. The rumbling in his chest, though, was comforting, and coupled with his firm touch she quickly regained her composure.
She jumped away from him the second she was sure she had the strength. He stared at her with unreadable eyes as she struggled to her feet. She purposely left the box of boosters on the bench and wobbled away from him as fast as her leaden legs would carry her. If she had the voice for it, she would have screamed at him for making her reveal Bellamine's secret. How could she have let her guard down around him? He was a foreigner, and no matter how much she wanted to know the details behind his group's presence in Venus City, she vowed to never let it happen again. For Bellamine's sake.
~Chapter 8: Garden Party~
Braya couldn't remember a morning when she didn't wake up in a bad mood. This morning was no exception.
It had started with a woman's voice. It was strict, professional, and not at all pleasant to those dangling in a place that stretched truth over dream like a rug over too much floor; that purgatory between sleep and reality.
...cannot hope to find one's perfect match without striving for perfection herself...
In Braya's half-asleep state, the voice didn't make any sense. Was the woman talking to her?
...crucial to greet the young man accordingly. Never make him feel like he is unwanted...
It was tugging at her, drawing her closer to full-consciousness.
...with your best smile. In order to strike that balance, a gentle touch can speak more than words...
Braya awoke with a choked gasp. Cold, light, and a loud whooshing sound all rushed at her at the same time, and Braya felt like she'd just been yanked out from a warm tub of water. Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. She felt a fleeting panic ripple over her skin when she realized she wasn't in her own bed.
Braya's eyes eventually adjusted to the light, and her surroundings bloomed up around her. She was in the Heartland dormitories. That's right. She'd decided to stay at the manor last night instead of going home because of the physical strain the master-slave link had inflicted on her. But where was that woman whose horrible growl-of-a-voice had woken her up? Had it been a dream?
That was impossible. She could still hear it. Her eyes darted through the room in hopes of finding her, but the only thing she found was Maydessa's tech pad propped up on the nightstand beside her bed. It was glowing with a recording icon stamped across the screen. So that's where the voice had come from, Braya realized.
Maydessa was nowhere in sight, though. The bathroom door was shut and a slice of light peaked out from underneath. Glowering in that direction, Braya threw her blankets off and made to pound the door down. She didn't get very far, however, before a wave of dizziness swept over her and she was sprawled along the end of her bed.
Brielle, who had just emerged from the closet, noticed Braya's graceless fall onto her bed and rushed over with a little cry.
“Miss Braya, are you all right? Oh goodness, you look, well, not so good,” she said as she knelt down to touch Braya's face. “Here, let me get you something.”
She rushed to the bed just to the left of Braya's, noisily ruffled through the contents in her side table, muttered to herself, shoved the small table drawer shut—the sound of it sent Braya's nerves on edge—and then appeared again at Braya's side.
Braya was clinging to her blankets, trying to keep herself from sliding onto the floor. Brielle helped her climb back up to the foot of the bed, much to Braya's chagrin, and then shoved a couple pills into her hand.
“Here, take these,” she said with a small smile. “They will help with any dizziness, nausea, or sick feelings you may have. I used to take ‘em after my arm operation. I was sick for a month afterward!”
Braya eyed them warily.
“Go ahead,” Brielle urged. At that moment, Emma came through the door that led into the hallway. “It will cure anything, I promise! Besides, you don't want to miss the garden party this morning, do you?”
Braya scowled. “Of course I wouldn't mind missing that,” she grumbled. “Where's my water?”
“Oh!” Brielle exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I'm so stupid! I'm sorry, I'll get you some. Hold on a sec.”
As Brielle rushed to barge into the bathroom—Maydessa's scream of protest made Braya smirk—Emma slipped into the tent drapes of Maydessa's bed and turned the recording off. Braya let out a sigh of gratitude.
Emma moved toward one of the armchairs in the middle of the room and picked up a small box. Braya's eyes nearly jumped out of her head. That was the box of boosters that Asher had tried to give her last night.
“This came in the mail this morning,” Emma said, handing it to Braya. “Lucky you stayed here last night, I suppose.”
“Yeah, lucky,” Braya grumbled under her breath. There really was no way of out-maneuvering that guy. She wanted to examine the boosters more closely, but she had to shove the box under her blankets when Brielle came stumbling out of the bathroom with a glass so full of water that it sloshed about the edges and spilled out onto the floor with each running leap she took.
“Here, Miss Braya,” she presented with a sort of triumphant glow. Braya could only imagine the struggle she'd had with Maydessa. “Drink up! And if you want, you can wear one of my dresses.”
At Braya's look of dismay, she laughed. “Don't worry, not one of my parachute dresses. It's rather pretty. I just can't wear it because of my arm.”
Brielle raced off to the closet as Braya popped the pills into her mouth and swallowed it down with the water.
“You'd think that tech-arm was more trouble than it's worth,” Emma murmured, her eyes locked on the small trail of water soaking into the carpet.
“Oh, no,” Brielle's voice answered them from inside the closet. She sounded as if she were tearing open a box. “It's all right. Now I'm saving up for an operation that will completely hide it from everyone else but me. Soon enoug
h I'll be able to wear normal clothes again.”
Maydessa, swinging the bathroom door open, snorted at Brielle's last words. “Why not pursue things more worthy of a Bride? Sometimes I swear I'm the only here taking this thing seriously.”
“You are,” Emma said dryly.
“And do refrain from listening to those lousy recordings next time,” Braya said with a wave of her hand. She was already feeling better. “That stupid Finch voice woke me up.”
Maydessa had her hands on her hips. “And was that you who turned it off? You're not even supposed to be here.”
“I have a bed here, so I have every right,” Braya countered.
“Are we going to have to listen to another one of your tirades about how you’re better than us because you used to be a Crown?”
Braya ignored that comment. “Perhaps you shouldn't be a Bride at all, Finch. If you can't even go one day without insulting everyone else, you're not exactly Bride material, you know.”
“This coming from the girl who hates everything about this career,” Maydessa sneered. “Why don't you—”
“Found it!” Brielle announced at the door of the closet. She held something small and pink in her hand, and Braya realized it must be the dress. She decided to take this opportunity to escape Maydessa. She jumped up from her bed, box of boosters in hand, snatched the dress with a quick thanks, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Braya showered, dried her hair, arranged it as beautifully as she could, and before she dressed, Braya remembered the box of boosters. She'd have to do it eventually, and it was better that she do it on her own than in front of Asher under one of his commands.
Despite what they'd be used for, Braya was somewhat excited about the boosters. Girls dreamed of boosters and plugs. They could make you whoever you wanted, give you abilities only possible in fantasy.
She examined them for a moment before applying them. There was a running enhancement, stamina enhancement, vision enhancement, and reflex enhancement. She wasn't entirely sure what they would do, but knew she would find out soon enough. There were no directions printed on the back for how to use them—after all, these were illegally acquired—so Braya was somewhat at a loss. Did she need water to imprint the badges into her skin? Or would they simply absorb on their own?
Deciding against using water, she peeled the back off of one and pressed it into her lower back, a place where no one else generally saw of her. People usually branded themselves with boosters in obvious parts of their body, but she didn't have that luxury. Braya used the mirror, but the angle was slightly awkward. She let out a little gasp when the booster turned cold against her skin, like a small ice cube, melted, and then clung to her back as if it were a pin. In the mirror it looked like a blue, circular tattoo, faintly glowing against her light skin.
After she applied the other three, Braya dressed. Brielle was right; the pink dress she'd loaned to Braya was cute. It was strapless with a ruffly skirt, a pink fabric belt, a vertical row of sparkling beads from the belt to the chest, and a pale pink bow fastened over her left breast in the shape of a flower. Very gardeny.
****
The Heartland Manor sat on a vast property. On her way to the gardens, she noticed two other manors—slightly smaller than Heartland—hunched behind a cluster of trees. Maydessa instantly belted out the information—info she claimed every proper Bride should know—about the other two manors. One was named Rubytide, which was where all the married Bride and Grooms lived and raised their brood of attractive children, and the other was called Opal. Opal also housed Bride families, but it had a second duty of training Brides who were to become Maids in Crown families.
“If I don't get a Crown husband, I wouldn't mind being trained at Opal to become one of those lovely family's Maid,” Maydessa quipped as the other two manors sunk out of sight and the gardens grew closer.
“We did only get one Crown Groom in our group,” Emma pointed out.
Maydessa giggled. “Of course, how silly of me. How could I not get him?”
“I think Braya should have the Crown Groom, don't you think?” Brielle said. It was the first time she'd elected not to address her with the title of Miss. Braya was slightly disappointed by it. “She's a Crown and she doesn't really like this job anyway, so shouldn't we at least let her have the Crown Groom?”
“That doesn't matter at all!” Maydessa shouted at Brielle. “She'll get whoever she deserves.”
Braya rolled her eyes. “You lot are mental. None of us get to choose our Groom, anyway.”
“Who's the Crown? Brielle, who is it? Check the stats on your stupid little arm,” Maydessa ordered, clutching Brielle's green sleeve. They were at the gardens now, and great, elegant tents had been erected for them to roam under without being exposed to the sun. Tables covered in white linen arranged with finger foods, tea, and other delicacies were grouped around quaint table settings for couples. The gardens stretched out around the tents, hedges rising like waves, large trees preening under the sunlight, bushes, flower beds, and statues resting along pathways and small ponds. Braya could hear a fountain in the distance, and see the tops of gazebos just above the hedges.
“Latham Featherwood,” Brielle whispered to Maydessa, looking pleased that her arm had been useful for the other girl. “Braya has him today, though. You have Julian Westview, he was Braya's ball date, I have Troy Black, your ball date, and Emma is with the guy I had at the ball, Phillip—”
“Braya, switch with me,” Maydessa pleaded. She was at Braya's side, squeezing her elbow.
Braya yanked herself free from her grip. “Hell no. I had Julian last time.”
“You'll like Latham, possibly,” Emma commented, already heading to the tables of sandwiches.
“No!” Maydessa cried in a hushed voice. “I have to have Latham this turn! I need to make sure he falls for me.”
Braya shrugged. “None of them fall for any girl. You guys chose these four, but out of them the staff picks for us.”
Braya didn't care so much. She was still sure that the Mud-sharks in that stupid underground chapel would slip up eventually and she'd have her chance to change her career. That's all that mattered, which meant that she would have to meet all of them, be around them as much as possible so she could be ready for an opportunity. It didn't matter what they were doing in Venus City, she resolved. They'd been there for five months without success, and once Braya turned them in, everything would go back to normal.
Braya could see the Grooms being led from Heartland to the gardens in the far distance. Emma already had a plate piled high in sandwiches and was heading to one of the tables. Brielle and Maydessa were still in line, with Maydessa muttering over the redhead's shoulder in a mutinous way. Braya imagined her to be haggling Brielle to change the line-up today so she could be with that Latham guy.
Braya moved to get in the food line. This was their breakfast and since she'd missed dinner last night, she was extremely hungry. But something stopped her; a spasm in her left leg, twisting and knotting like a giant clump of thorns. Her leg buckled and her arms flew out to grab something to steady herself with. A firm hand enclosed hers, and held her upright.
Braya winced, looking up to see her hands in a strange man's grip.
“Are you all right, Miss Braya?” He asked. His magenta eyes were sharp, intelligent behind large, rectangular glasses. His features were sharp as well, and she couldn't help thinking how well his glasses suited him. He was handsome, but that was typical of Grooms.
She nodded. “Yes. Just help me to that table,” she indicated the closest vacant one. He supported her as she limped to the table, and she silently hoped that no one else noticed. Another spasm attacked her, but this time it shot up and down her leg instead of knotting in her calf. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, in order to keep from crying out in pain. What was causing this? Was it the medicine Brielle had given her? Or the boosters? She knew nothing about either of them.
“I'm Latham Featherwood,” the guy
who'd helped her introduced, smiling. “And if my eyes aren't deceiving me, you're my date for the day, Miss Braya Vace. It's a pleasure to meet you.” He had an air of sophistication about him that was uncommon among men, and she found it intriguing. He had a large frame, broad shoulders, muscular arms, but his glasses, easy smile, smart fashion, and simple brown hair overshadowed them. Softened him.
“You're right,” she breathed as the pain receded, “I'm Braya.”
“Then, this is for you,” he said, outstretching his hand with a red flower. “It's a hibiscus. It means rare, delicate beauty. At the ball the other night, your Sister, Emma, pointed you out to me. At the sight of you, I thought of this flower. You're indeed a delicate beauty.”
Braya couldn't help the blush that flared up at her neck. The compliment was overwhelming, and she'd never received one like it, so she was speechless for a moment. How could she respond to that?
She cleared her throat and reluctantly accepted the flower. “Thank you, I suppose. Was there a flower you gave to Emma?”
“No,” he said as he sat across from her. “I didn't even think of it. Gracious, how awful of me.”
If it had been Maydessa who hadn't gotten the flower, Braya would have felt very pleased. Instead, she stared at the pretty flower, wondering if she should accept it. She'd never seen any of the other Grooms giving gifts to the other girls. In fact, it was extremely rare for them to act outside of the usual code of conduct, which was something along the lines of simply chatting. There was no need to be charming, seductive, or flirty. No form of romance was implemented or encouraged, and Braya had never thought about it until now. This program was arranged, their partners chosen for them, so what was the point in romance? Braya knew that if the men were capable of it, the girls would swoon for any slice of romance they could get.
