by Tabitha Vale
Anyway, child, I didn't have clearance to access the Sare in order to make that medicine, and unfortunately I was caught. Ophelia let me off with a warning, but I was never to return to the vault again. When I made you wait three weeks for our appointment, I'm sure you were frustrated, and I'm terribly sorry about that, child. I had to get back in contact with Ophelia in order to get the cure. Many times she ignored my pleas, and at one point I had feared I wouldn't get it at all. That was at the same time you happened across me in the hall, when I told you there was no cure. At length, I just want to apologize for all of the grief I've caused. I hope this cure can make up for my mistakes.
Be safe.
My Regards,
Leraphone.
Mother Ophelia…her mother? The irony was almost funny. Yet Braya couldn't find the energy to care. Nothing in that letter struck her as important as losing her sister.
“Braya?” Asher asked, shaking her shoulder. “Braya, were you listening to this letter?”
She gave the slightest nod.
“Come on, what are you going to do?” He asked, flustered. She was distinctly aware that his eyes were their mismatched blue and gold tones, but she didn't acknowledge it. “We need to get you out of here, right away.”
“Channing is your boss,” she said, somber and slow.
“Yeah, so what?” He sounded perpetually frustrated. She'd never heard him so irritated, so helplessly desperate. “Fuck him to hell,” he swore passionately. “I'll do whatever it takes to keep you protected.”
“You knew his plan,” she continued, not showing any of her surprise at his foul language. “You lied to me, before. You said you were here to warn us about war. It has nothing to do with that, it turns out.”
“I didn't know anything of that,” Asher yelled. “Have you ever seen him down in that damn chapel? We even dug out that stupid balcony and had to take care of the flowers in that wall and find all the crystals for it, all so Channing could have a place of spiritual rest. He said it would help him meditate, help increase his ability to control magic. But guess what? He never goes there! He hates being underground. He's above that,” he said with a snort. “He worked his way into Ophelia's graces, charmed her, acquired a cushy position in her Court. It's even confirmed in this letter!” He waved it in the air like a mad man, half of it crumpled in his angry fist. “She's in love with him. I haven't seen him since we got to Venus City. How would I have known anything about this?”
“You must be as surprised as I am, then,” she said, deathly level and toneless. Braya was staring at the contents of the vial, the purple liquid sloshing against the sides.
“Funny,” he said sardonically. “You're nearly jumping up in shock.”
“I am surprised,” she countered, though without conviction.
“But it doesn't matter to you,” he concluded, staring at her in wild longing. His dark hair was mussed up in certain places, adding a certain flare to his anger. It was dangerously attractive, too, when coupled with the hard mounds of his cheekbones, especially pronounced in his anger, and the vivid coals of gold and blue burning under the hood of his long lashes. “You've given up.”
“I lost,” Braya murmured, barely audible. She held the purple vial up. “This is the symbol of my failure. Bellamine's cure, a second too late. That's me. Always a second too late. Always behind the curve, always out of the loop. And Bellamine had to pay for my faults.”
“It's not your fault,” Asher attempted to convince her. He was desperate. The thinness of his voice was not flattering on him. He was trying to yank her to her feet, but Braya grew limp in his hands. “You don't have to blame yourself for this. There's still time. This—” He flapped the letter in her face. “This is your key. You're finally ahead of the curve now.”
Braya let out a shuddering laugh. It was mirthless. Dark. “It's too late, ironically.”
“My God, Braya, if you don't help yourself, I'll force you to,” he hissed into her ear.
Braya gave a sinister smile at that. “Try me.”
“Braya, come with me.” It was firm, it was direct. It was an order.
Braya could feel her body moving to accommodate his command. She fought it. Braya, come with me. His voice trickled through the back of her mind, a stream of warm water across her skin. It felt so pleasant, so convincing. Braya inhaled at the sharp pain that followed; the tight grip squeezing her, making her chest feel impossibly narrow. The chilling fingers were grazing across her back like knives cutting into paper. She let out a loud cry as a final wave crashed down on her, and she let the sweet darkness encircle her. Finally, a respite.
~Chapter 19: Disturbing Likeness~
Everything was in full swing for the weddings that day. Fifty couples were getting married, so it was a grand occasion. Brielle was fluttering around the room in a constant panic, throwing clothes from the closet, announcing Moon Tamer news, and tossing compliments to her three roommates. Emma floated back and forth from the bedroom to the closet, making snide comments to Brielle and occasionally asking about Moon Tamer stats. Maydessa was in the bathroom for most of the time, applying layers of makeup and burning her hair into tight ringlets, with the frequent cry of annoyance at Brielle.
Braya, on the other hand, moved through her routine without much conviction. She didn't want the others to detect that anything was wrong—she loathed their sympathy more than she loathed her situation.
All that remained of last night was a numbness, and Braya was thankful for it. Aside from that, life moved on as if nothing remotely out of the ordinary had happened last night. As if her life hadn't been upturned in the course of one night. She wished she could forget, but she couldn't—no matter how hard she tried.
Leraphone's letter and the antidote to Tristant was still at her bedside, though tucked out of view from the other three, Braya knew it was there. She almost felt like they were watching her as she got ready, privy to her disregard of the warning Leraphone had issued.
Upon waking that morning, she'd considered the contents of Leraphone's letter. Should she save herself? Keep herself hidden from Channing so that he couldn't steal the blood loyalty of the Venus Sare...? Braya had decided against it. She had failed her sister—she could only imagine going through the process again and failing someone else who counted on her. Braya was a failure and she wouldn't bring that on anyone else, ever again.
She would marry Latham, or whoever they chose to replace him. She would live a quiet, normal life and forget all of this had ever happened. If Channing was killing her family members—family she'd never known were related to her—and was really after her like Leraphone had claimed, she would not stop him. He could take her, if he wished. He wouldn't get the blood loyalty if he killed her anyway, not with Leraphone and Aspen and Ophelia still alive. What would her one sacrifice mean, anyway? Absolutely nothing.
“The game is going to start before I go down the aisle!” Brielle cried, sitting at the edge of her bed, staring down at her tech-arm. “How long are each of the ceremonies supposed to take?”
“Five minutes each,” Emma replied.
“So that means I'll miss ten minutes of the game,” Brielle mused. “Or maybe I should just keep listening to it while we're getting married. Certainly there's no harm in it while I'm walking down the aisle, and when the officiant is talking. Really, the only time I need to be concentrating on the ceremony is when we get to kiss.”
“Why didn't you apply to be on a Moon Tamer team instead of a Bride?” Maydessa asked haughtily. “You're not taking this very seriously.”
“That was my first and second choice,” Brielle exclaimed. “I wanted to be a warrior or a healer, but my dad told me I should have something realistic, so I had Bride as my third option.”
“Unbelievable,” Maydessa muttered. “And I suppose you didn't have Bride as your first choice either?” She shot her question in Emma's direction.
Emma shrugged. “Not really.”
“Here we are, Grade Three Brides,
and I'm still the only one who cares about this,” Maydessa bemoaned, disappearing into the bathroom once more.
“Braya, do you need to do your makeup?” Brielle asked, seeing that all Braya had done was wash her face and brush her hair. “We can kick Maydessa out if you need time.”
“God knows she has enough makeup on for the rest of her marriage,” Emma added.
“I can hear you guys, you know,” Maydessa hollered from the bathroom.
“Well, stop hogging the space,” Emma barked.
“It's our wedding day, too,” Brielle pointed out, though she had gotten lost in the game statistics once more.
Braya didn't say anything to them. Instead of going into the bathroom, she pulled up a portable mirror from her nightstand and did her makeup sitting on her bed. Once she was done with that, she extended it so that it was a full-length mirror and she did her hair in elegant twists, and added a few white ribbons. When her appearance was acceptable, she donned her wedding dress. Had this been any other circumstance, had her sister survived, she would be excited for the wedding just because of the dress. The fabric across her chest was layered like multiple flower petals pressed over each other, and the off-the-shoulder sleeves were so ruffly and elaborate that they stuck out from her shoulders almost like wings. The sleeves were long and hid her hands from view, drooping wide like sacks under her wrists. She had a thick, four-inch, lace twist across her middle, and her skirt was long, fluid, and layered like the piece across her chest. Exquisite detailing lined every seam, and the soft silk of the inside brought a nice chill to her flushed skin. Bellamine would have loved it.
Before it was time to leave, Braya shot another glance to her nightstand where the cure and the letter remained. She let her fingers graze over the paper, lingering for a moment. Frowning at the indents from the back of the paper she hadn't noticed previously, she flipped it over. She was surprised to see a whole sheet of health boosters taped on the underside of the letter. There had to be more than twenty of them. On instinct, Braya removed them from the letter and stuck them in her dress.
The weddings were to begin at one in the afternoon and end at six. There were to be five intermissions of five minutes, and each marriage only took five minutes per couple. Even though each of their roles was small, every couple had to arrive in the Great Hall at eleven for brunch and instruction, and then they were to arrange themselves depending on which group they'd been put in. Braya was part of the second group, after the first intermission.
At brunch Braya was surprised to see Page sitting at her table. He informed her that he was her new Groom, but when she questioned him on it, he remained silent. As she sat next to him, silently brooding at the switch, her mind drifted up to the purple liquid still in her room. The cure was useless for Bellamine. What about Page? Did he deserve it? She admittedly knew little about him—didn't even know if Asher really cared for him or not—but she did know that he was Channing's son. Tristant or not, he wasn't worthy of her effort. She would not give him the cure.
A woman stood to toast to their good luck and happy marriages. Braya suspected Leraphone would be standing in her place, if she hadn't run for it. At that thought, her mind drifted off.
Where was Leraphone? How did Aspen feel about having to live in hiding? She was sad to realize she didn't know enough of her real brother to venture a guess, but she did have the slightest feeling he might find anything better than living as he used to. She recalled last night at the hospital. I don't know who our real parents are, but I was hoping you would be willing to search for them with me. Had Leraphone told him by now? That Ophelia was their mother? Perhaps he'd want to know their father, too.
God, as if Braya needed another complication in her life. A father? Charlotte had always said their father was no one for them to worry over. Now Braya knew that to be wrong, even though she'd never given much thought as to who he could possibly be.
After brunch ended, all of the Brides were ushered up to the second floor. The corridors were decorated in white; flowers, ribbons, and anything else that seemed remotely celebratory for a wedding.
They entered a large waiting room that was connected to the outdoor sky walk; the wedding aisle that she had seen during her meeting with Asher in the courtyard below. A gleaming white carpet was rolled over it with white and pink flowers sprinkled along its edges. The giant trees sprouted up from the adorning holes that lined both sides of the platform, ribbons and flowers also ornamenting their trunks. The space below the platform was dark and impossible to see into, almost like the aisle was floating on a sea of black water. Nets had been hung over the dark spaces with more flowers sprinkled on top. With no space for pews or chairs, the audience was shoved up onto the balconies of the third and fourth floors, much like the box seats in the Moon Stadium. The sun was shining, as it did everyday, illuminating a stage at the end of the aisle.
Braya spied another room opposite the Bride's waiting room, just behind the stage, with arched, open-air windows. The Grooms were milling around inside, just as anxious as the Brides.
Braya kept to herself while they waited. She lingered near the door, debating with herself. Even though she couldn't see any route out of her fate, she was still tempted by the idea of running. Several times she wound herself up with thorny musings over what an awful person she was and nearly caught herself on the verge of tears. Upon that, she'd quickly shove Bellamine's memory out of her head and force herself to think of the only other person who could distract her mind. Asher.
And speak of the devil—he appeared just outside the door after he crossed her mind.
“Braya,” he whispered. “Come out here a second.”
She slipped out, grateful for the distraction.
He was wearing a sharp black suit with a dark blue tie. His hair was swept across his forehead, and his eyes seemed brighter.
“Did you see? They replaced Latham with Page,” he said.
She nodded. “Why is that?”
“I don't know,” he said, seemingly distressed. “Channing must have needed Latham for something else. Latham was always his most trusted Locer. Plus, I have a feeling that was why Channing inserted Page and me into the Groom program. Although, I don't know why he picked Page over me to marry you if Page is merely a replacement and nothing more.”
“I suppose that means something's going to happen,” she guessed, not particularly interested.
“Evidently,” he said strenuously. “Channing is here. Ophelia and Charlotte Malister are also members of the audience. I don't have a good feeling about this, Bray. I think we need to get you out of here.”
Braya gave a hollow laugh. “Maybe Sir Channing just wants to support his dear son in his marriage.”
“Channing would have been here no matter if his son was getting married or not,” Asher said through grit teeth. “He has Ness and all of the Locers here as well.”
“Sounds like he's got something big planned,” she said in sick amusement.
“This is not funny,” he said.
“What about you?” She asked, examining the lace in her sleeve. “Are you meant to be here, too?”
“I'm here to protect you.”
She smirked. “Does Channing know one of his little sharks is going behind his back?”
Asher looked like he loathed the idea of being one of Channing's little sharks. “Look, don't test me here, Bray. I'll save you even if you don't want me to.”
She fixed him with a look. “Then why didn't you, last night? You sent me unconscious. You could have done anything with me. Kidnapped me, kept me in hiding. You have that kind of control over me and I would not be able to do a single thing about it.”
Asher averted his gaze. “I thought about it...but I don't want to take you unwillingly. I want you to want it, too.”
I'd been waiting for you to bend to my will, actually, so I could put an end to this debate we always have. He'd also kept himself at bay when they had argued over the Venusian men. Why was he so chivalrous
, even though he knew he could overpower her? Why did he wait until he had her consent before he went on with his point?
“And if I don't ever agree?” She asked. “If I walk down that aisle and marry Page...if Channing jumps out of his seat and attempts to spear me through with a knife. What if those are things I'm willing to let pass? Will you interject?”
“Braya,” he hissed, “Stop saying those things. You can't honestly tell me you want to die.”
Braya pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “It wouldn't be all that bad, would it? Bellamine suffered because of me, so why shouldn't I take the rightful blame and welcome whatever punishment follows?”
“What is wrong with you?” He asked, incredulous. “You can't keep beating yourself up! That wasn't your fault.”
“But I promised her,” she said, finding an undesirable hitch in her voice and forcing herself to look away, to recompose herself. “I promised her,” she continued in a weak voice, “that I would cure her. What am I if I can't keep one promise?”
“Human,” Asher breathed. “You're only human,” he said, reaching forward with gloved hands so that he could stroke her cheek. “With all that's going on in your life, I'm impressed that you're still standing.”
