by D. S. Murphy
“I’m from Denvato,” Jazmine said. “We protect the southern borders. Camina is from the far North, where it’s always winter. That’s why she looks like she’s never seen the sun.”
“Nobody has ever seen the sun,” I frowned. Dark gray clouds of ash filled the sky at all times.
“Picture the ash, then add snow,” Camina said. “That’s Iklebot, home sweet home. We’re on the far edges of the Kingdom, one of the furthest compounds away from the citadel, so we have to protect ourselves, and the shipments and supply line.”
“Protect them, from what?” I asked.
“Rebels and mutids, mostly.”
“The slagpaw are puppies compared to what we’ve got up north.” Camina said.
“You fight them?” I asked.
“Only if necessary.” Camina said. “And few survive. The worst are the elites from other kingdoms though. Not all the elites wanted to be part of King Richard’s utopia. Some of them formed their own cities, far away. They attack every once in awhile. When that happens, we hide in bunkers underground, until reinforcements arrive from the citadel. It’s a six-day journey.”
My head was spinning, and it wasn’t just from Jazmine’s kick. I thought all the compounds were protected. That was basically the whole point. I never realized that Algrave’s proximity to the citadel provided us with a bubble of safety.
Mary came into the room, followed by several other girls. Her eyes widened when she saw me. My arms were covered with bruises and I felt like my face was lopsided, like my jaw wasn’t properly aligned. I introduced her quickly to Jazmine and Camina, just before Master Svboda came in.
“She’s from Iklebot too,” Camina whispered, with a touch of pride in her voice. “She was already a fierce warrior when she was chosen, but then she won the Trials and became champion. Her elite husband offered to Ascend her, but she chose to remain human instead. I heard her husband died defending her from an attack. Since then she’s dedicated herself to training the new chosen.”
“Today, we are going to learn how to dance.” Master Svboda said after she’d gotten our attention. I groaned, joining a chorus of the other girls. Not everyone was disappointed. Mary looked relieved, and I saw Jessica actually smile. Of course she’d be good at dancing.
“But first,” Master Svboda said, “I need to tell you about blood memories. When an elite feeds from a human, they will sometimes draw fragmented memories along with the blood. Some of these are so realistic they can seem like personal memories, motor movements especially. Skills that take years to learn can be gained in an instant. Elites, if they choose, can pass these memories deliberately with the elixir, if they concentrate on the memories during harvesting. In today’s elixir,” she said, holding up a vial. “There is a memory. A powerful one. Close your eyes and try to find it.”
She prepared the short glasses of elixir again, adding two drops to each glass. I was glad I didn’t have to wait until after running laps today, my jaw was starting to swell and ache. I downed my glass in one gulp, and felt the elixir wash away my pain. A minute later, I was buzzing with energy. I was ready to start moving, but Master Svboda made us sit down and close our eyes.
“Focus on the blood in your veins,” she said, in a calm voice. “Focus on your breath. Fill your lungs, then exhale slowly. Clear your mind of all thoughts.”
I felt Mary stiffen beside me and I cracked my eyes. Her eyelids were moving, like she was seeing something. I closed my eyes and tried again. Every few minutes, I heard a gasp or a laugh. One girl even started crying. It seemed like everybody was accessing the memory, except me. Finally I gave up and stopped trying. I decided I was just going to wait it out and pretend I’d seen the memory too.
But then it hit me. It wasn’t just a memory. It was like being transported into someone else’s mind and body. I looked down and saw my feet gliding effortlessly across a dance floor. My partner was a tall man with glasses and wiry hair. And I loved him. I could feel it when I looked at his face, and he smiled at me. He spun us in a circle and then dipped me. I leaned back against his arms, confident that he wouldn’t let me go. When the music ended, he took my hand and pulled me towards the exit. The doors were open, allowing a cool breeze to caress the white curtains framing the doorway. We stepped out onto a wide balcony and my breath caught in my chest as I looked up. A large, white orb hung in the sky over the horizon, surrounded by small white dots in the sky. The moon, and stars, I realized. I’d seen pictures in books, or illustrations, but I’d never actually seen them. They were so beautiful, my chest swelled with gratitude. The man lifted my chin and kissed me. I kissed him back, losing myself in the emotion. Part of me whispered, this is what it feels like to kiss someone you loved. It filled my entire being with longing and desire and something else.
But then we were blasted apart by some invisible force. I tumbled to the ground, sliding across the floor. On the horizon, a thick column of smoke and gas was rising from the ground like some terrible sea monster. The building shifted and shook behind me, knocking over tables and sending part of the roof caving in. Screams pierced the air, and I crawled on my hands and knees, over the rubble, through the smoke, looking for my partner. When I finally found him, his face was covered in blood. I sobbed, shaking his body. Finally his eyes snapped open, but they were different. Hungry.
The memory vanished and I was back in the training room. Mary was shaking my shoulder, and I saw the other girls staring at me.
“Welcome back, Emily.” Master Svboda smiled.
I was too stunned to reply, my emotions swirled in my chest. It felt like I’d lost a limb. I’d loved someone, and had him taken from me in the space of a few minutes.
“That was the Before,” I said finally. “I saw the stars. Was it like that for everyone?”
“The memory is the same, but different people will react differently to it, or respond differently.”
So all the other girls had felt the same connection I had with the man in glasses? I felt jealousy rage up inside me, thinking about the other girls in his arms. But I knew it was foolish, stupid even. He wasn’t mine. I didn’t even know who he was.
“A blood memory experience is not enough to learn a skill,” Master Svboda continued, “but it will make it easier. Your body will feel more comfortable learning the dance now. Part of you will feel like you’ve learned the steps before.”
She broke us up into pairs again. This time, instead of fighting, we were supposed to hold onto each other and spin around the room, without getting dizzy.
“One, two three. ONE, two, three,” she called out after showing us the basic steps. My legs resisted the rhythm. I’d never been able to stay on beat. Finally, however, things clicked into place and I stopped stepping on Mary’s feet.
Master Svboda put on some music, and we practiced the simple steps for another hour, until we were all sick of the repetitive dance. Even Jessica had stopped pretending to enjoy herself.
“Dancing will teach you balance, poise and elegance. But more than that, it will teach you spatial awareness. The right move, at the right moment—being the first to react, the first to move in the right direction, understanding nonverbal cues—all of these things could save your life, or end someone else’s.”
We took turns leading and following, spinning around the room in a large circle. Then I saw Master Svboda reach for a pointed dagger. She stood directly in the path of the dancers, and we had to pivot and spin our partners away from the danger, without losing the beat or mixing up the steps.
I thought Claire was going to pick me up after class again, so I was surprised to see Penelope instead.
“I thought we could go out for coffee today, unless you have plans.”
“Go out for coffee?” I repeated. It was a foreign concept, and I was still a little stunned from the lingering memory and the feeling of loss.
I waved goodbye to the other girls, then followed Penelope down the stairs and into one of the neighboring courtyards. We cut through two na
rrow alleys, emerging into a wider courtyard lined with outdoor tables with white umbrellas. The ground was paved with wide slabs of flat concrete, like a road.
Penelope looked like someone from a fashion magazine from the Before. Crisp beige pants and a white blouse. I’d never actually seen anyone who looked like that. She was even wearing a pair of large white sunglasses that hid half her face.
It was brighter here than the colonies, I realized. Looking up, I squinted against the gray sky. One round patch of ash looked brighter than the rest.
“Is that the sun?” I asked, pointing upwards. “You can see the sun from here? And why can’t I hear the purification engines?” I asked.
“We don’t use those in the citadel,” she said, sitting at one of the tables. I joined her, feeling out of place with my workout uniform, but nobody seemed to mind my appearance.
“But how do you keep the ash out?”
“Giant fans, built into the ground. They blow hot air up and out. It’s newer technology than what was used in the compounds.”
A man with a white shirt and a black apron did a double-take when he saw us, then hurried over.
“It is my rare privilege to have such distinguished guests,” he said, bowing low.
“Cappuccino,” Penelope said.
“And for your guest?” the man asked.
“Um, coffee?” I said.
“Do you like chocolate?” Penelope asked. I nodded.
“Get her the mocha, with the whipped cream on top.”
The man smiled, bowed again and then backed away.
I noticed several of the other guests turning to look at us.
“Why are they staring?” I whispered.
“You’ll get used to it,” she said, leaning back to our chair. “Over twenty thousand people live in the citadel,” she said. “About one hundred elites live here full-time, others pass through. The wives are intermediaries—still human, but increased access to elixir makes us powerful. Plus our connection affords certain political connections. Some wives use their position to help the people or improve conditions in the city. Others are not as kind, and use their power for selfish reasons. After the wedding ceremony, you might have lots of free time. Maybe too much. You’ll have to decide what to do with it.”
“If I last that long,” I said. “I might fail the Trials and get sent back.”
“That rarely happens,” she said. “It’s not exactly a test you can fail, though your performance in the Trials may inform your elite’s opinion of you, which may influence his decision of whether to keep you. All you need to do is get him to like you. It’s our job to keep them interested.”
The coffee arrived. Mine was a tall glass mug, with rich dark chocolate, and a cookie stuck in the whipped cream. It was sweeter and richer than I expected; it tasted like melted candy.
“I could get used to this,” I said.
“One of the best perks of living in civilization,” Penelope said. “It’s hard to make good coffee without an espresso machine.”
“They have machines just to make coffee?” I asked, my eyes widening. I helped mom make coffee sometimes. You boiled water and let the coffee grounds soak. It didn’t seem complex enough to warrant a machine. I took another sip and closed my eyes, savoring the rich concoction. This wasn’t technology, this was culinary magic.
“Damien hasn’t seemed all that interested in me,” I said, picking up the conversation where we left off. “Not like that. I’m not even sure if he likes me.”
“Don’t be silly. He chose you, didn’t he?”
“There were extenuating circumstances.” I said.
“Has he fed on you yet?”
“No,” I said.
She frowned, and took a sip of her coffee.
“Maybe he’s just giving you space.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t want me.”
“The point of the choosing is so elites can willingly feed on just one voluntary person. It’s an intimate experience for both partners. It can be very pleasant, erotic even. But if elites go too long without feeding, they’ll become dangerous and violent. They won’t have enough control to stop when they need to, which means they can easily kill the donor.”
“But that was a long time ago, when the races were practically always at war. The protection goes both ways—an elite would feed without killing the donor; and the donor promised not to stake him at the first chance. In the citadel, nobody would be stupid enough to attack an elite, and there are thousands of humans in the citadel who would happily become the favorite companion of an elite for a short while, in exchange for money or extra privileges. Girls from the village are willing to be used and discarded, for sexual pleasure or blood, without any marriage or contract. Elite are free to take pleasure anywhere, and drink from anywhere—even after they’ve chosen. They even have blood lounges set up for that.”
“For some elites, choosing isn’t serious. They don’t respect their wives, and can be cruel—or they can ignore them altogether. What I have with Tobias, real trust and intimacy, it’s less common. I mean, how can it be, right? Two strangers decide to be with each other because of some ancient contract between our races?”
I felt like Penelope had just trampled my childhood dreams of chosen moving to the citadel of light and living happily ever after. Damien didn’t really need my blood. And it was an intimate experience. Maybe he already had someone he was sharing it with. Maybe he was too kind to see me tortured by Nigel, but didn’t want me in that way. I should have felt relieved, but I didn’t. I hated thinking of him with some other woman.
“Can you find your way back?” Penelope asked, finishing her coffee. “I’ve got some other errands to run before dinner.”
I nodded, hoping I wouldn’t get lost in the labyrinthine alleyways. Plus, it would be my first chance to explore on my own. I retraced my steps and successfully made it down the first two turns, and reached the other plaza closer to the building with the training facilities. I looked up and saw the room with the wide paneled glass walls. It was reflecting the view over the citadel walls, and the landscape. The setting sun’s pink and purple rays pushed through the dark layer of ash over the horizon, adding just a hint of color.
I was about to head upstairs, and then cut over the bridges back to my apartment, when a figure caught my eye. A bearded man, wearing some kind of snug dark suit and a knitted stocking cap with ear flaps. He looked familiar, and I realized he was the man I saw with Trevor. The one walking in the ash, just before the attack on the caravan. Time seemed to slow down as our eyes met. When he caught me staring at him, he frowned, then turned and ran around the corner.
Was he running away from me?
Why would anyone do that?
My feet were pounding pavement before I’d made the conscious decision to follow him.
Questions thrashed through my mind. Why was he in Algrave? He wasn’t a chosen, or an elite, so how did he get so much elixir? And what was he doing out in the woods, just before our caravan was attacked? I hated not knowing, and the fact that he’d both recognized me and run seemed extremely suspicious. He was guilty for sure, I just didn’t know of what.
We ran deeper into the city, flying past stalls and vendors. Some kind of pageant was being performed in one of the squares, and I almost lost him in the crowd watching the actors. We crossed an arched bridge over the main river that cut through the citadel, and into an area of the city I hadn’t been in before. There were less streetlamps here, and the shadows grew longer and darker. He was fast, for an older man. The distance between us increased, and my lungs were already burning. If not for excess of elixir in my blood, I probably would have given up a long time ago.
I followed him around a corner, but he’d vanished. The street ended at the outer perimeter wall of the city. A small doorway in the wall was flanked by four guards, and the iron gate was down. He couldn’t have gone through there. The street was mainly deserted, except for a handful of men standing outside the one building with
lights on. They were dressed in rough clothes, smoking cigarettes and clutching dark brown bottles.
The light was fading fast. I knew I should give up and go home, but instead I pushed forward past the men, ignoring the alcohol on their breath. Inside I found a wide room with a low ceiling and long wooden tables. It was a bar of some kind. Women were sitting on the men’s laps, tickling their chests and smiling. Laughter came from upstairs, along with moans that made me blush. What kind of place was this?
A girl in dark leather pants and a black corset greeted me first. Her eyes were lined with thick bands of coal, and her red lips matched the single red ribbon tucked into her bustline. She tugged on the ribbon suggestively, pulling it up just high enough to see the end was tied to a small vial of dark red liquid.
“Looking for a taste?” she smiled, but then she glanced at my hands. “Oh, it’s you.”
Now I knew why she looked familiar. She was the girl who’d laughed at my marks during the Presentation ceremony. This morning I hadn’t even known blood lounges existed, and now I was in one, facing the consort of my worst enemy.
11
“Sorry,” I said. “I was looking for a man.”
“We’ve got those here,” she smirked. “Though a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t have to pay for companionship.” Some of the men nearby heard her remark and turned to smile at me.
My face flushed bright red.
“Not like that,” I said. “There was a man with a beard. I followed him here—never mind.” I said.
She shrugged and went back behind the bar.
“Let me buy you a drink at least,” she said, returning with two mugs. Her dark curls bounced playfully as she walked.
“Welcome to the city.” She put one mug in my hand and clanked it together. I smelled the cup. It was some kind of dark ale. I took a sip and could taste the hops. She waved me to follow her, and we settled into a table in the corner. The room was overflowing with stuff from the Before, mostly toys and games, it looked like, but also objects and inventions I had no words to describe.
