“I think our chief has a thing for you,” Cherry says, her dark curls bouncing as we dance.
“What in the chief’s name gives you that idea?”
“She can’t take her eyes off you.”
I look past Cherry. At Aurora. Sure enough, the little vixen can’t take her eyes off me. I find the gesture all but flattering.
“She’s afraid I’ll escape.”
“Why would she fear that?” Cherry licks her cherry-colored lips. “Defenders are posted at every door to keep you from running away.” She taps my nose and winks. “You rebel.”
I offer a wicked grin. “You have no idea.” Very few people know of my ties to the Resurgence. I prefer to keep it that way, seeing as my popularity is at stake. “I’m not sure why Aurora even bothered letting me come.”
“Oh, I might have had something to do with it.”
I look at her again. “Really?”
She arches a sculpted brow. “Mm-hm. This ball was hosted as a means to collect donations for the less fortunate. Aurora confided in me to spread the word and get people to come. She promised to get me into the reporter scene if I encouraged everyone I knew to come to this event. I told her I would agree only if she allowed you to attend.” Cherry shrugs. “It took some convincing, but she finally agreed.”
“A charity event?” is all I can muster. Aurora is actually expecting Patricians to part with their possessions? Willingly? But the ballroom is packed out. There are more guests tonight than I’ve seen attend a ball in a long, long time. Either Cherry did an excellent job marketing this event, or the Patricians aren’t as stingy as I took them to be. As for Aurora—I would like to know what her ulterior motives are for collecting donations. Appearance, perhaps?
The music ends and I release Cherry, but she remains close, her eyes on mine. “Don’t forget this giant favor, Rain. I nearly lost my dignity by begging that homely girl to let you come.”
I grin. “Couldn’t live without me, could you?”
She shrugs. “I knew you couldn’t last one more day cooped up in a small room. A man like you has got to stretch and move and release some…” Her hand slides down my torso…lower and lower until I draw in a sharp breath. “Energy.”
I cringe and take a step back, but not before she smiles victoriously.
“Besides,” she says. “You needed a drink. Am I right? You wouldn’t have lasted one more day without an ounce of alcohol.”
I offer a brief nod and straighten my vest, still taken aback by her brazen boldness. Sure, I’m used to Cherry’s forward behavior. I often used it to my advantage to hide my cover. But things are different now. I have no cover. I’m kind of disgusted by her right now. And I miss Ember.
Holy Crawford, I miss Ember.
“Thanks, Cherry.” I tip my head. “I appreciate you speaking on my behalf like that.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She reaches her slender arm up and taps my nose again, her brown eyes sparkling. “A favor for a favor, my friend.” She winks. “Wait till you see my sleeping arrangements for you.” And she spins on her heels and walks away.
A new song comes on, and I lift my head in time to find Aurora sitting on her throne, laughing at something Walker says.
My heart rate spikes. Holy rot, she looks so much like Ember. I keep getting these glimpses, these memories of the Feast of St. Nick, when I took Ember across that dance floor. It was then that I started falling for her.
But Aurora…with her hair falling down her olive shoulders in perfect chestnut waves, her laughter echoing through the room, her rainbow eyes that are always smiling, always smiling, always smiling. An ache builds inside me and my eyes begin to burn, and I want. so. bad. to hold Ember in my arms again.
Aurora lifts her eyes to mine. Her smile fades, replaced with a look of concern, because she, no doubt, believes I’m thinking about escaping. Straightening, I swallow the lump that stubbornly fought its way into my throat and stride toward Aurora and Walker.
“Rain,” Aurora says with a careful nod of her head.
“Where am I sleeping tonight?”
She blinks several times. “In…your…room.”
I’m not sure if I should be relieved or infuriated. “Not with Cherry?”
Aurora releases a loud, unladylike laugh, then quickly smothers it with her hand. Walker bursts out laughing so loud, everyone in the ballroom seems to notice.
“Do you want to sleep with Cherry?” Walker asks.
I glance around, wish I could tell everyone to mind their own shoddy business, then lean in and mutter, “Of course not. But I don’t want to be locked up again.”
Aurora sighs. “Until I know you’re not going to run off, you have to be locked up. Unless you want two guards hovering over you while you sleep.”
I utter a curse.
“What’s wrong with the room you’re in? I’ll let you out again tomorrow.”
“I just don’t like being locked up like a shoddy dog.”
“My dogs aren’t locked up.” She rests her elbow on her chair and perches her chin on her fist, clearly enjoying herself just a bit too much.
I narrow my eyes. “Of course they’re not. You’re probably the type to let the flea-infested creatures sleep under the covers with you.”
“Don’t pretend like you’ve never let Julius on your bed,” Walker cuts in.
“Julius is a refined tiger.” I roll my eyes at Walker. “He doesn’t drool all over the sheets.” Although he did hog the bed.
“You will sleep in your room,” Aurora says, her smirk gone as she straightens. “If you prove you’re on our side, I may or may not make new sleeping arrangements for you.”
And I may or may not kill you in your sleep the moment I’m not locked up.
I force a smile. “Fine, chief.” I look at Walker and arch a brow, as if that would persuade him into speaking up for me, but he just smiles. He clearly enjoys watching me struggle under the rule of his niece. Resigned to my awful fate, I spin around and head straight toward the drinks. I’m going to need more than rum to get me through another night of imprisonment.
The dance wears on for hours. And hours. And hours. To the point that I’m actually almost ready to beg to go back to my room. I never liked parties. It was all show, a way to keep my disguise as a Resurgence spy. Everyone is related to a politician on some level in Frankfort. Someone’s sister or brother or mother or father works in congress. So the more people I danced with, the more gossip I would glean, and in that gossip was always a thread of something vital for the Resurgence. This is why Cherry was such a huge asset in the past.
But now the Resurgence is gone, Aurora is leader, and the only gossip is why did Titus let her take the reins so easily, where is Titus now, and whatever happened to that awkward Ember girl.
And every time Ember’s name comes up in a conversation, it’s all I can do to not walk away, walk out of the ballroom, out of Frankfort, out of Ky, and cross the river to Indy.
But. Of course. I wouldn’t make it past the ballroom doors.
Being a prisoner is possibly worse than begin a spy.
After another boring dance, I head over to the table and pick up a glass of wine. The party’s finally winding down. People are beginning to leave, the music is calm. Mcallister appears through the crowd, dressed in his red Defender uniform, his hat placed slightly skewed on his head. I can’t hide my sour expression.
“You look very…Defenderish,” I say. “Trying on your outfit for Titus's torture?”
He offers a half smile. “I guess you could say that.”
“You should just go ahead and kill him.”
“I don’t think Aurora will be pleased with that.”
“So? Make it look like an accident.”
“I think our chief is smart enough to know if it was an accident or not.”
“If you let Titus live, that conniving jackal is going to take over Ky again.”
“Y
es. I told Chief Aurora that. That’s why we’re torturing him. If we can get the information we need from him, she’ll no-doubt give the okay to kill him.”
So like James to play fair. “Do what you gotta do. The whole Resurgence is counting on you, Mcallister—now that Walker has let us down.”
“No pressure.” He sighs and straightens his jacket. “Anyway, I came here because Aurora wants us in the throne room.”
“Oh shoddy rot.” That’s the last thing I want to do. “What, does she want? For us all to bow down? Does she need verification that she’s chief?”
“She’s going to restore my Defenderhood.”
I almost choke on my drink. “Did you say Defenderhood?”
Mcallister nods.
“You’re—you’re actually going to be a Defender again? I thought you were happy to get out of that.”
“Well, yeah. When Titus was chief and I had to pretend to be brainless, I definitely wanted out.”
“But you’re totally okay with brainlessly serving Aurora?” I arch a brow. “I mean, once you’re a Defender, James, there’s a certain code you have to follow, brainless or not.”
He lifts a hand, clearly annoyed. “Okay. Rain? First, I was a Captain for three years, so I think I might know way more than you about the Code of Defenders. Second, I don’t think I will have to play brainless around Aurora, seeing as she wants change like we do.”
“That jackal has everyone fooled—”
“Third, I can’t legally go through with torturing Titus or any other Defender type activities unless I’m a Defender.”
“Why does anyone even have to know? Can’t we keep it between us?”
Mcallister nods. “We are keeping Titus’s torture secret from Ky. But if word gets out, the politicians should know a verified Defender did the work.” He sighs. “The sooner we deal with the hard-pressed issues like Titus, the sooner we can fix the bigger problems outside of Frankfort.”
We head out of the ballroom, down the hall to the throne room. I feel sick to my stomach as soon as we step through the arched doorway. A host of politicians, including my dad, are sitting on the right side of the room. Jonah, my mother, and a few others who support the cause of the Resurgence sit on the other side of the room. Aurora straightens in her throne when she sees us, but she doesn’t even spare me a glance. Her eyes are on Mcallister, and she gestures for him to approach the throne.
The entire room is cloaked in silence. Aurora sits erect in her throne, wearing Titus’s crown, which is slightly too large for her head, and holding her scepter in hand. But she looks every inch the chief, and she plays the part well. Does she know she has the power to do anything? Does she even understand that her power can flip this country on its head in a day? Has she been following Titus’s rules so long that she can’t even think for herself?
“James Mcallister.” Her voice echoes through the room, ringing with authority. It’s almost kind of scary seeing a psychopath like her in this position.
“Step forward, please,” she says.
Mcallister steps forward. He wears his uniform that’s been shoved in his bag for so long that it’s wrinkled beyond repair, and his boots are dusty, but he stands tall, and his confident steps are enough to make any rebel cower away. Mcallister might be one of my best friends, but he’s also the straightest shooter I know. I would never want to get on his bad side.
Mcallister stops at the foot of the chief’s throne, then bends on one knee and bows his head. Aurora steps down from her throne. “James Mcallister,” she says. “Do you agree to defend Ky within your means, no matter the risks, unless doing so goes against your honor?”
Against your honor? This is a new script. All new Defenders usually get brainwashed by an overseer, then answer to their captain. All Delta-blood captains come into this room where they’re brainwashed by Titus himself. Lower Defenders can be rewired to follow any Patricians’ directions. Captains and Mansion Defenders cannot be rewired, because they are brainwashed by Titus, and no one can override a Whitcomb order.
So, I don’t know what I expected coming here. Clearly Aurora knows Mcallister can’t exactly be brainwashed, so she would have to come up with some twisted lines that he would agree to, that would make him a traitor if he so much as questioned them. But this? Defend Ky within your means, no matter the risks… THAT’S what I expected. But… unless doing so goes against your honor. That’s a surprise. Because Titus cared nothing about honor. Neither his honor, nor that of his Patricians, but especially not that of his Defenders.
“I agree, Chief,” Mcallister says, his head still bowed.
I look at Aurora as she taps the scepter gently on his head.
“Then I restore you the title as Captain of Defenders,” she says. “Do you accept?”
“I accept.”
Absolutely no emotions are readable as she taps the scepter on one shoulder, then the other, then lifts it and takes a step back. “You may rise.”
Mcallister stands, chin held high, shoulders back, and he stares blankly ahead.
“Go,” Aurora says. “And defend your country.” She turns around and stiffly steps back up to her throne. I don’t know Aurora too well, but the Aurora I have come to know is completely different with an audience of politicians present. She looks as snobby as most Patricians, as careless as all the politicians, and as ruthless as Titus.
It’s terrifying.
And I don’t know, but I think I might have been right about her all along. The laid-back, sad girl she acts around Jonah and Mcallister is just that—an act. Can they seriously not see who she really is right now? Does this side of her not repulse them?
Mcallister bows and walks over to a table where the politicians congregate. Father slides a paper across the desk, and Mcallister signs it. Then he straightens and walks out of the room. Aurora stands and walks out behind him. Then the politicians stand and begin shuffling out.
Except Father, who strides toward me. My stomach drops. I glance around for an escape, but don’t find one before he’s standing in front of me.
“You’ve been released,” he says, his arms locked behind his back and his eyes seeming to scan me for bruises. “Perhaps the worst decision Chief Aurora could have made so far. And that’s saying a lot.”
Not sure what he means by that. Does he not love Aurora as much as he loved Titus? Well, of course he wouldn’t. She’s a woman, and father is a misogynist. It’s why his and Mother’s relationship never seemed to work out. It’s why Mother was never home—to avoid sexists like Father. I personally think Father was jealous that Mother had a position equal to his. Until he became a part of Congress, that is.
“Looks like you’re not completely free,” Father says, sparing a glance behind me at my Defenders. “You’re still under guard. Serves you right for hiding like a coward in those caverns, working for Neanderthals.”
Jonah Walker steps up beside me. “Your son,” he says, “was actually the bravest man I’ve ever met. He did more work for the Resurgence right here in Frankfort than any in our crew.”
Father’s nose scrunches. “I suppose in your crew he was the bravest. No surprise there.”
The tension here is intoxicating.
“Coward or not,” Mother’s voice cuts in from behind me as she joins the circle. “Rain was still able to pull the wool over your eyes for years.”
Father glares at Mother. “Don’t pretend like you had any idea he was working for rebels.”
I feel Mother’s arm creep around my shoulders, and I tense. Seriously. What is happening right now?
“Our little Rain-drop was able to slip by even me,” she says. “But I can’t say I was too disappointed.” She looks at me and grins, pulling me into the most awkward side-hug imaginable. “At sixteen, you were the best spy in the country, being able to slip beneath both your parents’ noses.”
“And you were even in the chief’s circle, Thomas,” Walker says to Father. “What doe
s that say about you and your dumbed-down crew of jokers?”
Father’s nostrils flare. His jaw clenches but he somehow keeps his composure. Something he never did for me as a child.
I lift a hand. “Don’t worry, Jonah. Father here is just pissed off cuz I lived and his favorite son didn’t.”
Father’s eyes swivel to mine, and now the veins are popping out in his neck. He shakes his head and opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
“Spare me the lies, Father. I know the truth. Forest was always the favorite. Always followed in your steps like a loyal dog.”
“And doing so got him into the chief’s inner circle.”
“Doing so made him as brainless as a Defender,” Jonah says. “It stopped him from questioning the government. Forest could have had a hand in making things better, but because of his unquestioning loyalty to the chief and you, he refused to open his eyes to reality, and so kept the government as corrupt as it was.”
“Our government was perfectly functional before you and your band of rebels stepped in and ruined it all.”
“You really believe that, Thomas?” Mother asks, her arm finally sliding off my shoulder.
Father looks at her, his eyes wide now. “If Ember never stepped in and tried to shake things up, we would still be functional.”
My heart begins pounding.
“That’s my niece you’re talking about,” Walker says. “And your chief’s sister.”
Father glares at Walker. “She was nothing but a lousy accident produced by an unstable bitc—”
I step forward and my fist collides with his cheekbone. He turns away, his hand on his cheek, and I lift my fist to throw another punch, but hands are on me, yanking my arms behind my back, and then I feel that cold shock band snapping around my wrist. The Defenders begin guiding me out of the room.
“Stop,” Father says. They pause, and Father walks up to me, the place where I punched him still red. “I love you, son. I do, despite what you might think. But if you continue to defend a deceased rebel and support a group of people whose sole purpose is to kill your friends and family so they can take all our food, then you deserve every minute of imprisonment. Shape up, son. Think about what you’re fighting for before your actions cause your death.” He nods at the Defenders and they continue out of the room, and all I can think about as we head toward my quarters is, who should I kill first? Father? Or Aurora?
white dawn (Black Tiger Series Book 3) Page 11
