A small smile cut his lips and he gave her a look of near admiration, which was a bit startling. “I may be able to arrange that. It pleases me to see you take such an interest in healing this city.”
Carrington forced a smile and bobbed her head. Whatever he needed to think so she could get to Arianna was fine by her.
Arianna wasn’t being held in a cell, as most prisoners would be. Being the president’s daughter had its benefits even after being accused of high crimes against the state. She was being held under lock and key inside a guest room within the president’s second home, which was still nearly a castle. The house was heavily guarded, with CityWatch members at every entrance and scattered around the grounds.
It had taken Isaac only a few hours to set up the meeting, and he rode with Carrington and walked her in through the front door. A couple of CityWatch soldiers occupying the front room of the house stood at attention when Isaac entered. He nodded for them to resume their previous positions and told Carrington he would wait for her there.
A guard led her back into the house and down a long hallway that had five doors running along each side. At the end of the corridor, armed guards flanked a final door. Carrington thanked the guard granting her entrance.
The room was large and filled with light, breathy colors—blues and pinks, a dash of yellow. Large bay windows invited the sun to dance across the entire floor. It was a bedroom—probably the master, judging from its size. Carrington could see guards outside manning the windows and couldn’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic.
Arianna was sitting in a wooden chair by a large fireplace that was not in use. Her eyes didn’t turn toward Carrington as she entered the room; they stayed forward, peering out the window. Carrington heard the door shut behind her with a soft click and then it was just the two of them.
Carrington stood awkwardly for a moment and then inched toward the motionless girl. Her shoes shuffled through the fluffy carpet.
When Carrington was a few feet from the fireplace, Arianna turned and smiled. Carrington wasn’t sure what she had thought she would find, but the graceful smile beaming at her under brightly lit green eyes was completely unexpected. Arianna looked as if she’d just woken from the most peaceful sleep—her skin fresh, her body folded perfectly in the chair, a sense of comfort and rest flowing off her shoulders like silk.
There was no sign of worry or fear in a single line of the girl’s face. There was only peace. Carrington thought her mouth might be gaping open, and when a soft chuckle fell from Arianna’s lips, she knew that her expression must reveal how shocked she felt.
“I was hoping to get the chance to see you again,” Arianna said. She motioned to a chair beside her and Carrington took her direction.
“The house is beautiful,” Carrington said. It was the kind of thing a person said when they were avoiding talking about the obvious elephant sucking up all the air in the room.
“Everything is beautiful when you see it properly,” Arianna said.
Clearly she didn’t care about the elephant.
“Did they send you?” she asked.
Carrington shook her head. “No. I asked to come. I think they are hoping you will talk to me, though.”
“My father, the Authority Council . . . they’re hoping I will say that I had a momentary lapse in judgment and reaffirm my allegiance to their laws and their religion.”
“I’m not sure you have any other choice.”
Arianna turned toward Carrington and sadness filled her eyes. “Do you really believe you have no choice?”
“I’m afraid of what will happen to you if you don’t.”
“Fear is an illusion, Carrington. What’s the worst they can do—kill me?”
“Arianna—you can’t honestly tell me you aren’t afraid of death?”
Arianna dropped her gaze to her lap and drew in a long, deep breath. She closed her eyes and let the room remain still until a small smile touched the corner of her mouth and she lifted her head toward Carrington.
“No, I can’t say I don’t feel fear, but that’s because life is a series of forgetting and remembering. Only when I forget who I am does the fear invade. I just have to remember.”
Carrington felt irritated by the girl’s stubbornness. Didn’t Arianna know that she could still save herself, that she just needed to put aside her silly, childish rebellion and see the world for what it was? “How can you be so careless with your own well-being?” she asked.
Arianna chuckled again and it made Carrington’s irritation flare to anger.
“This is all a game, Carrington. Don’t you see how trapped in lies they have you? Do you honestly believe that this is the life you were created to live? That this is the way your true Father intended for you to live? That your choices are invalid or that your worth is measurable?” Arianna turned her entire body so she was facing Carrington and reached out to lay her hand on Carrington’s knee. “I know you are battling questions. I did as well. I also know you hear the Father’s voice inside you, though you’ve worked hard to silence it. Stop fighting it and listen.”
Carrington felt herself losing control of the conversation and her own strong hold on her feelings. She sensed the cage containing the voices of her doubt beginning to crack open. Arianna’s hand on her knee was like fire spreading up into her gut and awakening her confusion.
“There can be peace and rest. Misery doesn’t have to rule your life. Aaron led me to the Father and freed me; let him lead you.”
Carrington moved her knee and slammed the cage door, silencing the voices inside. She had come here to beg Arianna to save herself—to repent—because she couldn’t stand to think of another girl trapped in isolation, because Larkin could hardly look at anyone since she’d been released, because Helms was dead, because Remko was cold, because Carrington feared she was already going to face a life of misery and Arianna shouldn’t have to as well. She knew she couldn’t spend any more time daydreaming of love or peace or a life that wasn’t the one right before her.
“Please, Arianna, listen to me—”
“I will not serve this Authority; I will not be ruled by fear.” Fire danced behind Arianna’s eyes and Carrington felt desperate to protect her.
“Listen to yourself. This is how the world works; you cannot change it!”
“I’ve already changed it. Why do you think they are so afraid of people like me? Of Aaron? Because we can change things.”
Arianna was losing her mind. The Authority could break her like a twig and snuff her out like a single flame, yet she thought they were afraid of her. Aaron was a rogue teacher whose life could easily be taken. They were weak and the Authority held all the power. Maybe Arianna couldn’t be saved.
“I am not afraid,” Arianna said.
“You should be.”
“To fear is to suffer. Do you want me to suffer?”
“No—I want to save you from suffering. That is why I am here!”
Arianna smiled. “I have already been saved.”
It was pointless. She wasn’t going to budge. She was trapped in her own delusion and couldn’t be freed. Carrington wanted to cry but was tired of tears. She was tired of hurting. Maybe it was better just to shut it all off.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you came for,” Arianna said.
Carrington nodded and stood. “I should go.”
Arianna stood as well. The two girls’ eyes connected and Carrington wished she could pull hers away, but Arianna held her there.
“I pray you don’t remain trapped forever.”
A shudder shimmied down Carrington’s back and she yanked her eyes away at last. She touched Arianna’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before scurrying toward the exit.
26
The door shut behind Carrington like a weight. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to crumple to the floor or escape out into the open air and run until she was lost in the fields alone. She ached to go back in and force Arianna to see reality or el
se take her from this place and hide her away. Instead, she had to face Isaac with nothing to report that would help Arianna’s cause. She had failed.
The wooden floor clicked beneath her shoes as she moved down the hall toward the front room. Isaac sat stiffly in the corner, his eyes coming up to meet hers.
“You are through?” Isaac said.
She nodded and the two headed out to the CityWatch vehicle waiting to transport them back to Isaac’s home. The ride was quiet. Isaac did not inquire about her time with Arianna and Carrington didn’t volunteer anything. With each passing moment dreadful thoughts of the consequences Arianna was going to face filled Carrington’s imagination. The air around her started to feel stagnant. Her face flushed and sweat gathered in droplets on her forehead.
Carrington tried to find some way to tether herself to the composure she knew was expected of her. She reminded herself that Arianna had placed herself in this situation, that there had been no reasoning with the girl. She tried to console herself with the possibility that the daughter of the president might not suffer such severe consequences . . . or maybe that would make it worse. Regardless of the mental circles Carrington ran, the agony filling her chest didn’t ease.
She shifted but couldn’t get comfortable, her legs sticking to the seat from sweat.
“Everything okay?” Isaac asked.
“Yes, fine.”
“Really? You don’t look well. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
Carrington nodded, but she felt Isaac’s eyes stay with her.
“I understand you may not trust me yet, but I do wish you felt as though you could confide in me.”
Isaac looked away from her, and she risked a glance at him. “I just . . . I fear my worry is getting the best of me.”
Isaac turned to face her again. “So I take it Arianna was as stubborn with you as she has been with us.”
Carrington didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
“As I said, Arianna has always possessed a rebellious spirit. I am not surprised this is where we have ended up.”
“She is so young still . . .”
“She is old enough to sin; therefore she is old enough to suffer the consequences.”
Isaac’s voice was cold and Carrington knew she shouldn’t push, but her desperation to save Arianna was quickly growing beyond her ability to control it. “If she were to repent and restate her loyalty to the Authority . . .”
“I think the time for that has passed.”
“Surely all sinners can be saved.”
Isaac’s eyes grew dark with anger and Carrington began to tremble.
“No, they cannot,” Isaac said. “This conversation is over.”
Carrington bit her lip to keep anything further from spilling out as the driver pulled up outside Isaac’s home. The two stepped out of the vehicle and made their way back to the house. Isaac did not offer her his hand as he usually did.
It was dark inside, only a couple of lamps creating pockets of light here and there. Isaac motioned for a young man to get some tea while they waited for dinner, then moved into the living room. Carrington followed and continued to stand, not wanting to sit before Isaac did. He stood like stone in the middle of the great room, turned away from her, lost in thought.
She wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe easing into conversation would shake him from his brooding. “Will Arianna have a trial?”
“Yes,” he said without turning toward her. “She will face the Council tomorrow morning.”
She heard his tone grow sharper with each word. The ground she was walking was unstable and could at any moment collapse beneath her, but she pressed anyway, hoping to appeal to any goodness Isaac possessed. “I will hope for mercy until then.”
“I assure you your hope will be in vain.”
“Surely the Authority will see—”
“Enough!” Isaac spun around and threw the back of his hand across Carrington’s face. Her head snapped to the side and her body followed, the impact nearly strong enough to send her to her knees. Hundreds of pinpoints spread across her cheek. Shock clouded her vision for a moment, but reality quickly settled in and tears sprang to her eyes.
“You do not command what the Authority will see. I command that! I will not show mercy!” He grabbed her arm and yanked her to him. His hot breath invaded her skin and stung her eyes. “Is that clear?” he spewed, spit landing on her cheek.
Bafflement made her lips numb and she struggled to remember how to use them.
“I said, is that clear?”
She quivered at his touch and nodded. “Yes.”
He held her tightly for another moment and Carrington could hardly breathe through her fear. She half expected him to sink his teeth into the side of her neck like a villainous monster and rip her flesh from her body, but he released his hold and she stumbled backward.
Her instincts told her to run but she knew better and just stood on quaking legs, her face still throbbing from the blow. He audibly sucked in air through his nose and ran his palm across his hair, flattening it.
“I think it’s better if we don’t enjoy dinner together tonight. I will make sure someone comes to see you home safely.” He took a single step toward her and her entire being tensed. He peered sternly into her eyes. “I hope all discussion between us of Arianna is put to rest.” She nodded and he gave her face a tender pat before turning to leave.
27
Carrington was still trembling when she stepped out of the CityWatch vehicle and onto her front lawn. After Isaac left her she had remained frozen in place for several long minutes before seeking refuge in a small hallway bathroom to examine herself. Her face was pale except for a long purpling mark that ran the length of her right cheekbone. Her eyes were bloodshot, her mouth quivering. She’d splashed water on her face and tried to appear as normal as possible when her ride arrived, but she knew there was no hiding what Isaac had done.
She walked up to her front door and let herself in. She heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen and knew the rest of her family was sitting down to dinner. Her brother’s sweet laughter fluttered across the room. She wanted to join them, but she couldn’t let Warren see her like this.
She quietly moved to the lone staircase and took the stairs quickly but as silently as possible. She knew her efforts were in vain when she heard the boy squeal her name as he raced toward her.
“I can’t play now, Warren; I’m not feeling well,” she said, moving into her room and shutting the door.
A few seconds later a tiny knock sounded at her door and she pushed the lock into place.
“Carrington?” Warren said. “What are you sick with?”
Fear. Hopelessness. Pain. “I don’t know, but I don’t want you to get it, okay?”
“Will you be sick tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll try not to be.”
“I’ll get Momma. She always helps me get better when I’m sick.”
Before she could object she heard his feet scamper away. Carrington lay across her bed and waited for her mother’s arrival.
It happened only minutes later. Carrington let the woman in. When her mother’s eyes landed on the mark marring her daughter’s cheek, concern filled her expression. She said nothing, knowing nothing could be said, but left to return with a cold compress and something for the ache. She gave Carrington an apologetic glance; Carrington knew she wanted to ask what had happened but wouldn’t.
Her father’s face appeared in the doorway lit with concern that quickly turned to anger as he also saw the mark on his daughter’s face. He pushed past his wife into the room and nearly made it to the bed before Carrington raised her hand for him to stop.
“I’m fine; please, I just want to be alone,” she said. She could feel her father’s anger across the space between them. “Please, Father, it was my own fault. It won’t happen again.”
He stood before her for a long second, his ragged breath like a heated bull preparing to charge.
>
“He cannot get away with this,” her father hissed.
“Come, dear, leave her be,” her mother said.
A typical reaction, Carrington thought, turning away. Better not to ask questions even in the face of clear trouble. Just sweep it under the rug.
“Come,” her mother said again, and Carrington heard both of her parents shuffle out of the room.
“Is she dying?” Warren asked, his voice floating through Carrington’s closed door.
“Of course not,” her mother replied. “Where do you come up with these things?”
Warren launched into a story he had heard from another boy on the street as her family moved away from the door and back down the stairs. Carrington slipped off her shoes, downed the pills her mother had given her, and climbed into bed fully dressed. She laid the cold pack on her cheek and felt warm streams draw lines down her face.
Exhaustion caught up to her quickly and with the lights still on, ice pressed against her skin, and tears dripping over her lips, she fell fast asleep.
A noise startled Carrington awake. Her head was fuzzy and a stinging ache pounded through her shoulder. She reached over to rub her upper arm and found that the spot was cold and damp. She pulled herself up into a sitting position, and the frozen compress her mother had brought her, now a sweating pack of icy water, dropped to her lap.
The noise came again against her window, small and sharp. A bird was pecking away in the darkness but not with a continual tap, which was odd. The room was dark; the sky outside was dark. The house was still. How weird that a bird would be bothering her window at this hour.
Carrington pulled her legs free of the blanket and planted her feet on the floor. A chill rumbled up her legs. The damp shirt hanging on her shoulders didn’t help. She should change, she thought, but not until after she dealt with that pesky bird. She moved to her window, released the latch, and yanked the bottom panel open.
The Choosing Page 20
