Removing her eye from the arrangement—whose roses had white petals that were outlined in crimson red—she examined my face carefully, as if looking for any hint of deceit in my response. Apparently satisfied, her expression changed into one reminiscent of Annabelle—exuberant and wide- eyed. When she opened her mouth, her words almost gushed like Annabelle’s as well. “Have you heard anything about the Ballad of the Betrothed?”
Since I hadn’t even heard of the Betrothal Ball, I was surprised she asked if I’d heard of the Ballad. I shook my head.
“Once the Council reads the list of Betrothals, an orchestra immediately plays the Ballad, where all the newly announced couples dance with one another. No one else is allowed to dance—it’s practically considered a sacrilege,” she emphasized, her eyes growing large. “The dance is almost as sacred as the first night of the couple’s Union.”
I nodded my head, understanding the significance—the first night of their Union where their pale blue eyes were lost in a glowing sea of sapphire.
The dreaminess swirling in her eyes hardened, before they pointed in the direction of my bed. “There’s a gift for you from John over there,” she said, turning on her heel and heading to the door. “Again, John wanted you to feel welcome,” she reiterated, before she red-lined through the door, leaving behind her signature chill.
I saw a crimson-colored, velvet box, but I didn’t rush to it as most women would. From the shape, I knew it contained some kind of flashy jewel. I trudged over to my bed, ignoring the gift laying on my nightstand beside one of the dozens of rose arrangements. I took off my jeans and crawled into bed, no longer interested in the cozy pajamas.
The box screamed at me though—it wouldn’t stay silent—so I picked it up and threw it across the room with all my Immortal might, not even caring to see the sparkling contents within it. The wall opposite my bed stopped the flying box and it thudded to the floor, tossing the contents held within it over the marble.
More ice. I sighed and thumped my pillow, trying to make it mold around my head just right so the sparkling strand of diamonds lying across the room wouldn’t menace me all night. I longed for my fire, who was three doors down from me.
I felt the warmth of the rising sun on my face before I let my eyes to view it, letting it make its way into my soul and brighten my mood. My mood was perhaps a bit more impressionable today, given that Joseph would be coming for me tomorrow morning so I would finally be free of Townsend Manor.
While I’d begged, pleaded, and pouted my way to persuade William to go with me, he’d remained adamant that he would not. Not if we were to make it look like a clean case of a young Immortal (me) rejecting the newly acquired Immortal life and escaping from the strict confines of all its codes—a fairly believable and common occurrence, according to him.
If we disappeared at the same time, John’s suspicions would arise, and William knew John would eventually put together the pieces and make the connections. Both Patrick and William assured me John would never stop hunting for the two of us—that our betrayal and his wounded pride would serve as endless fuel to his hunt, and we would never find that small measure of peace two people should be able to expect.
Their conviction and assurances on this had satiated me enough so as to settle (again) for William remaining behind for one month. During this time, he could come up with some excuse so as to be transferred to another location, before finding his way back to me, where I would wait for him in Pacific City with his family.
The thought of one long month with his family was marginally terrifying, but the knowledge I wouldn’t once see his face or hear his voice, was the most horrendous kind of hell I could imagine. The past five days had been a private kind of torture for me having him so close, but never having a private moment for even the quickest of embraces . . . what would another month feel like?
Hell, I told myself again—an intolerable hell, but one I’d have to find a way to endure.
Patrick would be staying indefinitely, he’d decided. He and William had gained such valuable information, and there was still so much more to be uncovered, that he felt strongly about staying with the mission. He’d continue to visit the family on the rare occasion he could sneak away.
I was actually sad when he told William and me he’d be staying behind. Irritating as he could be, I’d come to genuinely enjoy his company.
The warm fingers of sunshine continued to tickle my cheek, and I allowed my eyes to open and gaze at the yellow-tinged brightness coming through the open balcony doors. It was Saturday morning, the day of the much anticipated Betrothal Ball.
William had been uptight about the whole affair and grimaced whenever he heard anyone mention it; which had been a regular affair the entire week with all the preparation going into it. I didn’t understand why he was so ill at ease with the whole event; it didn’t sound that terrible to me when Stella had described it. A bunch of Immortals dressed in their finest, enjoying food, drink, music and dancing.
What was so harmful with that? I might even get to dance with William tonight. I instantly perked up at the thought. Since my last official day in class with William had been yesterday, we should both be able to excuse one tiny dance together as being a farewell exchange from a professor to his student. William and I would have our dance tonight—I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
John was under the impression he would be taking over my studies on Monday morning. I’d told him how much I was looking forward to it yesterday when he’d interrupted our class in the library—little did he know I would be gone tomorrow morning. John would have a new woman to distract his attention with after tonight, anyways—according to Stella—once the Council rewarded him by granting him a Betrothal . . .
With the impact of a wrecking ball, it hit me—I at last understood why William had been so impossibly against anything related to the Ball. He was one of the names on the Council’s list tonight that would be announced. A mate selected for him—a Union to plan.
I shot up in bed. My stomach was already knotting together in pretzels. He’d been with John’s Alliance for over ten years now, a model Immortal, and a very gifted one too. The Council would want to reward him. The knots in my stomach churned and pulled tighter.
I stood up and stumbled to the open balcony. I sucked in several deep breaths, trying to quiet the voices in my head that kept taunting me, screaming that William would be Betrothed to another tonight, would dance the first dance of the Betrothed, and would be expected to Unite with this woman one day in the near future. I knew that him putting in for a transfer, and simply getting lost in the mix, would not be so easily dismissed if he was Betrothed to another.
Who did the Council have planned for him—was she beautiful, would he know her, and, of course, the most terrifying question of all . . . would he grow to love her? My mind was plummeting into too many dark questions and scenarios. I needed more than just the fresh air on my balcony to calm my spirit. I needed to get out of this place whose brilliant walls were insulated with evil.
I rushed into the closet and came back out a half minute later, prepared with running shoes and loose clothing for however long and far I needed to run to quiet my mind. I shoved through my bedroom door and ran down the stairs. I felt the beginnings of hysterics emerge the moment my hand rested over the handle of the Manor’s front door. I heaved it open, lunged down the steps, and was in a full sprint two strides into my run; silencing the hysterics before they could take full effect.
I focused all my concentration on the space ahead of me and the pounding feet beneath me. I concentrated on the cool morning air I drew into my lungs and the ever present dampness that hung in the Oregon atmosphere dewing across my legs. I’d been a decent runner as a Mortal, but my new speed exhilarated me, and the might of my fears served as the nitrous to my body’s engine, propelling me at otherworldly speeds across the meandering hills.
A black streak came into my peripheral vision, and when I turned my head to investigate, I saw someone else running a way’s off. The speed it possessed identified it as an Immortal, and as it grew closer, the silver-blond hair and confident swagger (even in a run) identified who it was.
“Hey-a, Bryn,” he called out, slowing to a jog in front of me.
I came to an abrupt stop. “Good morning, Patrick. What are you doing out here?” His three-piece suit was telling he was not out on an early morning run like I was.
“Following you,” he replied, as if the answer should have been obvious. “William asked me to get some information to you regarding you two’s little escape plan, and when I saw you exit the Manor this morning with all engines burning”—he smiled, looking amused—“I figured this would be the perfect time.”
“You were really flying. If I knew how long it would take to catch you, I would have changed into more appropriate footwear.” He lifted one foot up to display the clumps of mud spackling his expensive looking, black wing-tips. “Why the need for such a raging sprint at this unholy hour?”
My gut reaction was to tell Patrick to mind his own business—to deliver his message and get packing so as to leave me alone with my wallowing. Then I looked into his face, and saw the similar strong jaw-line and the same shaped eyes of William’s, and my response flowed easily. “It finally hit me why William’s been so upset about the event tonight.” I couldn’t make my mouth form around the three syllable word beginning with the second letter of the alphabet—the very thing threatening to take away my every meaning in life.
Patrick shot me an unimpressed look and raised one brow. “You did, huh? Wow, you must have been in agony this whole week racking your brain as to why my overanxious brother would be so uneasy about the . . . event,” he said, his sarcasm leaking through his teeth.
“Why wouldn’t one of you tell me William is going to be on the Council’s list of Betrothals tonight?” I cried accusingly at him. “Did you think it would somehow be easier for me to find out tonight once they announce who William’s expected to be United with?” I didn’t worry about hiding the anger and rancor in my voice. I knew Patrick could take it.
For one moment, Patrick’s eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled in confusion, and then he burst into full fits of laughter. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the echoes from his laughter could have been heard back at the Manor. I fumed while he struggled to recompose himself.
“You’re funny, Bryn, you know that?” He said, once he’d regained a decorum of composure.
I didn’t respond.
“That’s why you’re so upset? Because you think William’s name is going to be on that list tonight?” His eyes stared at me incredulously, his laughter coming to an end.
“Yes,” I muttered. “Why wouldn’t that give me reason for worry?” I tried to match the same tone and expression he used with me whenever he thought something should be so obvious.
“Trust me, that’s not the reason he’s worried about tonight . . . and his name is certainly not one on the list,” he assured, chuckling to himself again.