Until Midnight: A Dystopian Fairy Tale (The Crimson Fold Book 1) Page 9

  Growling in frustration, I pushed through the crowd not worried about who I was offending. Until one person grabbed me.

  “Hey!” I tried to jerk away but when I saw who it was, stopped. “Sorry, Marsha. I didn’t mean to shove you like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, the dimples in his cheeks showing through. “Honestly, I’m just glad to see you are okay. You took off pretty fast last night.”

  “Yeah, I was a bit freaked out.” I flushed, my eyes going to the ground.

  “We all were.” Marsha placed his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I can’t tell you how relieved I was to find your name on the scoreboard this morning. I thought for sure you weren’t going to come.”

  “It’s harder than that to get rid of me.” My eyes caught a movement to my right and my face closed down.

  Zara.

  For once her sponsor had put her in something more girly and less evil incarnate. The pink frills didn’t match the mixture of emotion on her face when she saw me. First surprise and then confusion, and finally rage.

  I waved with an over-exaggerated smile causing her to huff and stomp away. When I turned around laughing to myself, I came face to face with a wide-eyed Marsha.

  Laughter cut off mid-laugh, I cleared my throat and ran a hand over the back of my neck. “Are you thirsty? I’m really thirsty. I think I’m going to get a drink. Excuse me.”

  When I tried to sidestep him, his hand shot out faster than I expected. Hand clasped in his he drew me closer, his voice going low. “What was that all about?”

  My eyes darted around the room to the remaining guests and members of the Fold. Most of them hardly noticed our display, but a few people were starting to look our way. I tried to withdraw my hand slowly but he held fast.

  “It’s complicated,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “Then explain it to me,” he countered and then his eyes went to the dance floor. “Better yet, dance with me.”

  Before I could decline, he led me through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Thankfully, they were playing a slow song or I’d have been completely lost. Even so, I wouldn’t have been either way because Marsha seemed to be an expert dancer.

  “You’re good at this,” I commented, holding onto his broad shoulders as he led me around the floor. “Where did a butcher boy learn to dance?”

  Marsha smiled and threw his head back laughing. “We’re not in the Glade, Clara. Everyone learns to dance in school.”

  “Not me,” I muttered staring down at our feet. “We didn’t have time to learn such things, too busy trying to stay alive.”

  My words caused Marsha to go silent. I peeked up at him to see him staring over my head, a closed-off look on his face. We went through the motions of the song for a moment before he finally spoke again.

  “I understand things are different where you are from but you can’t hold it against me for being born where I was. I had as much choice as you did.” His eyes locked with mine, showing me the first sign of anger I’d ever seen in him.

  “I’m sorry.” I stared at his left shoulder not able to meet his eyes anymore. “I’ve been angry for so long it’s just so easy to take it out on anyone not from the Glade. Which seems to be everyone now.”

  “And what of Zara? Is she the target for your anger?”

  My head jerked up at the mention of Zara and my gaze narrowed. “No, that’s something completely different.”

  “You know, Narq thinks she was the one who poisoned that girl last night. What do you think?” he asked, but before I could answer the music stopped. We parted slightly and clapped for the band and then another song started. One with more an off-beat which meant I was out of my depth.

  I tried to exit the dance floor but Marsha caught my hand once more, bringing me back to him. I clutched onto him as he swung us around the floor in a happy jig and by the end of it I was laughing and for the first time since I moved to the Inner Circle felt a semblance of happiness.

  “See,” Marsha said slightly out of breath. “Not everything has to be life or death. You can just have fun dancing with no consequences.”

  Just then I felt eyes on me. I glanced around the room searching for the culprit behind the feeling. Then a hand tapped on my shoulder and I froze.

  Marsha stilled against me and I knew before I turned who it would be.

  “May I cut in?” Patrick’s asked, his voice cool. It might have been a question but the tone he used left no room for declining. Which Marsha didn’t even try. He gave me a slightly worried look before stepping away from me.

  “Of course,” he said with a small bow. “That’s if it’s okay with Clara.”

  I could have kissed him in that moment but knew I couldn’t have told Patrick no. I had to make friends. What better way to make friends than an intimate dance, right?

  “It’s fine,” I said, giving Marsha a reassuring smile before turning to Patrick. “I’d be happy to dance with the leader of our great country.”

  Patrick’s lip turned up slightly but he didn’t call my bluff. Placing one hand on my hip and the other in my hand he drew me to him. The dark color of his suit only offset the paleness of his eyes and hair, the contrast something otherworldly.

  “How are you enjoying yourself, Clarabelle?” he asked, his eyes alight with mirth. “Staying out of trouble I would hope?”

  “Not as much as I would like,” I countered. Taking a second to glance around the room I realized all eyes—as well as cameras—were on us. How the hell would I make friends if I couldn’t get a moment of peace?

  “I heard about what happened last night,” he commented after a moment.

  “Yeah,” I leaned back to meet his gaze, and before I could help it I snapped, “And, where were you, our fearless leader?”

  Patrick didn’t get angry at my accusation. Instead he sighed. “Unfortunately, I was called away. A fearless leader’s work is never done, I’m afraid.” He smiled slightly, making the skin around his eyes crinkle.

  “Well, if you are going to throw a party you should be at it.”

  He chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Why? Did you miss me?”

  “Hardly,” I scoffed, turning my eyes away from me. “Can’t miss someone I don’t know.”

  “Then do.” My gaze shot back to his at his words, my brow scrunching up. “Get to know me that is. It’s no secret, I have my eyes set on your as my convert but I wouldn’t want you to come to me without really getting to know me.”

  “Why?” I asked suspicion in my voice. “You could order me to be your convert and I wouldn’t be able to say no. Why do you care if I come willingly?”

  Patrick leaned in close, “Now would a friend do that?”

  His words startled me enough to let him go and take a step back. Asher. It had to be. Were he and the leader of all of Alban in on this together?

  Before I could ask any of the questions swirling around in my head, a sharp cry caught my ears. No one else seemed to notice—their ears full of the music, distracted and having a good time—but I did.

  Without a word, I turned from Patrick and toward the sound. Several more sharp cries and then a whimper led me to the balcony. At the edge, hidden in the dark stood three figures, while a fourth lay on the ground, likely the one who had cried out.

  “You are nothing,” Zara snarled and then she kicked the figure on the ground. Not thinking of my actions, I rushed over to the three and tackled Zara to the ground.

  We struggled for dominance for a moment, turning over and over on the balcony floor. Her sharp nails scratched at my face and pain blossomed as I grabbed at her short hair. She howled and jabbed me in the side. I let go to defend myself from her hits. She used my distraction to flip us over so she sat on top of me.

  “Stupid dirty peasant,” she screamed in my face as her fists came down on the arms I had braced in front of me. “You shouldn’t be here. Why didn’t you just leave when you had the chance?”

  “Because I’m
not a coward,” I snapped back which made her pause in her assault long enough for me to get one good shot in. Blood spewed from her nose as she fell back. Shoving at her, I knocked her completely off me and crawled to my feet.

  Her minions stood watching from the sidelines, not even moving an inch to help their leader. Behind them lay a groaning Violet, her face bloodied and bruised. I rushed to her side, only barely noticing that we had an audience.

  “Violet,” I touched her gently, afraid to hurt her any more than she already was. “Can you hear me?”

  Violet’s gem-colored eyes peeked open and she tried to sit up. But she cried out, her hand going to her side. I searched for whatever was hurting her but couldn’t find a wound, or even any blood.

  “She probably broke a rib,” Patrick’s voice said from behind me. “We’ll need to get her to the infirmary quickly.”

  I turned to see him and a few others hovering in the doorway to the balcony, and thankfully also blocking the cameras from seeing this.

  Kneeling by my side, he reached beneath her and slowly lifted her into his arms. I watched in awe as the leader of all of Alban did something he could have commanded another to do. Maybe I’d been wrong about him? Or maybe it was all an act to gain my trust?

  I rose to my feet and followed him, not trusting what they would do with her. Before we could reenter the party, Zara cried out, “What about me? You can’t just leave me here. Look what that scum did to me!”

  Patrick paused but didn’t even look back at Zara. Instead, he turned to one of the fold members and murmured something I couldn’t hear. The man nodded and then gestured to three others who closed in on Zara as she shouted and called me all manners of names.

  What happened to her next I wouldn’t know until morning. The only thing on my mind was Violet and this mysterious leader who I had hated from birth, but who I now find myself more intrigued by than anything in my life. Had this been what Asher had meant? Would befriending Patrick Blordril be the answers to all my prayers?

  Only time would tell.

  Chapter 14

  I tried to follow Patrick to the infirmary but one of the other members—a man with black hair and odd reddish-brown eyes—stopped me.

  “We will take it from here,” he told me, his hands folded over in front of him, a no-nonsense look on his face.

  “But she’s my friend,” I insisted.

  The man frowned and then nodded toward my face. “Maybe you should worry more about yourself than your friend. It would be a pity if you scarred.” The way he commented on my scarring was odd. He hadn’t said it in a sarcastic manner, the way most would have. He seemed genuinely concerned I would ruin my face. Guess even the Crimson Fold cared about looks.

  The reminder of the scratch on my face made me wince. I reached up to touch the swollen, tender skin, and it came back slightly bloodied. I sighed in defeat. “Where do I go?”

  He gestured toward another part of the room where a man and woman sat filling out paperwork. “You can have one of the medics check you out.”

  One of medics probably heard him and rose to come toward me. He gestured for me to take a seat, his expression bored as though he saw situations like this all the time. His name-tag read ‘Tomas’ while his ID photo was one of equal disinterest.

  He worked in silence, which was fine with me as I tried to listen to what was happening with Violet. They spoke in low murmurs, too soft for me to make out.

  “Stay still,” Tomas said when I leaned toward the curtained-off area.

  I frowned and tried to obey as he cleaned off my scratches and placed some cool cream on them. Then he bandaged me up and stepped back. He didn’t tell me to leave, just turned on his heel and went back to his desk.

  “Uh...” I sat on the table not sure if I should stay or go. When Tomas didn’t turn around, and instead just stared down at his paperwork scribbling occasionally, I felt it safe to leave.

  Sliding off the seat, I started toward Violet’s bed but when I came close the same black-haired Fold member came into view. He shot me a warning look and I changed my destination to the door. Giving one more concerned glance toward Violet, I headed out of the infirmary and started the walk back to my room.

  No one waited for me at my room and I stripped my clothes and climbed into bed. I lay there for a few moments before I remembered the makeup on my face and I got up and went to the bathroom to scrub it off.

  Freshly scrubbed and more tired than I had ever been working a full day in the fields, I crawled under the covers. My mind whirled, today’s events making my head hurt. Zara’s attack hadn’t been secret this time. Surely, she will be punished or better yet sent home, mind wiped and tail between her legs.

  My lips curled up at the thought. At least something good had come out of the scratches on my face. I only hoped Violet would be all right. Thinking of Violet made my smile to drop. I didn’t understand why they wouldn’t let me see her. It’s not like I hadn’t been there when she’d gotten hurt. Maybe they thought blood would make me sick? Or worse yet, they could be wiping her memory—however they did that—so she couldn’t tell everyone about it. Which brought up another point: would they send her home? It was hardly fair to punish her for something that had been done to her but it wouldn’t be the first time someone blamed the victim.

  The thoughts kept me up well into the night. It wasn’t until the morning light began to filter through the curtains did I finally fall asleep. Then—what felt like seconds later—someone banged on my bedroom door.

  Groaning, I slid off the bed and grabbed the robe left for me off the back of a chair. I wrapped it around myself tying it tight as I approached the door. When I opened it, I expected to see Asher, or even the trio, there waiting to make me up for the last night of the Election but Venna stood there with a displeased look on her face.

  “Can I help you?” I asked rubbing my eyes with a yawn.

  “Oh dear, you look horrible,” she cooed, placing a hand on my cheek. “They really should have had you stay in the infirmary with that other girl. Please tell me they gave you something for the pain.”

  I let her fuss over me for a moment before I pulled back and asked, “Didn’t you come here for something?”

  Her expression changed to a stony one and she placed her hands in front of her. “I’m to escort you to Lord Beaford. He wishes to have a word with you.”

  When my face scrunched up in confusion, I winced. The scratches on my face still radiated pain even with after Tomas’s treatment. The likelihood I wouldn’t scar seemed like a daydream. I’d be happy if it didn’t get infected.

  “Give me a moment,” I told her and then shut the door. I searched through the wardrobe for something I could wear. Luckily, I found a long shirt and a pair of pants shoved in the back of the wardrobe. Probably meant for sleeping in but I’d rather wear them than another frilly dress. I quickly dressed and found the boots I’d worn when I’d first arrived, shoved under my bed.

  “Ready,” I said as I opened the door.

  Venna led me down the hallway, chitchatting about the gossip in the palace. “You know, everyone still thinks you are going to win the head spot. Even though that Violet girl is now number one.”

  “She is?” I asked surprised. I hadn’t looked at the scoreboard this morning and, from the way my stomach growled, I’d slept straight through breakfast.

  “Sure,” Venna nodded. “But it’s understandable after last night. That other girl, Zara, is it? She’s a nasty piece of work. Shame on her parents.” Her nose curled up in disgust.

  I made a noise of agreement and then asked, “Do you know who is left? I didn’t get a chance to look at the board this morning.”

  Venna smiled next to me. “Sure, three others were sent home though, but none of any importance, except that poor girl—Tillie, I think her name was. Four times she’s been here and they send her home again?” Venna shook her head in displeasure. “They have surely given her brain damage from wiping her memory so many times
.”

  “How do they do it?” I interrupted. “You know, wipe their memory? Is it a drug or some technology?”

  The older woman quieted for a moment and then said, “I’ve never seen it myself. They always do it in secret but I’ve heard rumors that it’s some form of hypnosis. I wouldn’t know more than that as I’m only a lowly servant.” She said the last bit with a laugh.

  “I don’t think so,” I argued. “Even as a servant, it must be better than being forced to dress up every day and be paraded around like a trophy, which I’m sure is to be my fate.”

  “Hardly,” Venna patted my hand, stopping us at a door. “You might be chosen for your looks but you’ll stay there because of your wit and your heart.”

  Frowning at her words, I didn’t get the chance to ask what she meant before she knocked on the door and walked away. A voice from inside told me I could enter. I twisted the knob and peeked into the room. An office almost exactly like the one my father and I had argued in, but behind the desk sat Beaford.

  When he saw me, he folded his hands over in front of him. “Please come in and shut the door behind you. We have much to discuss, you and I.”

  “We do?” I asked, coming before him and taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk. I didn’t think there was anything I had to talk about with the short man. Even more so, the way he was looking at me— so possessive—it made my skin crawl.

  “Yes, we do,” he answered and settled back into his seat. “I thought you might want to know your friend Violet is perfectly fine. A bit beat up, but she has been taken on as Maleria’s companion and will have the best medics looking after her now.”

  “That’s good to know, thank you.” I didn’t know who Maleria was but I didn’t doubt being a companion would provide Violet with more help than she could have gotten back home.

  “Also, I’m not sure your relationship to the boy...I’ve seen you hanging around with him as well as a few others, but Narq will be a servant in the palace from today on.” He watched my face for a reaction but I didn’t really have one. Narq had helped me out but that was about it. I didn’t know him any better than I had known Violet, though something in me had compelled me to rush to her aide when Zara had attacked.