Page 76

Then I got to work setting up the shot. I lifted a crate on top of a desk, right up against the window. I slid the window open and settled the rifle on top of the crate to boost it to the opening. Looking through the scope, I focused it on the festival.

On the stage where my wife would soon appear.

Chapter 26

Claire

“Idon’t think the Sire will approve.” Polly Holiday’s voice was shrill and nervous that morning. She feared angering her master, without realizing that it was my intention to enrage him. The festival was in two hours, and I’d already endured hours of her waxing, painting, and perfecting me for my speech.

I smoothed down the black, filmy skirt of my dress. Julius had apparently handpicked a dress for me: snow white, with elaborate ivory beading and a mermaid silhouette. It looked like a wedding dress, which I was certain was intentional, and I deemed it hideous. I felt sick looking at it when it arrived at the house the evening before the festival, and it’d made me go looking in my overstuffed closet for something—anything—else.

Unfortunately for him, putting me on strict house arrest until the festival meant that I had plenty of time to browse the far-too-many gowns they’d given me. Instead of the mock wedding dress, I’d chosen a long, flowing black gown with a black lace skirt and gauzy layers. It looked like something a high-society lady wore to an ostentatious funeral. Underneath, I snuck the only pair of sneakers I’d been given, hidden by my skirts. I needed to be able to move quickly, and the dress would be hindrance enough.

“I’ll tell him it was my idea,” I told Polly, feigning nonchalance. “He won’t punish you.”

In truth, I didn’t know if that was the case, but I didn’t plan on being here to find out. Today was a risk—an enormous, terrifying risk—but it was also the day of my liberation.

“Well, I insist that you wear the jewellery he chose,” she said, and she produced a silver necklace, drop earrings, and, worst of all, a tiara with delicate pearls. The queenly attire was part of the show, and I hated it.

Nonetheless, I let Polly curl my hair into long waves and affix the tiara to the crown of my head with pins. When I looked in the mirror over the vanity table, I barely recognized myself. Even I had to admit they’d made me look the part. I felt pretty, despite the anger and dread swirling in my stomach.

I met Major Hamilton downstairs, and he escorted me to the self-driving car that’d take us to the main park, where the festival was set up. He climbed in the back with me, and once we were buckled up, wordlessly handed me a holstered handgun. I promptly strapped it to my thigh, then easily concealed it beneath my voluminous skirts. It was another good reason for this dress.

“Self-defence only,” Hamilton reminded me. “You have seventeen rounds, and if things get out of hand, it may not be enough. Let my squad do our jobs.” He paused, then added in a hushed tone, “I hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate for you to shoot your kneecap off.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you for your confidence in me, but I assure you, I’ll be fine.”

The gun had been at my insistence. I didn’t want to be a sitting duck again, like at the library. Hamilton had spent the better part of a week gathering allies, but I still wanted my own means of protection, especially since I hadn’t been able to help with any of the planning beyond writing an alternate speech.

The car ride was short, and in what felt like no time at all, we’d arrived at the large central park. It was full of colourful, seasonal food stands and games, which would be open once I’d given my speech. There were several virtual reality booths that promised various adventures, along with more traditional carnival-style games. The smell of grilling food was already mouth-watering; I’d only picked at my breakfast that morning.

The park was fenced in with tall iron posts, and Delta soldiers guarded the perimeter. Security had been tightened so that once someone entered one of the three gates, they couldn’t leave until the festival ended in the evening. Against one fence was the wooden stage where I was meant to give my speech. The backdrop was an enormous screen, taller than me, that currently showed a default message reading Messages coming soon.

Hamilton led me to the standing tent behind the stage, where three Delta soldiers stood guard. Inside, Julius was perched in an overstuffed armchair, a glass of port in his hand. There were rugs laid out on the ground, and the space stank of cigar smoke. It figured that he’d demand his creature comforts, even at a time like this.

“Thank you, Major Hamilton, for delivering her,” Julius said in a bored sort of voice. “Your squad has arrived. Why don’t you go give them a security briefing before the guests arrive?”

“Yes, sir.” Hamilton gave a short nod and left without looking at me.

As soon as he left the tent, Julius’s calm, bored demeanour fell away. He stood, nearly spilling the glass of port, and seized my arm roughly. For the first time, I noticed that he looked a bit unglued; his normally carefully coifed hair was askew, and his eyes had dark circles underneath. He was already drunk, too—his breath stank of booze. I was suddenly jerked into vivid teenage memories of putting my plastered mother to sleep on the couch.

It was unusual, however, for Julius to be drunk so early in the day. One look at his wild eyes told me that, perhaps for the first time since our meeting, he was nervous about something. The realization frightened and intrigued me in equal measure. Did he know…?

“What are you wearing?” Julius hissed at me, squeezing my arm painfully. “You look like you’re in mourning.”

I set my jaw in defiance. “I am.”

“I sent a dress for you.”

“And I elected not to wear it,” I replied impatiently. “You can’t force me.”

He pulled me close with surprising strength, his hot, stale breath fanning over my face. “I can force you to do anything. Your entire existence is owed to me.”

I was determined not to be afraid of this man anymore—no matter how immortal he was. No matter the kind of power I’d seen him wield.

“I owe you nothing,” I said through my teeth. Nothing but death.

His slap was a shock of pain across my face before he released me, fuming. As I rubbed my cheek, he smoothed the front of his suit, as though he could smooth over my insolence in the same way. When he spoke again, it was with a feigned calm. A thin veneer over madness. A smiling mask on a ticking bomb.