Elected (The Elected Series Book 1) (11 page)

11

I hold her, rocking back and forth, until the guards gently extract Imogene from my grasp and carry her body away. I know wh
ere they’re taking her. To Vienne, as is custom. Vienne will dress the accused in proper burial clothing. She’ll prepare Imogene for the special graveyard where prisoners have their final resting place.

It isn’t a job I would wish on Vienne for her first day. We’re not even married yet. Technically, she’s not the Madame Elected. But in the absence of another, Vienne will take on this task.

I put my hands on my head, the ache from the helmet pulsing and then subsiding again. I don’t rise up from the floor or lift my head until I hear Tomlin’s voice at the door.

“Elected, we’ve brought Griffin to you.”

There are indeed two guards hauling Griffin into the room. His arms are chained behind him, and the guards each hold him under one armpit, dragging him forward. He’s fighting it, but when he sees me, surprise flashes across his face, and his legs go slack. He sees the droplets of Imogene’s blood still on the floor, and his eyes widen.

“Leave him here,” I say.

Tomlin looks at me with his eyebrows raised. “Are you sure, Elected? You don’t look well. The helmet, it can do strange things...”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I look toward the guards. “I want to see him alone. But keep the chains on his arms. And close the window’s shutter on the door. Come back in only if I call you.” My tone is sharper than usual.

They nod and leave the room, Tomlin glancing back at me, still worried. Griffin did nothing wrong that they know of. Yet, on just the strength of my word, my orders were followed explicitly. The surge of power I felt earlier at knowing Vienne was all mine, comes again.

I walk up to face Griffin, who is now standing squarely in front of me. He looks at me with a mixture of anger and confusion etched around his clenched jaw.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

Here he is in chains before me, and he’s asking how I am? I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Part of me wants to finally tell him the strange feelings I’m having for him. Now that we’re alone, in the privacy of this room, I’m free to say anything I want. I want to believe he might actually care about me. But another part of me can’t connect those dots. I know what I saw in the helmet, and it doesn’t fit with everything Griffin’s told me to my face. I have to remember that. This boy could be my undoing, yet too often I’m fantasizing about him instead of doing my duty as a leader. That’s got to change right now.

“It’s you who’s not all right.” I brush off his concern like it’s a disease I don’t want to catch. I make a circle around him, inspecting the chains expertly tied around his elbows.

“Ahh, I see.” Griffin glances down at his shoes and nods his head, starting to understand the extent of my anger toward him. “So now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me,
Madame
Elected?”

I face him, so we’re almost eye to eye. He still doesn’t get it. He thinks this is all a joke. He knows who the assassin is, and he thinks I’ll just let it go. He says I’ll make a strong leader, but he’s about to find out just how strong my father taught me to be. Griffin’s a few inches taller than me, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t blink as I stare at him, my fury building.

And then I hit him hard across the face.

His chin jolts to the side as the impact of my hand smashes against the side of his cheek.

Griffin staggers back, surprised at my sudden assault. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“What I should have done right away, when you ‘saved’ me at the town hall. You knew, Griffin. You know now. You’re hiding the assassin!”

He’s looking down, pushing his hurt cheek up against his shoulder and cracking his jaw. But then he looks up at me again, the initial surprise at my blow now leaving his eyes. “Aloy, you’re safe, are you not? Isn’t that good enough?”

“Elected.” My mouth forms a hard line. “You’re to call me Elected! Not Madame Elected. Elected!”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares me down, refusing to say the word.

We stay like that a moment, two lions circling each other in a tight cage.

Finally, I sit down on the cot, leaning back with my elbows against the crisp, scratchy sheet. I give a clipped laugh, already knowing I’ve won. It doesn’t matter what he says or what he can’t bring himself to say. I’m the Elected. Power courses through me like oxygen in my bloodstream. Adrenaline pumps in my temples, accentuating the harsh effects of the Multiplier. I ball my hands into fists, fitting them against my eyes.

“It’s not good enough. You have to hand over the assassin,” I say.

Griffin responds almost so quietly I don’t hear him. I stand up to get closer.

“What did you say?” I ask.

His voice rises so when I’m finally inches from his face, it takes me aback. “You don’t understand. I cannot hand over the assassin!”

“So you’d rather sacrifice your country and your Elected than give up a traitor?”

“No! I won’t sacrifice you or this country! I’ll protect you until my dying breath, but I can’t give you a name!”

He slumps to his knees, losing the roguish confidence he usually displays around me. The chains around his elbows hit the concrete in back of him in a thick thud.

I’m taken aback by his promise to protect me and his sudden, uncharacteristic anguish. “What do you mean ‘protect you until my dying breath’?”

“Don’t you know? Haven’t I kept your secret for you? Haven’t I given up almost everything to keep you safe? Risked my own life. And almost even my...” He is suddenly silent, looking down, but then speaks again, his voice a whisper. “Ever since I saw you at the dance... I... I couldn’t...”

I desperately want to know what he’s thought about since the night of the dance, but another part of me can’t let him say it. His words will jeopardize everything. Instead, I interrupt, questioning him again. “Then why not give up the traitor?”

He no longer seems mischievous, playing a game with me. He’s too serious. “Don’t ask more from me than what I can give.”

We stay like that for a few heartbeats, neither of us knowing what to do next.

Griffin finally breaks the silence. “So here I am, on my knees. Chained. Will you keep me here as a prisoner now? Am I to drink the hemlock just because I saved you but won’t give you a name?”

I’m quiet, so he continues. “No?”

Of course I won’t make him drink hemlock. But I stride up confidently to him, bending to the floor, fully prepared to tell Griffin if he won’t give me a name, I don’t need his further protection or so-called friendship either. But, right up in front of his bent figure, I hesitate. I remember the night of the dance, his hand touching mine. And then, more recently, his finger brushing against my cheek under the tree.

When he looks up at me and our eyes lock, I find I can’t speak at all. Instead, I sink down onto the ground, the fight finally leaving my body for good.

This boy—no, this man—brings me to do things I don’t understand. All of a sudden, I’m horrified that I hit him.

Appalled, I watch Griffin as he stares back at me, his face expectant with a bluish bruise already forming across one cheekbone.

I lower my head in shame. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I hit you.”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“It is something. I’ve never raised a hand to anyone before. Let alone a prisoner in chains.” I put my head in my hands, all my energy seeping out. “What’s wrong with me lately?”

I can’t believe I’m opening myself up to this man who sits shackled next to me on the floor. But, after using the helmet and feeling the rush of its mesmerizing power, now all of a sudden, I’m spent. My body sags.

Griffin sighs and moves closer to me so that I find I’m leaning on him by default. I shift away from him gradually, still not quite willing to trust him. But the feel of his body against mine as our arms touch, even for a brief moment, is like my own personal drug. I look away so he can’t see the blush drifting its way up my neck into my cheeks.

“Wrong with you? In one day you’ve lost your parents, claimed your birthright, and met the woman you’re supposed to marry. That’s a lot for anyone to take on. I can’t say I like the chains, but this new, tough you is sort of sexy.”

I can’t help myself. I look up at him and give a small laugh. But then I shudder. “How do you know that I met Vienne today?”

Griffin shrugs again, his shoulder rising with the gesture.

“I know a lot of stuff. I told you. I’m watching out for you.”

“Watching out for me? Or just plain watching me?” I glance at him, but when Griffin doesn’t answer, I say, “That’s a little creepy.”

“Look, I’ve never met anyone who’s quite as... alone... as you are. I want to help so you’ll be the leader we’re all hoping for.” He pauses and his assured smile comes back two-fold. “Think of me as your catalyst to greatness.”

I snicker, unable to control myself. “My catalyst to greatness? Wow, don’t you think highly of yourself?”

This time he laughs too. “No, I think highly of you.”

I look him in the eyes, in awe once again of his unwavering confidence in me. But before I can become enamored of the picture he’s painted of me and forget my purpose, I ask him my questions again. I won’t be distracted like I was the other night under the tree.

“Griffin, you have to tell me. Who is the assassin? And how do you know I met Vienne today?”

Griffin looks to his left over his shoulder, away from me.

“Come on,” I say. “I’ll take care of it. You won’t have to do anything. Just give me the name.”

“That’s what I worry about.” Griffin chooses to answer my second question first. “Okay, I know Vienne. I’ve known who she was since she first moved into the White House fourteen years ago.”

I’m shocked at this. “You have? She’s been there for that long?”

“I’ve spent a lot of time wandering the halls of your house, waiting for my father. I couldn’t help notice Vienne’s studies were different from other kids’. She took something called psychology lessons. Normal kids don’t get that training. Believe me.”

“You’ve made a pastime of watching me and my future wife,” I grumble.

“Just as you made a pastime of watching me.”

Again, I’m embarrassed. I can feel the color rise in my cheeks to a hot crimson. I sense his arm braced up against mine. The skin tingles, making my arm feel more alive than the rest of my body. I’m conscious, not for the first time, that the man I’ve thought about from afar for the past four years is now close enough to touch. It’s a dangerously delicious feeling that continues to threaten my future. I tamp down the thought of his skin’s proximity to mine and continue a now gentler line of questioning.

“So, if you won’t hand over the assassin, it means you must have already taken care of him?”

Griffin winces like I’ve hit him in the gut. He doesn’t say anything.

“So I’m right,” I say.

Griffin looks back at me ruefully. “Sort of. I... neutralized the situation.”

I’m quiet for a moment, letting the idea I might be safe ease its way through my nerve endings. My hands, which I didn’t even realize were pinched into fists, automatically release. Maybe I can trust Griffin. He admits he knows who the traitor is, but he says he’s found a way to protect me from the threat. I don’t relish the thought of watching another prisoner die today. Maybe however Griffin’s rectified the situation is good enough for now.

My next words come out so fast I don’t even pause to think them through. “I think you should be part of my personal guard.”

Griffin grins, his happiness causing me to smile too. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

12

I stand up, brushing fragments of concrete off my pants.

“Guards, please come in!” I call in a loud voice. Immediately, Tomlin and the two guards who were with him earlier enter the room. “Release Griffin.”

“Elected?” Tomlin asks, clearly bewildered.

“Griffin doesn’t know what I thought he knew.” It’s a lie, and I look away from Tomlin as I say it. “But I have othe
r plans for him. He’s going to be one of my bodyguards.”

Tomlin looks down at the ground, trying hard to suppress a smile. “Whatever you wish, Elected.”

The two guards on either side of Tomlin unshackle Griffin’s arms. Griffin pulls at his wrists, stretching them for the first time.

I start to walk out of the prisoner’s room with Griffin close behind me. But I turn my head back and say to Tomlin, “And the Multiplier...”

He stops to look at me again. “Yes?”

“
No
one should wear the Mind Multiplier again.”

Tomlin coughs, aware this is a subtle reprimand of the callous way he disregarded my personal safety in order to try the device. I look into his eyes, trying to guess if he tried the Multiplier himself before putting it on my head.

The way he avoids my gaze gives away the answer. I wonder what he’s seen.

“It’s too dangerous,” I say.

Tomlin nods, feeling my recrimination. “Do you want me to destroy it?”

“No, please give it to Vienne. I trust she’ll keep it safe and out of anyone’s hands.”

Tomlin nods again. “Of course, Elected.” He bows slightly, a gesture I’m not familiar with yet, especially from my long-time teacher.

The group of us returns through the long corridor of the prison, back into the lobby and then outside. As we walk, our boots churn up a billowing cloud of dust and dirt. We’re about halfway across the wide lawn when I see a maid running toward us.

“Elected,” she chokes out, breathless.

I stop in my tracks and put both of my hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Vienne...” Worry is etched across her forehead. Her outstretched arm points toward the White House.

Before she can even finish her statement, I’m running. I feel the thud of earth behind me as Griffin, the two guards, and Tomlin run after me, their footsteps falling heavy on the ground. From my smaller frame and long hours of play fighting, I’m faster than any of them.

I reach the front doors of the house first. In the foyer, I look frantically left and right, realizing I don’t know exactly where Vienne stays now that she’s almost the Madame Elected.

The maid is close behind us and points me to the left. “She’s in her quarters.”

I follow the maid to a set of double doors. Our whole party trails close behind. I throw open the doors, not even bothering with a polite knock.

Vienne looks up sharply as we all rumble into the room.

“Are you okay?” My question comes out as a gasp.

“Of course,” she says. Her hands are folded against her stomach in what seems to be a relaxed state, but as I stare at her, I see she’s clasping them so hard, her nails make white imprints into the skin.

I look around the room, searching for the danger, confused. “The maid said something... was wrong.”

Vienne stands up from her seated position in a chair and wipes a hand across her brow.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

But, it’s not just me who’s worried. Griffin walks past me to where Vienne leans her hand against a table. “You don’t look so good,” he says, his concern for her also apparent.

In that instant, I remember that Griffin and Vienne know each other. It’s obvious in the way Griffin lays a hand delicately on her arm. All of a sudden, I feel like a third party in the room. It makes me feel like spiders are crawling up my arms. The tingle of jealousy and my own shame threaten to topple me.

Vienne looks up at Griffin with a tentative smile. “I’m truly fine. Just a fainting spell.”

“She collapsed?” I ask the maid, coming out of my stupor.

“Yes, while dressing the dead prisoner,” the maid says.

I take the silver key from the string around my neck, ready to open our family’s vault and retrieve a purple pill for Vienne even though I realize it’s overkill.

“That won’t be necessary,” Vienne says, looking directly into my eyes. She knows exactly what I was about to do. “I was just startled when I saw this.”

My eyes move down to where Vienne is looking. On the table before her is something wrapped in a cloth.

Griffin lifts the fabric and picks up the small object, confused what to do with it.

Tomlin walks closer, his earnestness for learning taking precedent. “It’s a gun. Vienne, did it hurt you?” He looks over her arms and legs for any sign of injury.

“No, I barely touched it. It fell out of Imogene’s jacket pocket.”

“From Imogene?” I ask, incredulous. “How did she have a gun on her?”

The guards shake their heads in response, as flummoxed as I am. “I need answers to that,” I say to them.

The head guard nods, bows to me, and says, “Elected, we’ll give you a report by tonight.” Both guards exit the room to start their investigation.

“A gun,” Tomlin says again in awe. He lifts a hand to his forehead. “I haven’t seen a gun for years. Your father led the melting party years ago.”

“Just like our stores of long arrows were destroyed?” I ask, disheartened.

Griffin grimaces, but I don’t have time for his discomfort over the assassin right now. I settle my eyes back on Vienne.

“But, were you hurt by it in any way?” I ask her again. I don’t completely understand how guns work. Just that they can fire and cause holes in people. Holes that kill people instantly.

Vienne shakes her head again. “It just clattered to the floor as I was preparing Imogene for burial.”

Tomlin opens the gun’s casing to inspect it.

“How do we now have guns in our country?” I ask him. “This is spinning out of control.”

He nods in agreement. “We are certainly seeing an uptick in technology use.” We all look down, acknowledging this fact with grimly set lips. Finally, Tomlin says, “I’m going to follow the guards to investigate. If you’ll excuse me?” He bows toward me and exits the room.

“Do you think we should do a metal scan?” Vienne asks.

A metal scan is when guards walk around the entire country, using a chemical compound to detect the presence of metal. It’s a process that doesn’t rely on technology to work. Only science. While technology is outlawed, science and chemistry are subjects we study and revere. To us, technology is anything run with oil or electricity. But, the art of natural science, the study of plants, and the understanding of the environment is dear to our society.

I nod toward Vienne in acceptance of her idea. “I hate to do it, but we need to know if there are other guns out there.”

“I’ll round up a squad of guards to start the country-wide search,” Griffin says.

“And you’ll need to talk about this at our next town hall,” Vienne says, walking up next to me. “If we’re starting a wide-spread scan, it’ll frighten our countrymen. They’ll need some kind of explanation.”

Griffin puts a hand on my shoulder. “Do you think Imogene was planning to use the gun on you?” Griffin’s worry for me now shows itself in a deep crease between his eyebrows.

I like his attention centered on me, instead of Vienne. But I instantly feel selfish and look away. “I don’t think so. Imogene wasn’t in a state to do harm to anyone else besides herself.”

Griffin slings an arm across my shoulder. The warmth from his body touching me again feels good, but I can’t let my future wife notice how I like it. I turn slightly so Griffin’s arm is forced to fall away.

“Protecting you and Vienne is going to be a full time job, isn’t it?” Griffin says.

“What does he mean?” Vienne asks.

I smile awkwardly, not wanting to reveal to her I want Griffin near me and have figured out a way to make it happen. “Griffin is one of our new bodyguards.”

“Oh!” she says without a hint of reservation. “I thought he already was. He’s always in the house, you know.”

I smile back at her more fully. “Yes, he’s certainly a fixture here.” Then I pause, knowing for once what Vienne would appreciate me saying to her. “As are you.”

Vienne beams at me, the color now back in her cheeks. “I promise to be a good wife to you.” She kisses me on the temple, her lips leaving a tingle where they brush the skin.

I blush, not sure what to do with this new sign of affection. I haven’t felt someone kiss me in years, if ever. I try to think back to a time when lips touched my skin, but I can’t remember any instance. Her kiss makes me remember my duty, though.

I look at the ground as I say the next words, trying to keep my voice steady. I can’t look at either Vienne or Griffin as I say them. It’s like the second the sentence escapes my mouth, imaginary chains will come down to bind my neck, wrists, and ankles. I swallow, already feeling constricted. “We need to have our wedding sooner rather than later.”

“I’ll start the preparations immediately,” Vienne says, pleasure clear across her face.

“So soon?” Griffin asks. He grimaces once in Vienne’s direction but then looks quickly away from both of us.

“Yes, of course,” Vienne says, giving him a pointed look.

I take advantage of the chill passing through the room to interject another piece of uncomfortable information. “Oh, and... I should tell you,” I say, glancing around to ensure only Griffin and Vienne are left in the room. “Griffin knows I’m a... girl.” I swallow thickly again, wishing there was a glass of water or some other, stronger liquid in the room.

Vienne stands back from the table, her right hand resting on her hip. She speaks slowly, focusing on me. “You told him? Why?”

“No! I didn’t... I...”

“She didn’t tell me. I figured it out,” Griffin says. Thankfully, he doesn’t tell her about seeing the decisive evidence of my femininity up close. “I don’t think anyone else knows besides me. I’ve been listening for rumors of it, but no one suspects.”

“Okay,” says Vienne. “Then it stays between us and Tomlin. That’s it.”

I remember my gender endangers not just myself, but if my secret were publicized, Vienne would be executed too.

“Agreed,” says Griffin.

Vienne looks back and forth from me to Griffin. She puts a hand on my forehead. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Aloy. You haven’t had much rest over the past few nights.”

It’s true. My eyes feel droopy. I think of my mother, tucking me into bed the day of the first assassination attempt, and I miss her again. I swallow hard, trying to resolve my feelings of missing my parents, knowing it was only today they left. All I want to do is curl up under soft blankets and block out reality.

I exit the room, glancing back at Vienne and Griffin for the briefest of seconds. The two of them stare after me. I give them a small smile, then turn around the doorframe, about to head to my room.

But, I can’t help overhearing their hushed voices coming through the cracked doorway. I pause a moment, feeling conflicted about listening to their obviously private conversation. But Vienne’s next words keep me at the door, my ear pressed up against the wall.

“You always knew, didn’t you?” she asks.

Griffin says something in return, but I can’t make out his words. I lean a little closer to the door.

“Even though it’s confirmed, it doesn’t make a difference,” Vienne says.

Griffin’s voice is quiet, but this time I can hear some of his response. “...ultimately her decision...”

“You can’t. You just can’t,” says Vienne.

Suddenly, I’m tapped on the shoulder. “Elected!” says a young maid, surprised to see me with my ear up against the wall. “Can I get you anything?”

I cough slightly, looking away from the door. “Oh, ummm... no thanks, no tea for me. Thanks for checking, though. I’m just heading to my room.” My words rush out fast.

I whirl on my heels before the maid can say anything more. I know she must be looking at me like I’m crazy, since she didn’t ask me anything about tea. The maid bows, keeping wary eyes on me. I proceed in my original direction, left wondering what exactly Griffin can’t do. And, if I’d rather he tried whatever it is.