BEFORE (2 page)

“Table Ten?” Beck asks me. 

I keep a smile plastered on my face, but my fingers dig into his forearm. “Yes.” 

He leads me away from the tables where the most distinguished guests sit, past the foreign dignitaries, and toward the back of the room. My insides churn with each step. I know I should be better at this type of thing, but the thought of everyone watching me makes me want to run from the room. 

When we’re nearly to the end of the row, I stop short and double check our table assignment on my wristlet. Table Ten. Which is…shoved into the corner, away from the other guests, except for the unfortunate few who have also been condemned here. My frozen smile melts off my lips as soon as I turn my back to the room. When my eyes meet Beck’s, my lip trembles.

  Perhaps Mother knows how much I hate being in public? Or is she simply so embarrassed by my social ineptness that she wants to hide me in a corner?

Beck releases my arm and flashes his dazzling smile to our tablemates. 

“Good evening,” he says, using formal State speech. “I’m Beck Channing.”

Silence.

A mousy women with a pinched expression turns to the person next to her and says, “What a beautiful ceremony. Malin must be so proud, and Callum thrilled, to have Annalise join their family.”

My mouth drops open. What in the world? Does she not recognize us?

“Excuse me.” Despite the twinges of anger boiling in me, my voice is calm. “I’m Lark Greene and this Beck Channing, my birth-mate.”

Normally, when people hear our names, they light up. It’s embarrassing, actually. But not this woman. 

“Lark,” she says coolly. “How nice of you to attend your brother’s binding.”

She scowls in Beck’s direction, but either he doesn’t notice or he’s too polite to comment because he holds out my chair and doesn’t acknowledge her rudeness. However, when my shoulder brushes his arm, he leans down so that his mouth is millimeters from my ear. 

“We could leave.”

I shake my head. As much as I want to, we both know we can’t. 

#

“When you greet Malin, keep your chin up. Don’t look at your shoes.” Bethina stood across from me, back stiff and straight, pretending to be my mother. “And do not touch your lips.”

I dropped my hand to my side and rolled my shoulders back. 

“Like this?” I asked, hoping I looked more refined and less like a hopeless schoolgirl. I cleared my throat and spoke the words I’d been practicing for the past hour. “Mother, it’s a pleasure to see you this evening.”

“Not bad, Lark. I could actually hear you that time,” Beck said from the other side of the room. “She’s doing better, isn’t she, B?”

Bethina clucked her tongue. “Better, but she still has a long way to go.”

With a sigh, I stretched my spine and imagined a string pulling me nice and straight. Proper, like a real Stateswoman. I held out my arm, wrist side up, to Bethina and tried again. 

“Mother, it’s a pleasure to see you this evening.” My clear voice didn’t shake or fade, and I beamed.

“Much better.” Bethina grasped my arm in greeting. “I knew you could do it. A binding is nothing to be frightened of. It’ll be just like any other State function you and Beck have been to.”

I wanted to believe her, but Bethina left out one important detail: my mother. I’d never attended an event where I had to interact with her. 

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands. “Time for the two of you to finish your schoolwork.” She paused at the door. “And don’t be late for dinner.”

“I’m never late for food,” Beck called after her.

I turned on my brother’s binding invitation. Since it arrived, I’d watched it at least thirty times. Or more. And each time, bile rose in my throat as I envisioned having to stand in a receiving line with my mother, brother, and his new mate and make small talk with strangers. 

“Watching it again?” Beck asked.

“It’s pretty,” I said, flicking the invitation off. 

Beck laid his tablet on top of a pile of dirty clothes covering his desk and studied me with his head inclined to the left. 

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“No.” I attempted a confident smile. But lying was silly. Of course I was nervous. That’s why I asked Bethina to practice with me. It’s why I couldn’t stop watching the invitation. And Beck knew it.

He crossed the room to where I stood and took both my hands in his. “We could refuse to go.”

Bethina had said the same thing to me earlier in the day. “Ping Malin and say that you’re unable to attend. Problem solved.”

But no matter how tempting it was to do just that, I couldn’t bring myself to actually ping my mother. 

“If we refuse to go, it may impact our placements.”

“Really, Lark? That’s what you’re worried about? A test we don’t even take for another three years?”

It did worry me. After all, getting a top job placement in Agriculture is why I pushed myself so hard in school.

But it wasn’t why I didn’t want to go and Beck knew it. 

“You have nothing to worry about.” His olive green eyes studied my face. “You’re the top student in our class, you’re a hard worker, and…” He blushed. “You’re pretty. Malin is going to have a hard time finding something wrong with you.”

“But what if that isn’t enough?” So far, all I’ve ever been is a disappointment to Mother. The way she’s always ignored me was testament to that. 

A dark shadow crossed Beck’s face. “Malin doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

#

Whistles ring out around us and I crane my neck to get a better view of the long, main table in the middle of the room. Towering arrangements of flowers and crystals climb toward the ceiling, dwarfing the guests seated below. The air shimmers as it passes through the crystals. 

Twenty chairs line each side of the table and all but three are occupied. Many of the table’s guests–the Head of State and various department ministers–I recognize from daily wallscreen broadcasts. 

Everyone else is most likely Annalise’s family.

Beck and I should be sitting with them. I may have never attended a binding before, but I do know it’s customary for the new couple’s family to sit at the main table. And yet, Mother placed us out here on the floor, as far from the table as possible.

I shift in my seat and my dress crinkles. Under the table, Beck grabs my hand and squeezes it, slowing my pulse to a lazy rhythm. The tension I’ve been carrying around all night fades. 

The music shifts once again to a steady drumming. Our tablemates rise to their feet, whistling and clapping in time. 

As the noise becomes louder, so does the thundering of my pulse in my ears. Panic attacks–that’s what Bethina called them. Social anxiety. And it’s gotten worse over the course of the past few months. But even if it has a name, it’s still incredibly embarrassing. 

No matter how hard I try to fight it, the room sways around me and my legs wobble. As always, Beck’s at my side, his solid arm pulling me to his chest and his fingers tracing circles across the back of my hand. 

“It’s okay, Birdie. Just relax.”

But this isn’t like a normal attack, instead of feeling scared, I’m angry. Angry that I’ve been sentenced to the corner. Angry that Mother’s guests are rude to Beck. And angry that my mother hasn’t said so much as ‘hello’ to me.

As the shouts of “best wishes” come nearer to us, Beck’s body stiffen. Can’t say I blame him–he and my brother, Callum, have never gotten along. 

“Here they come,” Beck says in my ear. 

My eyes skip past my brother, eager to have my first glimpse of my new sister-in-law. It’s customary for the woman to stay veiled during the ceremony, so I have no idea what she looks like since Mother didn’t include a picture with the invitation. My guess is she’s in the center of the gaggle of girls–most likely her housemates–just behind Callum. 

As they near us and the girls fall away, fragments of Annalise come into view: thick, inky black hair; a milky white shoulder; a flash of her pale violet dress; ruby lips stretched into a wide smile. And finally, two large, blue eyes that land on my face and light up in recognition. 

If I’m lucky, I may end up half as beautiful. 

Next to me, Beck stands slackjawed. I elbow him in the gut. “Don’t gawk. She’s coming this way.”

“Lark?” she says in a light, musical voice. “What are you doing out here? You should be at the main table.”

When she notices Beck, her mouth parts slightly and she raises her eyebrows. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had come also.” Her once warm smile is now strained. “How…lovely.”

Without waiting for Beck or I to say anything, she grabs my hand and pulls me away. “Malin? Can Lark sit at our table?”

The crowd around my mother parts and she glides toward us, waving to the guests. Her smile is both warm, and yet conveys an air of authority. And every person in this room loves her. 

I hold my breath as she comes closer. Please look at me. At least acknowledge you know I’m here. 

She pauses before us and my lungs decide to stop working. 

“Lark, Beck.”

“Good evening, Malin,” Beck says. His voice sounds rougher than normal and not at all happy.

I lick my dry lips and swallow to moisten my throat. “Hello, Mother.” 

All those hours of practicing, and this is what you say? Really, Lark?

She places her soft palm against the side of my cheek. “Darling girl, there’s no need to be nervous. You’re among friends.”

Beck shifts his weight forward and bumps into me. I teeter on my silly high-heeled booties, but Annalise steadies me. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you this evening, Mother.” 

“It’s a pleasure to see you too, Lark.” She laughs, a sweet, rolling laugh that fills me with dread. She shouldn’t be laughing at my greeting. 

Annalise wraps her arm through mine, as if we have been life-long friends, instead of meeting just moments earlier. “Can we move Lark to our table? I’d love for her to join us.”

Mother’s gaze flicks between Beck and me. “Surely, you’re more comfortable here?”

Table Ten is hidden away from the action of the main room. And despite the slight of not being included at the head table, it feels safe. Still, a part of me wants to sit with Mother. Where Beck and I belong.

From behind me, I hear Beck say, “It would be an honor to sit with you, Malin.”

Annalise gasps softly and her arm tightens around me. Her presence is like a lead weight pressing down on me, holding me in place. 

After a moment of silence, Mother bats her large blue eyes and smiles. “Of course.” She touches her wristlet. “Carter, have two more settings added to my table.” 

“Mother,” I say with a shaking voice. “We’re happy here. No need to change things for us.” I don’t want her to think I’m fussy. Or difficult.

“Come now, Love. Don’t be silly,” Mother says, linking her arm through my free one so that I’m sandwiched between her and Annalise. “You too, Beck.”

Beck looks first to me and then Mother. “Yes, of course,” he says too brightly.

Annalise and Mother exchange knowing glances.

I should be excited, but all I feel is worry. 

#

Every so often, my legs shake. I’d like to say it’s from standing in my shoes, but the truth is, it’s probably nerves. Standing in the receiving line, next to Mother, isn’t exactly what I planned on doing–I never practiced for it.

I peer through the crowd at Beck sitting alone at the main table. He opted out of the line, but I wasn’t given the option. Mother simply informed me I would be joining my family and Annalise’s at the greeting. And once Mother commands something, that’s the way it is.

When he sees me staring, Beck flashes a smile in my direction. My internal jitters slow down a bit, but I really wish he were next to me instead of across the room. 

More guests move past us, leaving small gifts on the table before Annalise. And more people clasp my hand and tell Mother how glad they are to see me here, in the family line, where I belong. Their words, meant to compliment, somehow have the opposite effect and I feel like even more of a fraud.