Phoenix (9 page)

God, this is so hard. So much more difficult than Mother ever let on.

But the truth is, if I want to be seen as a leader, I need to act like one. And I need those around me to treat me like one. Starting with Beck.
 

"Hey, Birdie, wait up."

I spin on my heels, anger filling my heart. "Do not ever question me in public again. Do you understand?"

His glance slides coolly over me, and my skin crawls. "Maybe you should try listening for once instead of demanding things."

"Maybe you need to learn your place," I shout, not caring who hears us.

"My place?" he retorts. "My place is as your equal. You yourself said so."

My fingers tingle with magic, but I fight the urge to hurt him and shove my hands into the pockets of my dress.

"You're still not fully under control, are you?" he asks.

"Are you?"
 

"Yes." He avoids my gaze, a sure sign he's lying.
 

Air rushes out of my nostrils. "Didn't feel that way in the meeting," I say, recalling the way his anger simmered inside me. "I, at least, can tell the difference between our emotions. I know what's mine and what's yours. Can you say the same?"

"Are you worried I'm going to set someone on fire? Or maybe blow up the meeting room instead of leaving a little memento? Or maybe you're worried you'll do it to me?" he taunts. A slow smile plays across his lips. "I'd like to see you try to pull something like that. Don't forget, my magic rivals yours."

"Does it?" I challenge. From inside my pocket, I flick my fingers and a tiny bolt of energy zooms toward Beck. Nothing that would cause more than a tiny shock.
 

He deftly catches it and tosses it back to me. "Child's play, Birdie. Don't forget, I've been at this a lot longer than you."

His words are a stab to the gut.
 

I scowl and fold my arms across my chest. What I want is to stomp away, but that's childish behavior – something I'm trying to give up.
 

"Are you okay?" Beck asks as our eyes meet. The anger from moments ago has evaporated, leaving behind concern.

"No," I say. My throat constricts, and I force out the next words. "I hate when you treat me like I'm not your equal. I hate how you've known about being a witch for years – years – longer than me. And mostly, I hate when you flaunt it in front of me. I'm a powerful witch, don't ever forget it."

He takes two large steps and closes the distance between us. "How could I ever forget?" he asks.

I bristle when he tries to fold me into his strong arms, but Beck doesn't stop trying. He wraps himself around me, hugging me close until our breathing becomes one. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
 

"Sometimes," I say. "It's just too much. Do you understand?"

He kisses the top of my head and pulls me into the nearest empty room. "I may be the only person in the world who does."

"It's not only all this outside stuff, but the problems between you and me too. How are you supposed to fully trust me again after all the things I've done to you? How am I to trust you when you keep supporting Ryker? And your emotions – Beck I've never felt you so irate before."

"And I've never felt you so...so unprepared." Beck's breath is heavy in my ear. "I won't lie, trying to kill me and sentencing me to death doesn't exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy toward you."

I gently punch his arm. "That's not what I mean. I turned on you. How can you forgive me?"

His hands cup my face and tilts my head back. "I forgive you because I know you better than myself. But above all else, I love you. And I will love you until the day I die."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Wake up, Lark. You have to get ready." Annalise flings open my heavy bedroom curtains, and dim light filters through the window. "The camera will be here in two hours."

I stretch my arms over my head before burying myself back into Beck's shoulder. The warmth of the bed is greater than my fear of whatever Annalise can do to me. "What are you talking about?"

"Today's your official first day back on the job. Have you forgotten? You announced it to the world yesterday."

I groan and pull the covers over my head. "Surely, that doesn't mean waking up at..." I glance at my wristlet and groan again. "Five-thirty."

"Surely, it does," my sister-in-law replies. "
You
have to give the daily Student Report. Just like Malin did."

This has to be a bad dream. "More newscasts? Can't we just abolish this piece of the job?"

"No," she says, yanking away the duvet. With her free arm, she tugs me away from Beck. "The Society needs to see you actually working." She sits me upright on the bed. "Plus, this is the easiest part of your day. Don't forget, you have Council briefings to attend and meetings with dignitaries."

An exasperated sigh escapes my mouth. "Can't I set my own agenda? Why do I have to do everything Mother did?"

"Malin always felt this – the morning announcement - was the most important piece of her job."

"Right, because she told lies and half-truths to get what she wanted and brainwashed the youth of our society. Bravo, Mother."

"Or another way of seeing it is that she kept everyone calm, so the riots wouldn't spread. The youth are usually the first to embrace such things."

A yawn. "Fine. What do I need to do?"

"Hair and makeup first." Annalise checks her wristlet. "It's already five forty-five. Mira and Dani are waiting, so hurry up and shower. We can run through your notes as they work on you."

I never thought about how polished Mother looked, I just assumed she was naturally beautiful. "Did Mother do this every morning?"

"Every day, and now you will too."

Fabulous.

I toss a glance at Beck who smirks at me from the cozy bed. "Sorry, Birdie." He rolls over as if going back to sleep.

"Oh no you don't," I say, wrangling away from Annalise and jumping back into the bed. I crawl over to him and drape myself over his side, pushing my face close to his. "Guess who is going to be my co-host today? Remember, we need to get the public used to seeing us together and all that?" I roll over to face Annalise. "Make sure Beck is ready too."

She raises her eyebrows. "This is one of your better ideas, Lark."

I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not. I choose to believe she likes my idea. "Thank you," I say, before sliding off the bed and skipping toward the shower.

After I'm scrubbed and cleaned, I wrap myself in a fluffy terry cloth robe and emerge from the steaming bathroom. The cool air of my bedroom sends chills trilling over my skin. Beck is nowhere to be seen.

"There she is!" exclaims a woman I've never seen before. Her hair stands about two feet from her scalp and holds ribbons covered in glitter. "I'm Mira, dear Lark, darling. I'll be doing your hair every day from now on." Her voice is chipper, and she speaks even faster than Kyra - something I thought impossible.

My room has been transformed into a beauty center. Mira leads me to a chair that stands before a large mirror I've never seen before. Racks of dresses line the wall next to it. Kyra would die to see this. Hopefully, she will soon. I miss having her around all the time.

"I hope you don't mind we set up here," Mira says. "It's just so much easier than dragging you to some far off room. We'll pack it all away when we're done. Cross my heart."

With deft hands, Mira grabs at the ends of my damp hair and begins spraying it with some sort of misty liquid before unknotting it. "Now Lark, since you're so young, we thought something fun would be appropriate." She tugs at the ends of my hair. "You're a trendsetter now. The gossip feeds will love you!"

"I'm a
what
?" My stomach rolls. I so don't want to be all over the gossip feeds.

"Why darling girl, everyone is going to want to wear what you wear, just as they did with your mother. You are a celebrity."

My heart sinks. All my life, I've tried to avoid the cameras, and now I have to court them. Even worse, I'm apparently both a fashion icon and celebrity. Beck and I have done our best to stay out of the gossip feeds, but now Mira is saying it's part of my job to stay
in
them. After what happened the other day, it's something I have no desire to do.

Mira dries my hair and sprays something in it. "To dirty it up," she says which makes no sense since I was just told to wash it. She then begins backcombing my hair. When she's done, I look as if I just woke up – only a little worse. My hair is a riot of knots, and parts stick straight out from my head.
 

I keep staring straight ahead until I see Beck slink in behind me. I address him while looking in the mirror at the giant mess that is my hair.
 

"Don't you look pretty," I tease. Beck's eyes have been rimmed with dark liner and his bronzed skin powdered and blushed. He looks ridiculous.

"It itches," he complains.
 

Dani, the make-up artist, slaps at his hands. "Don't you dare. It took me forever to get it on you."

"Don't you think it's a bit much?" I ask. "He looks comical."

Dani shakes her head. "He'll look normal on camera." She nods toward Mira. "We always exaggerate our looks for the wallscreens."

"You look lovely, Birdie," Beck laughs. "Like you have a nest on your head."

"Hush, you." Mira shoos him away. "Annalise, take him to get dressed while we finish up here."

Mira yanks on my hair, brushing and smoothing it until it shines. Next, she reaches into a bag and takes out a long case. When she opens it, pieces of hair are exposed.
 

"What's that?" I ask in horror.

"Extensions, to make your hair fuller when we do the up-do," she says and clips the pieces of hair against my head.
 

Fantastic, not only do I have a rat's nest on my head, I now have fake hair too.
 

An hour later, my hair has been twisted and teased into an elaborate style. A strand of pearls hangs from my temples and dips across my forehead like a reverse headband. With this hairdo, I must measure several inches taller.

"I have to do this every morning?" I lament.

"Oh, yes dear. But don't you worry, I'll make sure it's always something new and exciting. Do you like it?"

My head feels heavy with all the pearls and extensions, so I turn it slowly from side-to-side, worried Mira's handiwork may topple over if I make a wrong move.
 

"I love it," I lie. I look ridiculous, but everyone keeps saying that by this afternoon, all the Stateswomen will be clamoring for hair like this. That's what happened with Mother and her famous chignons.
 

Before I can breathe, Dani is peering at my skin, clucking her tongue.
 

"You are so pale, but at least your skin is flawless. We'll need very little enhancement there." She snaps her fingers and declares, "Blush! You're too pale, and on the wallscreen you'll look all washed out. And eyeshadow. I'm thinking purple to really bring out the olive in your eyes."

She turns the chair away from the mirror so I can't see what's being done to me as she pokes and prods my face. I'm positive I'm going to look garish.
 

But to my surprise, when Dani turns me around, my make-up is flawless, and I must admit, I look a tiny bit like a darker version of Mother.

"Now for wardrobe," Annalise says. "Malin favored jewel colors and simple necklines, but maybe something else for you?"

"I want to seem mature, not like a little girl playing dress up." How, with my ridiculous hair that's possible, remains a mystery.

She nods. "What about this?" Annalise holds up an emerald green wrap dress. "It's simple."

"I like it. The neckline will show off my necklace." I reach down and hold onto the bird charm. "I want the world to see Beck's token."

Annalise holds out the green dress to me and I remove my plush robe, leaving me standing in just my bralette and panties. I snatch the dress from her and slip my arms in before wrapping the sash around my waist and tying it into a bow.
 

"How do I look?" I ask, patting my elaborate hairdo.
 

"Like a leader, but now you have to sell it. You have to get the public to believe you. You must sound like an authority. Can you do it?"

"Didn't I do well yesterday?"

A strange look passes across Annalise's face. "Yes, yes you did."
 

"Then there's nothing to worry about," I say, confidently.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Beck and I stumble down the long hallway of our house to the room we use as a conference room, me with wobbly hair and him fidgeting with the suit jacket he wears.
 

The long table that normally occupies the middle of the floor has been shoved off to the side, and a desk with a large map of our Society occupies the space at the far end of the room. I recognize the set from Mother's broadcasts. Someone must have brought it over from her house.

I guess that means it's mine now. Lovely.

"Which seat do you want?" I ask Beck, gesturing to the desk.

He ponders the question before saying, "The right side."

"My right or camera right?" I ask.

"Your right." He pauses before adding, "After all, I'm your right-hand man."

I blush. "You're much more than that, and you know it."

We arrange ourselves behind the large, steel and glass desk. A teleprompter hovers in front of us, just off camera.
 

I scan the list of reports. Nothing too out of the ordinary. "Which parts do you want?" I ask.

Beck begins reading. "Good morning, Students - that sounds like Malin, you should read the intro. I'll do the next story and you can do the one after that."

I scroll through the stories. Updates on the food shortages - which according to this, don't exist - and the Founders' Ball along with a story on new Sensitive captures.
 

"Beck, many of these are lies. Can you do it?"

He wrinkles his brow as he reads the food shortage story. "I'm supposed to sit here and pretend that the Ag Centers are at full production, and there's not a hungry person in the Society?"