Venus City 1 (20 page)

The weddings were coming up in a few weeks, Braya knew. She'd been confident that she would find her way out of being a Bride by then, as well as securing a cure for her sister—which she now was certain must exist if Venus Sare was capable of creating something as massive and powerful as the Petticoat Sky Illuminator—but now it was like time was slipping past her. What if she
did
end up having to marry one of these four guys?

Braya inhaled, stopping the thought before it could grow into something else. She stamped it down and forced herself to dwell on other things.

Much to her chagrin, it was then that Troy reappeared. He was one of the stupidest Finches she'd met so far. He was carrying two glasses of a sparkling liquid and handed her one as he brushed back a strand of his long golden hair. “Let's toast.”

He innocently wrapped an arm around her and smiled. “To our weddings. We'll both be lucky no matter who we marry.”

Braya was spared answering. Latham emerged, slipping between the crowds of couples, Maydessa a moment after. The frames of his glasses caught the light and his magenta eyes were locked on Troy's arm, still slung over Braya's shoulder. His air of sophistication hung around him like a doppelganger, an element of him that Braya couldn't help but like. Apparently she’d been wrong a moment ago; she hadn’t been imagining things. He was still the same man from the gardens, and it intrigued her more than she’d like to admit.

“How are you doing, Miss Braya?” He asked casually. His eyes met hers, and he offered her an easy smile. “I was worried about you, after the way we parted last time. Was everything all right?”

Braya noticed Maydessa's sour look, and it pleased her. If Latham's attention for her was what made Maydessa's blood boil, who was Braya to not play along? Call it payback for all the times she'd hit her during class when she was raising her hand like a mad woman to answer the teacher's questions.

Braya smiled brightly at Latham. “Don't worry. Everything was fine.” For a fleeting moment she feared he had heard Asher's voice in the gardens. “Really, it's all good.”

Latham nodded in acceptance, his gaze flicking back to where Troy's hand was lightly holding her shoulder. Troy was staring at Latham, seemingly confused as to what he was doing there, and drinking his cider at the same time. “Well, I have something for you.”

She hadn't noticed the long sheath of tissue paper he'd been holding at his side. Latham placed nimble fingers into the thin shaft of paper and withdrew a beautiful blue rose. He held it out to Braya, and grinned.

Maydessa gasped.

“This is a thornless blue rose,” he explained, gently grabbing her hand and wrapping it around the stem, “They don't grow in nature as blue, so they're really rare to find. They symbolize mystery and an unattainable desire. I got it for you...since you seem so mysterious to me. You shun away these Grooms, you leave in the middle of our conversations, and you don't tell anyone much about yourself.”

Braya stared at the flower. Unattainable desire? For some reason the color reminded her of Asher's eyes. Mysterious indeed, she thought with a scowl.

“Um, thanks,” she said. Her face was heated now. A slow, sputtering spark ignited in her chest when Latham leaned forward and casually brushed Troy's hand off her shoulder. That seemed to jolt Troy into action, who reached over to grab the rose.

“Thanks! I'm her date, I'll give it to her,” Troy said obliviously. There was a tension in the air as Latham's magenta eyes burned into Troy and he wrenched the flower from his grip, albeit softly as to not hurt the rose, and then handed it back to Braya.

“It's my gift to her,” he countered, his tone dipping dangerously. Braya stared at him in surprise. She'd never expected him to act so forceful or...

Jealous.

“Latham! Don't you have a flower for me, too?” Maydessa whined, tugging at his sleeve.

“Oh.” He seemed taken off guard, scratching the back of his head. “I must have forgotten it. I'll get it to you when we return to the manor.”

“Agh!” Maydessa cried. “But you brought Braya's! I'm your date, not her! I can be mysterious, you know.”

“Um, yeah,” he said sheepishly. His eyes, imbued with a silent intelligence that made Braya feel like he was holding something back, met hers again and he nodded. “I'll see you later, Miss Braya.”

“Oh, you!” Maydessa hissed at her once Latham was out of ear shot. She reminded Braya of an old tea kettle whistling and blowing steam, ready to burst. Her face was flushed in fury and her hands were clenched at her sides. “You have to ruin everything with your prissy little Crown routine! Well, I'll tell you now
Miss
Braya—I won't let you get Latham—never. He's a Crown and I'm the most loyal and thorough Bride of our group, so I deserve the top pick!”

Braya shrugged, uncaring. “Whatever you say.”

Maydessa gave another angry snarl before she stomped away. Braya watched her go, somewhat satisfied with her anger. She herself wished she could express her anger like that, all the time. Because she was angry—angry with everything. Angry for being a Bride, angry for being Asher's 'slave', angry for not being able to expose the Locers, and angry for the mutinous urges that overcame her around certain members of the opposite sex. They were minor things, those urges, like feather-soft touches, but they were enough to slowly drive her insane. She had to keep face, though. Braya could not let anyone know what was eating her away on the inside. It went against all that Crowns were known for; wealth. And that extended beyond money to encompass everything about their mannerisms and relationships with others. Braya hadn’t been upholding her values as a Crown lately, and that realization stung her deeply. Her mother had been correct. She was becoming like the Finches, wasn’t she? That was not good, not good at all.

****

Aspen greeted her when she made it home. He informed her that Harmony was cooking dinner and he'd finished his Career Interview a couple hours ago. They were standing in the foyer, and Aspen ushered her into one of the small halls tucked into the corner, where they couldn't be seen. It made Braya feel like he wanted to talk to her about something they shouldn't be talking about.

“I've been made a Groom,” he said, his rain-drop tone belying something else. It was as if he were surprised, confused. “Braya, how is it I got my first pick when you did not?”

“I'd like to know, too,” she answered spitefully, arms crossed.

“Shall we find out?”

She stared at him, trying to detect any sign in his expression that he was joking. No, Aspen didn't joke.

“There's no way to find out,” Braya dismissed, unnerved by his suggestion. “I'll just have to find my own method of getting out of this Finch career. In fact, I already have one.”

“Do you?” Aspen asked, his eyes twin pools of curiosity.

“I do,” Braya hedged. “But that's all I can say. Very soon, I'll be done with Heartland and those stupid Finches that live there.” Well,
if
she was able to find the Locers’ weakness. She hadn't been having a lot of opportunities to dig deeper into their group since she never spent time with any of them except Asher, and last night with the race had
not
counted.

“But, Braya,” his features scrunched up in a delicate frown, his magenta eyes accusing, “You said you would get the Tristant cure. You said you would talk with Leraphone—”

“And I did, didn't I? But that blue frizz was hardly worth anything. All she gave me was some useless medicine and told me to see her again later. Aspen,” she said, her patience worn thin like tissue paper. “My appointment with her is in two weeks. Why would she make me wait so long?”

Aspen's eyes glowed like a stoked fire. “I told you to trust me. You can't just quit because things don't happen instantaneously.”

Braya recoiled. “I
can
do whatever I want,” she hissed. “And what I happen to want to do is get a Crown job. Work for the Fair Lady's Court or the Hem Line.”

“Are your desires more important than Bellamine's life?”

His words were as stinging as an accusation and as pained as a confession. Braya stepped back as if slapped, and stared at him, the hard silence pressing around her with an inescapable heaviness.

“Don't you ever think that!” Braya declared, unable to disguise the tremble in her voice. “I'll do whatever it takes to get her that cure, even if I have to force someone to help me. Listen Aspen, you better tell that blue frizz ball that if she doesn't have that cure when I visit her in two weeks, I'll force her to give it to me.”

Aspen's tone was chilling, “How can you stand up to her if you can't stand up to Charlotte?”

A resounding thud followed his question, and then another series of banging sounds came a moment later. Braya and Aspen paused, sharing a concerned look. Voices floated down from somewhere upstairs, but it was hard to distinguish who they belonged to.

Someone cried out, and Braya and Aspen raced to the stairs, taking them two at a time. When they reached the second floor, they paused to listen. It sounded as if it were coming from the back of the left hall, toward Bellamine's room. Alarmed, the two of them darted around the corner and ran in the direction of their sister's room.

Mother and Harmony were there. Mother was towering over Harmony, who was crumpled on the ground, her face stained with tears, and the door to Bellamine's room stood ajar. Something thorny and heavy sunk into the pit of Braya's stomach at the sight of Bellamine's door cracked open. What was going on? Mother never went into their sister's room!

“Please, Miss Malister!” Harmony was crying. “I must attend to the young Miss Bellamine. She needs to take her medicine.”

“Since she's
my
daughter,” their mother sneered, “I decide who comes and goes from her room. From now on, you're banished from here. Get out of my sight!”

Harmony cowered, not making any move to leave. She was curled up in a fetal position and her body was quivering violently. She choked on a sob, and Mother let out a disgusted sound. She lunged forward and attempted to wrestle Harmony to her feet, but the Maid Bride was surprisingly strong, and resisted her, nearly pulling Mother to the ground in the process. Mother straightened up and kicked Harmony in the side. Once, twice—

Braya let out a gasp, and Mother stopped suddenly. Harmony rolled to her side and Aspen rushed forward to help her up.

“Well, isn't this nice,” Mother sneered, pushing back the black hair that had fallen into her face. “I can take care of all the garbage in my house in one clean sweep.”

“Mother,” Braya's voice hitched, and her eyes flickered once more to Bellamine's door. “What's going on? What happened?”

“Oh, something that's been long overdue,” her mother laughed mirthlessly. “I'm tired of things happening around this house without me knowing about it.”

“Mother, what are you talking about?” She could feel tears stinging her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks. Her mother was different, frightening. The thick, heady feeling that something was amiss hung in the air like a fog. “D-did something happen to Bellamine?” She almost didn't have the stomach to ask.

Aspen had helped Harmony down the hall, and now reappeared at Braya's side, his hand resting protectively on her elbow.

“Not to worry, my chitlins,” she said in a derisive tone. “I'm just seizing control, as it were. All these days I allowed too many things to go by, unchecked.” She withdrew a small vial from her jacket pocket, and Braya realized it was the vial of blue medicine that Leraphone had given her. Their mother opened it and tipped it sideways, letting the contents drain into the carpet. “Did you think you could actually cure that little creature? How many times did I drill it into your stupid head? That girl cannot and will not be cured and you need to stop thinking you can save her! It simply can't be done!” She was shrill now, and Braya took a step back, the tears falling, mixing into the same carpet where Bellamine's medicine soaked.

“Mother, no, please,” Braya fought uselessly, still staring forlornly at the blue stain. “This will help her. She can be cured, I'm sure of it.”

“You are not sure of anything,” Mother screeched, shattering the vial against the wall. “I spent years teaching you, mentoring you to be the perfect Crown daughter, and it's all ruined by that damn sick girl in there. She's your weakness. Along with your brother. The two of you...” she shook her head. “Get out. Leave my house. All of you are a shame to this family. No, no. You're not part of this family. Go! Get!”

Neither Braya nor Aspen moved. The air rang with with mounting tension, and the expression on Mother's face was twisted and gray like a thicket of storm clouds.

“Don't just stare at me! GO! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” She yelled hysterically. She advanced on them, and Aspen yanked Braya down the hall, calmly ordering her to run.

They hurried down the stairs and flew out the front door, their mother's voice still echoing through the foyer. The sky had opened up and rain was falling down in torrents. It was a sheet of smeared gray and the two of them got soaked as they ran to the garage. They got rain once in a while, but it was almost as rare as Braya watching a Moon Tamer game.

“Why didn't you stand up to her?” Aspen asked, his voice as chilling as the rain on her skin. They got in the car and told the driver to take them to Heartland. As the rain pelted the windows, Braya wrung her hands in her lap, trying to regain her composure.