Part 6 (1/2)
I wrinkle my nose at the sweet smelling liquid. ”What is it?”
”Sweet honey chai.” She walks to my closet and begins leafing through the gown section. ”Have you decided what to wear this evening?”
”No.” I'm careful to not look nervous as I finish off the chai and join Annalise at the closet, where she continues to sort through my clothes.
When she turns toward me, deep creases line her brow and her blue eyes move from the top of my head, down to my toes, scanning me.
I prepare myself for what's coming next.
”You should wear something...like these.” She holds up two dresses. The first is silk and has cranes scattered across the cream, kimono-like bodice and peplum. Dramatic green ribbon crisscrosses the chest and merges at the shoulders with a flowing green cape. The skirt is long and narrow. It looks like something Mother would wear.
The second dress is, for lack of a better description, made entirely of gray feathers. It has short sleeves, a high neck and a wide, asymmetrical skirt that cuts above the knee in the front and brushes the ground in the back.
If I wear it, I will look like a bird.
”I don't know,” I say. ”Neither appeal to me. What about that one.” I point to a strapless, citrus orange dress with delicate pleating and folds.
Annalise turns it front to back. ”It's bright. I thought you preferred to blend into the scenery.”
Even though her words sound neutral, I can't help but feel like she's mocking me. I take the dress from her. ”I think I'll wear this.”
”Suit yourself.”
I glance at my wristlet. Where is Kyra? Surely it doesn't take this long to find a pair of shoes? She needs to come save me from Annalise and her horrible fas.h.i.+on sense.
A strange combination of relief and dread fills me as I quickly change into my dress. I turn before the mirror, adjusting the folds so they hang just right.
”I have something for you.” Annalise reaches into her pocket. ”The other dresses would have matched better.” A green wristlet sits in her upturned hand. ”Malin wanted you to have this.”
My heart sinks. This isn't how I expected to be made a member of the State. In my fantasy, my beaming mother presents me the green wristlet before a small group of friends. There would be a small celebration.
This feels more like an afterthought.
Annalise slips my blue wristlet off and replaces it with the green one. ”Congratulations, you're officially a States woman.”
Banners of each of the five great societies flutter overhead and lanterns cast a soft, warm glow across the dance floor, illuminating the hundreds of twirling couples below.
I haven't been to a banquet this extravagant since Callum and Annalise were bound nearly three years ago. And that didn't exactly work out well.
A waiter stops before me, and I lift a gla.s.s of champagne from his tray and finish it in two gulps. It's my third-no fourth-gla.s.s of the night.
Kyra thinks I'm trying to drown my sorrows. Maybe she's right. It's not like I have much to be happy about. Not even my new green wristlet.
I lean against the wall, taking care to not slouch, and watch Maz lead Kyra across the dance floor. He's all arms and legs, not at all elegant, and it's amazing he hasn't tripped over the billowing hem of Kyra's gown.
”Bored?”
I lazily roll my head to the side. Ryker Newbold grins at me. His s.h.i.+rt hangs out of the bottom of his dinner jacket and a dark flop of hair drapes over one of his almond-shaped eyes. Next to him, I look as refined as Mother.
”Ryker! How are you?” Beck, Maz, and Ryker were once inseparable. So much so, that Kyra referred to them as a 'three-headed monster.' And unlike with Maz, Ryker and I have always gotten along.
He holds up a bottle of champagne. ”Better since I found this.”
”Nice.” I raise my gla.s.s and pretend to toast him as Kyra and Maz whirl past, lost in each other. ”They look good together, don't they?”
Ryker snickers. ”You're generous. Maz looks like an octopus next to Kyra.”
”He's never been graceful, has he?”
”Again, you're being too kind.” Ryker takes long sip from the bottle. When he's done, he tops off my gla.s.s. ”How are you? Kyra said you were out of it for a few days.”
”I heard the same thing.” My memories of my first days here are hazy at best.
”You don't know?”
”Not really. But the healers say that it's normal for someone who's been through what I have to lose track of time.”
Someone calls my name and I whip my head in their direction, only to have the room sway around me. I stagger into Ryker and he catches me by the elbow. My bare skin burns where his clothed arm touches me.
”Careful, Lark,” he says in a gravelly voice. ”You don't want everyone to think you're drunk.”
I rest a hand against the wall to steady myself. ”I am drunk.”
He squints at me. ”How much have you had?”
”A few gla.s.ses.” I point to his bottle. ”And whatever you've poured me.”
”Fantastic.” He glances over my shoulder and his face contorts.
”What?” I ask, following his eyes. My brother, Callum, stands on the other side of a long table laden with desserts. He's glaring at us. No. He's glaring at me. I try my best not to look intoxicated, because really, all I need is Callum running off to tattle on me. If Mother finds out, she'll probably confine me to my room again and slap the restraint back on.
Ryker and I reposition ourselves so that we're standing side-by-side, not touching. I keep my eyes on the dance floor and pretend my brother isn't shooting withering looks at me.
A white light strobes off to my left and I instinctively s.h.i.+eld my eyes.
”Lark! Who's your escort?” a voice booms from a camera floating over my head.
”d.a.m.n it,” I whisper. Of course, the newscasters waited until I was in an awkward situation to zero in on me.
”I'm sorry. Should have seen that.” Ryker maneuvers me so my back is to the room and I'm facing the wall. He keeps his hand around my waist, holding me up. It's not exactly proper, but it's better than me stumbling forward when my movements are being broadcasted live.
”Stupid gossip feeds,” I mutter. ”Why do people like them so much?”
”Because their lives are boring?” Ryker leans closer to me. The heat of his breath strikes the side of my cheek and I inhale sharply. ”Maybe if you pretend to be lost in conversation with me, no one will notice how drunk you are.”
I groan. He's right. My only option is to pretend to be enthralled by Ryker. Which means we'll be all over Kyra's gossip feeds tomorrow. But at least it will look like I've moved on from Beck, and Mother can't find fault with that.