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Knowing looks flashed across Benson and Fiona’s faces at Maren’s dull reply. They didn’t pry, leaving Kieran to look down as the skin of her hand brushed his own, giving it a squeeze in return. As she dismissed herself from the table, Kieran instinctively rose as well, catching onto her body language.
As they crossed the threshold of the mess hall, Maren’s legs seemed to kick into a brisk walk, nearly leaving him in the dust. He quickened his pace, following after her despite not knowing where she was truly headed. Expecting to round the corner, they had come to a halt and before Kieran could register anything, she was grabbing his hand and tugging him with her inside of a janitorial closet, shutting the door behind them.
Now, shrouded in darkness and the smell of chemicals, the sound of Maren’s heavy breathing filled the room around them and though he could barely see her in front of him, he could feel her. His mind could picture her face in front of him. The small room was now filled with the turmoil that roiled her insides and he could sense it rolling off of her. The panic.
When he had first met her and been made aware she was Hylark’s daughter, the last thing he had expected from her was that she would be this disturbed by what was happening. He figured like her father she would want nothing more than to please everyone, to follow the rules happily. He had judged her too quickly. She wasn’t brainwashed like many of the others, he knew that now, and yet, he hadn’t known her enough to want to include her in his plan of escaping. He had always been a work alone type of guy, especially out in the Vale, but now, as they stood merely inches apart, as she melted before him in the darkness of a closet, he knew it would eat at him. If he escaped and she didn’t. She was feeling all the things he let boil inside, only his presented itself as anger. She at least had the strength to show it, despite that moment being inside a cleaning supply room with him.
Releasing a low sigh, Kieran reached out slowly, feeling the air until his fingers brushed the backs of each of her hands. He used them as his guide as he gently brushed his fingertips up her arms until they reached her face. The only light being a small crack in the door, he could see glimpses of her glassy sea gaze as he lifted her chin.
“Then you don’t have to,” he began, his voice low and he thought over his next words carefully before finally letting them out. “I’m going to get us out of here,”a bold promise, but a still a promise.
As a tear slipped down her face, he felt it hit his thumb and brushed it away before dropping his hands. “I’ve been planning an escape since I was placed here, I suppose a little cargo wouldn’t hurt,” his voice, although still low, had a playful tone to it. The playfulness didn’t last long though, he lifted his hand, running it through his hair as his mind wandered.
“It’s going to take some time, and we’re going to have to play a part,” he leaned his back against one of the walls. “They know how I feel about this. . . situation. What they don’t know is how you feel. That is the one advantage we have right now against them. Until we can convince them that their stupid game is working, they’re going to be watching us. I’m not here to find love, okay? We just need to make them happy, and then we can get out of here. If you can help me, I will not leave you behind. We can cross the wall together.” In the end. He needed her. For any of it to work. He needed her to be brave, or else things would go south quickly.
Deciding to use their privacy to the fullest he added, “If they’re going to expect us to do these tasks, we’re going to have to get to know each other whether we want to or not. I’m not saying any of this is ideal, but as soon as we are behind our doors, we don’t have to pretend, just when we have eyes. Can you do that?”
* * *
They had returned to their room when the coast was clear. Now sat at opposite sides of the room as they waited for Benson and Fiona to arrive at their door. Kieran had already begun pregaming, managing to find a bottle of bourbon hidden with the wine. He stared down at the amber liquid at the bottom of his glass before downing the remainder of it, letting it burn down his throat when a knocking came at the door.
Slipping off the island stool, he sauntered toward the door, opening it to reveal the pair, a small smile on Fiona’s face as she greeted them.
“Who needs to get drunk?” Benson peeked over toward Maren, a grin on his face and they slipped out the door, heading toward the bar. At least he thought it was just going to be a bar. As they neared the area, he found that half of it was outdoors and half wasn’t. It was much bigger than he anticipated too. Music vibrated against his feet and as they entered the dimly lit structure, lights and smoke flashed across a dancefloor. Blinking, Kieran suggested they start at the outdoor bar.
As they found their seats, Benson ordered them all shots of tequila to start the night and Kieran grimanced as it was slid toward him. His nose crinkling, Benson slapped him on the back and rose his shot glass.
“Here’s to our sorry asses,”he announced and they tipped them back, Fiona coughing at the taste of the potent alcohol entering her mouth. Kieran groaned, shoving the glass away before ordering himself a whisky instead.
Peering over his shoulder, he scanned the area for guards, there hadn't been as many as the ball, but still, eyes lingered. Shifting his gaze back to the group, Kieran tried not to look stiff as his arm slid around Maren, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair that cascaded down her shoulders. He gave her a knowing look, before forcing his gaze on Benson who began expressing his love for dancing. A dangerous territory in Kieran's mind.
His confidence, no matter how strained, was a guiding light for Maren that morning – even if he failed to realize it. There was a strength to him that she had not seen before, as if it were hidden behind the armor and shields he already adorned in the first place. Perhaps that was what living in the Vale did to someone. Sure, Maren was no stranger to brute force, for the number of bodyguards she had employed in her life was suffocating, but Kieran was different. His mind did not seem as fragile as hers, or anyone’s that lived in Alynthi for that matter. What horrors could someone have gone through to not only have a body made of steel, but a mind of one, as well?
He chewed the apple, juice glistening on his lips, and Maren observed him without fear. For once, her eyes did not shy away from his. She still didn’t trust him, not fully, but there was a growing respect that seemed to tether to both sides. They saw each other as people, not just body parts with a purpose. Still, she sat on his words and diverted her gaze to her toast, staring at the crumbs.“Am I, Kieran?” she asked, gently shoving her tray away before she turned to him once more. “Am I in safe hands?”
Maren’s words sat heavy in the air, but she needed to know. She needed something concrete. A sliver of hope to hold onto. If he gave her that, she could put on a show.
An all too familiar voice cut through the conversation and Maren quickly scooted towards Kieran, just so that their shoulders were brushing. She was thankful that she hadn’t touched her breakfast, for it would have surely churned in her stomach upon seeing the devilish eyes beam down on her – the ones that belonged to Melanie Hutchins. The girl from the ceremony whose first impression was… less than ideal.
And the way she addressed Kieran only strengthened that. Surprise flashed behind Maren’s eyes and she found her body growing tight with… with what? Anger came the closest, but it was something far more twisted. Something she couldn’t name – or didn’t want to.
Just as Maren parted her lips in order to shoot back her own venom to the snake, Kieran’s words filled the void.
And thank god they did.
Pulling her lips together and pressing them to contain a laugh, Maren cut a quick glance at Kieran and dipped her chin. Impressive, the gesture seemed to say.
Two more bodies joined the suffocating table, though Maren’s shoulder’s sagged with relief at this one, rather than clench with annoyance. Benson’s honeyed eyes met her’s and she offered the boy a genuine, small smile. Thankfully, he sent her one right back. The girl he was matched with, Fiona, saw the interaction and merely joined in with a serene expression of her own. Nothing predatory or possessive laced her features – unlike the other woman seated at their table.
However, just when the mood nearly shifted into something more pleasant, Melanie’s storm cloud rolled back to rain on their parade. Vulgar, sinister words once again disrupted their breakfast and Maren found herself clutching her fork a little too tightly. Benson seemed to have the same reaction to Melanie’s sadistic prying.
Maren hated this. Everything about this. The loss of free will. The loss of her human right to choose, as well as everyone else’s. This wasn’t for the greater good, for doing the right thing should never feel so goddamn heavy.
Once again, Kieran came to save the day with his sharp tongue. Maren was growing to like it. He seemed to have no problem showing his claws.
Fortunately for Melanie, Dr. Paddux strolled into the cafeteria, her heels clacking vehemently against the slick tile. Not a hair was out of place on the woman, though that did not stop Maren from assessing her for any sort of crack in her pristine armor.
As Paddux spoke, Maren felt the urge to sink further and further into herself. Despite the rage that brewed inside of her, she did not have the confidence like Kieran to go against the current. No matter how many warning bells rang off inside her head with every passing word that came out of the doctor’s mouth, she remained silent. With so much to say.
Remember, there is always an end goal.
Sweat collected at the back of her neck and she forced her eyes shut for a moment, allowed herself to breathe through her nose slowly and out through her mouth. She was no longer inside the cafeteria, surrounded by other couples. No, she was a teenage girl locked inside a pristine office with a man…. She was told to do certain things, told to not do certain things. Memories as painful as bullet wounds took over to the point where, if asked to speak, Maren was confident she would only melt into a puddle. She was no longer in her body, but somewhere else. Far, far away.
And then, a gentle pressure on her knee.
Her eyes flickered open and she saw Kieran staring back. His hand had slid from his lap to rest on her, but in no way that seemed threatening. In fact, it felt like the only thing rooting her back to reality, no matter how monstrous it may be. Her muscles relaxed ever so slightly and Maren simply stared back at him, the thorns that guarded her slowly becoming unfurled. Thank you, her eyes said, though, for some reason, she felt that Kieran already knew.
Benson spoke up beside her, though Maren’s eyes were still locked on Kieran’s. At the daring question, she forced herself to act nonchalant, but in her mind she was taking dutiful notes. By “successful” Maren knew Paddux meant “pregnant.” No matter how grand, a prison was still a prison.
The air in the room after Paddux left was still cumbersome, but Maren found her voice easier without the stern woman’s presence. As the others rattled on about exploring, bars, and whatever false freedoms they were given, Maren slid her eyes to her match. Her bonded. The one she would have to do life with. Forever.
The gentle squeeze he gave her knee was all the consoling she needed. The small gesture said so much. She was thankful for it.
Clearing her throat and finally dragging her gaze away from his, Maren merely sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” Sure, her tone lacked the enthusiasm one might have when being offered free liquor and a chance to let loose, but she did not feel like letting her guard down surrounded by angry watchdogs. Not when so much was on the line.
Placing her hand over Kieran’s and giving it a squeeze back, a silent request, Maren grabbed her tray and rose from the bench. “Excuse me, I’m still a little tired from the ceremony last night,” she more so said to Benson and Fiona rather than the other pair. Catching Kieran’s eyes, she gave a subtle jerk of her chin, a request to follow, before disposing of her tray.
Once they had escaped the bustling cafeteria and it was just them in the large, main hall, Maren picked up her pace, barely waiting for Kieran to catch up. However, despite the lack of people, save for a few guards scattered about here and there, she did not get the peace she desired. Maren honestly feared she never would again.
About halfway to their room, Maren could feel the weight in her lungs become more and more strained. Still feeling woozy, her eyes frantically scanned the hall, looking for any sort of reprieve. In the endless depths of the guard's eyes, she found none.
Except for a solid, inconspicuous door. A closet. Perhaps the only place she wouldn’t feel watched.
Without any hesitation, she practically dove for the door, snatching Kieran’s hand and dragging him with. Pulling them both into the small, cramped space, Maren was quickly hit with the smell of cleaning supplies before she slammed the door shut, locking it and leaving them to the darkness that followed.
Much better. Already, her body began to unfurl.
Catching her breath, she fisted her hands at her sides.
“Fuck,” she hissed, tossing her head back. She wasn’t used to feeling so… unguarded in front of another. Maren had always been graced with the privilege of running from her problems. Except for now. Now, she was faced with their deadly, sinister form. And she didn’t know how to handle it.
“Sorry, I just –” she swallowed, blinking away the burning sensation that trekked behind her eyes.
Follow her fathers wishes. He wondered how many times before she had told herself that lie. President’s daughter or not – he was no fool when it came to reading people, it was the only way he got through a majority of his life in the Vale. Nevertheless, he made no comment, knowing that she had lied for a reason. The look on her face said it all and he read it aloud to himself, soaking it in. She was truly moving through the motions, never truly living a life she could call her own.
* * *
Sharing a bed with a woman was the least of Kieran’s worries. It was the principal behind it all that made his gut tighten with anger. “It seems the rest of our lives will be spent just to make someone else happy,” Kieran retorted as he rose from his make-shift bed.
Running water filled the bathroom, but no steam collected across the mirror above the sink as he stared into it. He had been told many times that he wasn’t someone that looked approachable. His resting face always dark and brooding. Dark lashes brimmed his cerulean eyes, the only true splash of color to his features. Although he held an olive complexion, the dark circles that never seemed to fade from his eyes made him look forever drained, tired.
Kieran began undressing, stepping into the raining water that – despite having been freezing, left no goosebumps across his skin as it wet his body and he began rinsing off the heavy weight that sat on his shoulders.
Dried off and dressed in gray washed denim and a black Henley long sleeve, Kieran emerged in time for Grace to arrive back at their apartment to take them on yet another forced venture. Silently, Kieran wondered why the government bothered using actual humans, with all the technology of their world, he would think that they would just use robots for their twisted fantasies. It wasn’t like they had any life of their own. He was surprised they were allowed to breathe without permission first.
As they neared closer to their dining area, Kieran took in the scent of food, but his stomach remained a tight knot, not a tug of appetite greeted him, even as they breached the threshold of the mess hall, and several different colors met his gaze. Drinks, fruits, pastries, breakfast meats and condiments. Nothing.
Falling in step with Maren, Kieran couldn’t bring his jaw to unclench as he simply grabbed an apple off the table with a lazy hand, following after her towards the table with a glitching holograph of their names floating before it. As he took his seat beside her, his eyes locked on one of the guards as he stared back at the pair with little shame. Kieran leaned forward on his elbows, rotating the ruby red fruit between his fingers as his eyebrows set in a dull glare before tearing away from them. A silent warning hung in the air around them. If it wasn’t his talk last night with the Doctor, it would have been simply the fact that his pair was not like the rest. She held importance that they did not have. Whether that was an advantage for Kieran or a disadvantage – he wasn’t sure yet.
Taking a forced bite out of his apple, juice exploded in his mouth and the meat of the fruit was crisp between his teeth. Shooting Maren a side-ways glance, Kieran swallowed. “If they want a show, we give them a show,” his voice was low. “We show them you’re in safe hands, and if they want a couple, we give them a couple,” It was the only way to deter them, he realized. Especially if he was serious about finding an escape route. He couldn’t have constant stares on him, so he would give them what they wanted – at least out in public. Just until they were in the clear. He had raise alerts on them by being reckless with the Doctor last night, he knew that, now he needed to clean up his mess.
“Well, if it isn’t the precious daughter of Hylark,” a females voice interrupted and Kieran shot a glance in the direction it came from.
Two figures approached the plethora of food laid out and grabbed trays. One a tall male with jaw length curls of bronze and round hazel eyes. The other a shorter female with barely shoulder-length, pin-straight, black hair and sharp brown hooded eyes that held little kindness to them. They loaded up their trays with smoothies and food, taking a seat across from them. The male – Jeremiah, stole a piece of bacon from the girls plate, ignoring them, but the girl – Melanie, offered them a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, her hand going to rest on her pairs arm.
“It’s a shame you’ve been bound with one the. . . Wall rats,” she looked Kieran up and down, a tinge of disgust twitching around her full lips. Kieran paused his second bite into his apple, slowly clenching his jaw around it until a piece came off into his mouth once more, his blue gaze trained on her as she looked at Maren innocently.
Swallowing, Kieran shrugged. “As apposed to Jeremiah here being paired with an actual rat?”
Jeremiah nearly choked on his piece of bacon, quickly grabbing his smoothie to wash it down and Melanie’s grip on his arm tightened like a vice as she shot a glare to Kieran, her lips opened, but she was interrupted as two more bodies entered the room.
A dark skinned boy with eyes so light brown they could have been mistaken for gold. He was accompanied by a girl with long waves of red, and almond shaped eyes of emerald. Unlike the precious couple, they made no threatening comments or predatory facial expressions. They simply picked up some food and found their seats quietly. Benson took his seat, but his eyes landed on Maren beside him and Kieran followed the gaze to find Maren staring right back. They were familiar with each other it seemed. Fiona offered Maren and him a soft smile, averting her gaze from the other two who seemed to have steam rolling off their shoulders.
“Ah, Benson, how have your endeavors with Fiona been? I bet he’s just fantastic in bed,”Melanie let out a laugh that Jeremiah joined in with. Fiona’s pale cheeks flushed and she looked down at her tray. Benson’s muscles protruded beneath his skin, holding his tray with white-knuckles.
“What’s the matter Melanie, is he that unimpressive in bed that you feel the need to meddle in someone else's sex life?”
“Listen here you–”
Dr. Paddux entered the room, causing the room to fall silent. Melanie who had rose from her seat, slowly sat back down and Kieran tossed his unfinished apple into the bin beside their table, turning to meet the Doctors gaze as it fell on all of them.
“I see you've all found your way successfully,” she folded her hands in front of her and she halted her gaze on Kieran and Maren for a short moment before continuing. “Tasks such as this one are going to be assigned to you six regularly. Routine dinners will be attended together as well as monthly assignments that will be given to one of the two in each pairing. You will complete this task successfully, or there will be consequences. Just some. . . precautions. We want you to feel safe and comfortable here, but we also have our duties to fullfil as couples. Remember, there is always an end goal.”
Some of the group members nodded, but Kieran simply glanced at Maren at his side. She looked much more pale than just moments before. His hand instinctively reached over and settled on her knee, purposely not putting it anywhere she’d deem inappropriate. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was feeding into the bullshit the doctor was spewing.
“Ma'am, what do you mean by consequences?” Benson spoke up.
“As long as your relationships continue to be successful and we feel that you are compiling with our goals here, you shouldn’t have to worry about such things, Mr. Altarr,” Paddux smiled before nodding for everyone to continue their meals. “Remember, you are not our prisoners, feel free to explore,” her gaze stopped on Kieran as she went to leave the room. A warning not to do too much exploring he knew. It wouldn’t be possible anyways, not with the guards watching them like hawks. Like they still were.
“They have a bar,” Fiona, to Kieran’s surprise, finally spoke. “It’s actually really pretty and I think we could all use a chance to let loose, maybe later this afternoon?” she looked between Benson and Maren and Kieran, refusing to look to the other two who finished their food in silence.
Kieran released a low sigh, “That’s up to the boss,” his hand, still on her knee, offered it a small squeeze. A silent question as to if she was alright more than anything.
The heels she wore felt like razor blades digging into her skin. Her entire body was rigid and Maren knew very well that she did not look like the sensual being that was expected of her. Despite the flawless, shining interior of the ballroom that should have transported her into a whole new world, she could only see it without the mask – for her rose-colored glasses were tainted. There was no fooling her. She had grown up around the treacherous ways of politics. If something was too good to be true, then it most likely was.
A majority of the partygoers were smiling, spreading their wings and bathing in the embrace of their new life. Lust-filled gazes were passed between partners, only trusting the word of one with enough status rather than their hearts. However, within the tangle, Maren could not ignore those that stayed on the outskirts. Those who looked at their match hesitantly. As well as those who looked at one another out of despair. Heartbreak sat behind glassy eyes. While this day was Heaven for some, it was another person’s living Hell. Who knew how many of these people were already in loving relationships beforehand? Genetics could only hold so much weight. And it was not enough.
Matching Kieran’s blank look, she watched him leave. Like Hell she would charge after him as if she were a dog on a leash. He probably craved as much space as she did. While there was no denying his beauty, a layer of thorns covered him, as well. And, Maren could only imagine what armor she wore, for she knew she was the complete opposite of a doting partner.
A match made in Heaven, clearly.
Scanning around the room, Maren’s eyes caught the face of a boy that wore an expression much like her own. Hopeless. Pained. Empty. He was without a match as well and, before she knew it, she was charting a path toward him, her painful heels clicking lightly on the marble floor. Reaching the ebony-skinned boy, she opened her mouth, though no words came out right away. Always the charmer, she was.
He made no effort to hide his knowledge of her status and the handsome man nodded his head, quickly painting a mask over his face. “Ms. Hylark. It’s an honor. Congratulations on your pairing. It is a privilege to celebrate with you.” His voice was rich, velvety. It was clear he came from Alynthi, but he wasn’t celebrating, unlike the others from the city. His black, curly hair was buzzed, giving ample space to show off his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, though, his eyes were comfortingly soft. Kind, even.
She passed him a genuine smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you,” she started, turning her back so she faced the dance floor, making it seem as if she were merely waiting for Kieran to return. And nothing else. She had to choose her next words carefully, for if she misread this man, things could go extremely wrong. “This is still very much a shock to me. Forgive me if my lack of enthusiasm is…” her eyes flicked to him. “Offputting.”
The rate at which his shoulders visibly relaxed could have made waves throughout the entire ballroom. But, she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“I understand. I am still getting a handle on things myself.” At those words, the boy’s gaze traveled to another man, dancing with a woman in the center. He had deep brown hair and a pained expression despite the glimmering one across the woman’s face. The brown-haired boy, as if sensing eyes upon him, immediately found the other man’s gaze.
The sparks were tangible. A look like that could have set the entire facility on fire.
It made sense now. And Maren felt sick.
Throat tight, trying her best to keep her face neutral, she reached for a champagne glass being carted around on a tray. Her grip was trembling. This was wrong… All of this was so fucking wrong. Ignoring true compatibility, all in the name of saving the goddamn human race.
Maybe at this rate, they didn’t deserve to be saved.
Blinking away the burning sensation in her eyes, she turned to the boy one last time. “Thank you for the chat…”
“Benson, Ms. Hylark” he filled in.
“Benson. I truly appreciate it.” Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Kieran, being escorted by a guard right toward her.
Lovely.
“And please, just call me Maren,” she quickly added right as Kieran arrived at her side. He pried the emotional support champagne from her hands and she all but glowered at him, but it quickly dissipated as he began dragging her out to the dance floor. They weaved through couple after couple until they sat dead center of the swarm. Kieran’s hand found her waist, his fingers laced their way in between hers, and his lips ghosted the most sensitive part of her ear.
She couldn’t help but shiver, Maren just prayed to God that he couldn’t feel it.
Kieran’s words flowed easily, despite the horrific truths. Casually, she shifted her body closer to him, ignoring the flares of anxiety that exploded in her mind. She could feel the weight of multiple gazes on her, and she was used to it, but not in the scrutinizing sense. It made her stomach roll. “It’s not you,” she whispered after he brought her back into his arms from the spin. “You’re…” She couldn't find the words and winced. “Nothing is wrong with you, Kieran. You’re not to blame here. I just –” Maren swallowed, thinking of Benson and the boy he desired. Thinking of the organic love that was stolen from her, as well. “I don’t have much experience with… Relationships.” A truth. “But I know I need to follow my father’s wishes.” A lie.
They continued to dance until the party grew thicker, the inhibitions lowered. The heat of the room snaked up her spine, along with her discomfort. Thankfully, Kieran had the same idea she did and suggested they head out. He replaced her champagne and she downed its contents as soon as it hit her fingers. Manners be damned. Exiting the ballroom, she wrapped her arm through his and kept it locked until they were alone in the hall.
. . .
After seeing the ensemble inside of their chambers, Maren instantly felt ill. She jerked a hand over her mouth and ran to the kitchen sink. She gripped the edge of the counter while her breathing turned ragged as her stomach rolled. She was going to be sick. She was going to be fucking sick.
Please, not tonight, Please, please, please –
But behind her she heard rustling, heard the chaotic shifting of blankets, heard the sizzling of candles being doused. Turning over her shoulder, she watched Kieran finish putting out the last of the candle. Right before the light faded, she saw that the rose petals were no longer on the bed, but on the floor. Maren caught the last bit of water being flung to the ground before he chucked the pot and then turned to her, panting.
He gave her the bed without a second thought. Before she could thank him, Kieran had discarded her suit jacket and strode towards the bathroom, leaving her with the aftermath of what had just occurred.
The rumors she had heard of people of the Vale were atrocious. That their kind was nothing but savages and rude and lived by no rules. That they bathed in blood, that they took whatever they wanted without any fallback. They were supposed to be terrifying. Uncontrollable.
So why was Kieran the only one that seemed to be on her side?
She mulled over that thought as she changed, slipping into plain cotton grey shorts with a matching shirt. Sliding into the grand bed, she eyed the ivory chair in the corner, how it seemed like they purposefully made it as uncomfortable as possible. There were also hardwood floors. No couch.
They really knew what they were doing.
Reappearing in the darkness, she watched him sink into the chair, defeated. An apology left his lips though she knew it was not for the mess he made. Not even close.
“Me too,” she whispered into the night after a long moment.
Sleep didn’t come easily, but eventually, she was swept into darkness.
. . .
Light knocking right before their door slid open pulled Maren out of her slumber. She blinked away at the brutal onslaught of light, temporarily forgetting where she was. What was expected of her.
As soon as she saw Grace, her face plummeted. Her skin felt too tight and her throat became dry. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was real, real, real, real…
Her thoughts were interrupted by Kieran’s half-hearted insult and Grace’s news. Breakfast, introductions, more relationships – her head was going to explode. Long gone were the days when she could read until dawn and sleep until the afternoon, where her biggest worry was not enough hours in the day.
Now it felt like each one would never end.
Crawling out of bed, she stood there, observing the two as they conversed. The ice lacing Kieran’s tone was unavoidable. However, Grace barely batted an eye. In fact, her face nearly looked… sympathizing.
Maren winced at the mention of her name, bringing flashbacks of their night, the dress. Thankfully, simple, plain clothing they were provided was on the menu for their outing. Then again, everything she seemed to wear here felt like it was threaded with a double meaning. Still, she strode towards the dresser, ignoring the bickering until she felt Grace’s eyes latch onto her. Maren met them, her hand half inside the drawer.
“If anyone else was to enter your quarters, I would advise against sleeping apart in the future…”
Nothing was getting past Grace. She read them easily. Too easily.
Terrified, Maren’s face blanched and she merely nodded, swallowing down bile. Only after Grace departed did she release a long, exhausted breath. She had to have slept nearly eight hours and yet her body still felt like it had been run over by a tank.
“We can share the bed, just to make them happy,” she started, snatching a pair of black, form fitting pants and a white shirt, along with fresh underwear. “I’ve shared beds with men before, Kieran, I won’t break.” Not a lie, but also not the whole truth. Things… depleted with all of her past sexual encounters before the show even really began. Anxiety would take her by storm, forbidding anything too intimate. It was why she never had a public boyfriend, for her relationships never lasted more than a month or two. Patience was not a virtue many obtained in Alynthi.
. . .
After changing and having Grace lead them to the mess hall, Maren was quickly slapped with the appetizing aroma of a plethora of smells. Bacon, eggs, smoothies, fresh bread… For the first time since she had entered the facility, she felt hungry. But, as soon as her eyes landed on the food, her appetite fizzled. She kept it safe with a plain piece of toast and jam and a serving of fruit.
The mess hall was as sterile as the rest of the facility with plain white walls, metallic tables with benches, along with holograms buzzing in the spaces above the tables depicting the seating arrangements. It didn’t take long for her to find her and Kieran’s place, for some of the names they were paired with were familiar.
Melanie Hutchins and Jeremiah Turner.
Benson Altarr and Fiona Jensen.
Maren Hylark and Kieran Sartore.
Gripping her tray, she passed Kieran a glance before she started toward their table. They were the first to arrive, which Maren took advantage of.
“Looks like we’re still the stars of the show,” she murmured under her breath to Kieran, pretending to eat as she tore apart pieces of her toast, lining her fingers with jelly. It was as if the guards didn’t even try to hide their staring. Maybe it was a fear tactic. Maybe it was her father making sure she was safe and sound.
Ha, the irony.
“Half of it is probably my fault. My father has always been a little… excessive.” She tossed a piece of bread on her tray with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what to fucking do.”
Her words didn’t go unheard. In fact, he found the opinion so reasonable that he didn’t hesitate to loosen the fabric around his neck as Grace led the two of them out of their apartment, letting it slip through his fingers and into the garbage bin on the way out the door.
The corridor was more blinding than he remembered it being. Several other couples surrounded them, heading in the same direction they were. The only difference was their interactions with each other. The way their fingers intertwined and the way they displayed affection so effortlessly. Kieran felt his stomach twist with nausea at the sight of them. So blind to their surroundings. To the fact that they were nothing short of zoo animals in cages for one sole purpose.
A curly headed boy caught Kieran’s attention. The same one from the ceremony. His words echoed in the back of his mind. Pairings that are going to be together for life, it’s genius. His head ached at the thought. He couldn’t wrap his mind around being so hopelessly stupid to believe such a thing.
Trailing slightly behind Grace and Maren, Kieran surveyed the halls they ventured through, each turn they had to make to near closer to the ballroom. Each door they passed, he wondered silently what sat behind them. If one of them maybe had an escape. If it wasn’t for Grace’s comment about a Vow Ceremony, Kieran wouldn’t have even noticed they all came to a halt at silver double doors.
Despite the curl of disgust that tightened in his stomach, he remained utterly silent, letting Maren’s growing discomfort speak for the both of them. Once Grace dismissed herself, Kieran glanced at Maren who insisted she wouldn’t be staying long. He couldn’t stop the huff that escaped his mouth. He wanted to laugh, to punch something as hard as he could. To disappear completely. None of those were options now.
Shoving open the doors, Kieran stepped through them, letting the music that was once just a vibration beneath his feet envelope them.
Standing at the top of a grand imperial staircase, Kieran stared out at the scene before him. No different from the rest of the estate. Vast amounts of white built up the ballroom, decorated with towering pillars of marble to match the floors. Polished so deeply, reflections of the various lights bounced off of them. The room was dimly lit, letting the ceilings projected lights run over the dancing bodies like crashing waves. Once the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, Kieran offered Maren an empty look before disappearing from her side. He had already taken into account that every door was guarded but one large sliding glass door at the opposite side of the room. He headed in its direction, slipping past hot bodies that laughed and sang along to the music.
Beyond the glass doors, Kieran was greeted by a large fountain with multiple falls that cascaded around it. Along the parameters were thick bushes filled with flowers of various shapes, colors and sizes. A garden. Craning his head, Kieran peered up at the sky above his head. Stars twinkled above him, the only piece of the outside world he’d seen in a while, and it was surrounded by towering walls of glass that he’d be stupid to try and climb.
“She looks rather lovely, you’re a lucky man,” a silvery voice sounded behind him.
Spinning on his heel, Kieran came face to face with the woman from the ceremony. The one to call his name and deem his fate. His eyes darkened.
“I wouldn’t call it luck,” Kieran chose his words carefully.
“You know,” she began, her fingertips grazing a flower petal. “Most people on death row would consider themselves lucky to be in your shoes right now,”
The veins in his arms protruded and he forced his hands into his pockets to keep the fists he balled up hidden. “Most people with common sense would consider it to be the same scenario,” Kieran’s tone was dangerously calm. Dr. Paddux simply gave him an eerie rose colored smile in response when a guard slid open the door behind her, his eyes shifting between the two of them.
“It almost sounds as though you’re unhappy with your pairing?” her question was anything but a question, a glint in her eyes showing him that it was a test. As if she was daring him. His jaw tightened. “We wouldn’t want any problems to arise,”
“Doctors know best,” Kieran said through clenched teeth.
“Is everything alright, Doctor?”
“Please, escort Mr. Sartore back to his partner,” she waved her hand, dismissing the two of them and Kieran used every fiber of his being to not send one of his hidden fists into the guards skull as he grabbed a hold of his arm, ushering him out of the garden and back to the ballroom. He had to keep his cool, but he doubted that after that conversation, there was any hiding his true feelings about his predicament.
Once the guard had brought Kieran back to Maren’s side and left, Kieran’s anger released itself in the form of a deep sigh, the dark circles beneath his eyes were heavier beneath the lights of the room. He had never felt more enclosed in his life, not even in his cell. All around them, he could see guards watching the two of them closely, so, without another thought, Kieran reached out and took hold of Maren’s hand, prying the champagne glass from it and setting it on a nearby table. He led her out towards the swarm of dancing couples, keeping his eyes on her and only her. In that moment, the beat went from light and happy to slow and steady. He tried to ignore it as his hand found her waist and the other intertwined their fingers. Leaning forward slightly, his lips were close to her ear.
“They’re watching us,” he began, leading their dance. “I’m not an idiot, Maren, I know you don’t want this anymore than I do. I saw . . . I saw the way you looked at me.” he brought her out in a spin, only to bring her body back into his own, her hair brushing his cheek. He had stolen a glance at the guards, their eyes still on them as they whispered between each other. He would never be able to escape if he was under surveillance. If it wasn’t the lump inside his arm, it was the intercom, Grace, the entire estate. He needed more information and until then, he couldn’t be seen as a flight risk.
After another song, the guards must have tired of watching them, letting their attention go elsewhere. Kieran dropped Maren’s hand, his body untensing slightly. All around them were people who looked genuinely happy and for a moment he wondered if they were all insane or if he was just that broken.
No. They were definitely all insane.
A passing servant with a silver platter of champagne broke Kieran’s train of thought as he swooped up two glasses and pointed towards the doors they had come in through.
“I think we’ve done our part here,” he said, handing her a glass as he guided Maren back towards the stairs. Again, he noticed guards staring at the two of them, but it wasn’t them that sent a crawling sensation up his spine. It was when he made eye contact with Dr. Paddux across the room. She smiled, lifting her glass to the two of them, but the smile did not meet her eyes.
* * *
A latch unlocking sounded as Kieran shoved the keycard into the slot of their apartment, shoving the door open, he stepped aside and let her in first, peering around for any eyes on them.
Once she was inside, he slipped in after her and shut the door behind them. The lights were off, but darkness had not greeted them. Instead flickers of light erupted throughout the room, candles of various sizes were strategically placed about the room, creating a pathway for them from the door over towards the bed. Splotches of dark circles were scattered across the floor and the top of the mattress. He knew exactly what they were. Rose petals.
Shoving the light on, Kieran ruined the effect of the candles and stormed over toward the bed, grabbing the blanket of it, he gave it a hard yank, forcing some of the candles to go out and all of the petals to fly off of it. Dropping the blanket, he glared at the scene around them, storming toward the kitchen, he ransacked the cabinets until he came across a large pot, filling it up with water, he didn’t care what mess he made at this point. It didn’t amount to the boiling pit of infuriation in his chest. With no hesitation, he dumped the water over every candle on the ground, the flames diminishing and he threw the pot to the ground with a loud bang, his chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at the new scene then Maren.
“You can have the bed,” his voice was low now, despite the display of rage moments before. Shrugging off his suit jacket, he dropped it in the garbage with his tie from before and headed to the bathroom with a new set of clothes to change.
He had reemerged wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled from dragging his fingers through it so many times as he stared down his reflection in the mirror, wondering where he had gone so hopelessly wrong.
Dropping down onto the ivory armchair near the dresser, Kieran took in his surroundings, his eyes void of emotion. Utterly cold as they ran over the unfamiliarity of it all.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said after a while of silence, not bothering to look at Maren, his eyes glued to the mess he’d made on the floor instead, but he wasn’t sorry for the mess. He was sorry she was stuck here with him, and he with her.
* * *
He had barely gotten any sleep - something not unusual for him. His eyes were slightly red when they opened up to a knocking on their door. Rubbing his face, Kieran furrowed his brows in annoyance as Grace entered looking perky as ever.
“Why don’t you just pitch up a tent at this point,” he groaned, covering his eyes from the lights as she turned them on and pursed her lips at his comment.
“Dynamics will be changing today,” she stated, ignoring his complaints. Her eyes however did linger on Kieran and Maren’s separated sleeping arrangements. “Dr. Paddux will be dividing couples into sections in order to keep communication with others healthy as well as make things a bit more manageable all together. You will be joining your new group for breakfast this morning for introductions and will then join them for dinner for the entirety of your stay in order to further survey all of your relationship needs.” her last words had almost sounded forced.
“Oh, so, now they give a shit about our needs?” Kieran snapped, shoving himself upright, his back groaning at him for being in such a position for so long. His bones popped in protest as he stretched out, glancing towards Maren with an unimpressed look toward the situation before he returned his attention to Grace. “So, what? No forced breakfast attire? Don’t you guys want Maren to look tastier than the food on our plates?” Kieran’s tone was vicious, but Grace kept her expression blank.
“Not today,” she turned towards Maren, knowing better than to speak directly to Kieran. “If anyone else was to enter your quarters, I would advise against sleeping apart in the future. I will return soon to escort you to breakfast,” her tone held a tinge of warning in it and then she was disappearing out the door.
There was once a time when Maren would parade through her home draped in the silky, fine fabrics of her mother’s dresses. Before her mother passed when Maren was only eight, she vividly remembered how devoted the woman was to her garments. Taking the utmost care of the pristine clothing, only to toss it out after wearing it once or twice. It was Maren, Lydia Hylark’s only daughter, that convinced her to keep the discarded dresses. For her daughter to hopefully wear one day. Whenever she fell in love.
That dream was short-lived. After her mother passed in childbirth, along with her newborn infant, Maren refused to touch anything that belonged to her, save for the delicate, crescent-shaped necklace she consistently wore. A gift Maren received on the last birthday she had with her mother. While the woman was materialistic, Lydia was never cruel or unkind. She had a warmth about her, something intoxicating and addictive and when she spoke to you, she made you feel like royalty.
Gazing at the gown she was required to wear tonight made Maren think of her mother. Of how much she would have loved to see her daughter in such attire, and yet would have wailed furiously if she knew of the reasoning behind it. The repopulation efforts were created a few years after Lydia passed, once Mikael realized how sick and twisted the world was. It took something horrific to happen to him personally in order for his efforts to make it known across the entire country, thus electing him as President. With terms now increased to six years, and after Mikael just secured another re-election last year, his desire to make a lasting impression was more powerful than ever.
Staring back at Maren was fabric so white it could have put swan feathers to shame. Not only was the bodice sleek and mature, but also revealing enough that she felt a chill snake down her spine. Strutting around and putting on a mask was one thing, something she was mostly used to by now, but doing so in an outfit that was completely out of her comfort zone was a whole other feat within itself. The diamonds sparkled like stars against the thin, mesh fabric, offering her the only bit of modesty. A slit that would nearly reach her hip bone was also garnished with the glimmering jewels towards the top, sheathing the upper part of her thigh.
She also couldn’t ignore how much it looked like a damn wedding dress.
Needing a moment of reprieve, her eyes shifted to the suit Kieran would wear. The shape would be flattering, that much she could easily tell. The dark material glistened in the low light, a drastic change against the pale room. As if it didn’t belong. A stain in disguise. Maren couldn’t help but resonate with the feeling. The boy’s eyes hovered upon the suit with clear distaste. As he turned over his shoulder, strutting toward the kitchen, she had half a thought to follow him to grab a shot of whiskey. Or perhaps several. She didn’t dally with alcohol that often, but tonight was definitely... Fitting.
Sighing, she made to follow Kieran, only to overhear the popping of a cork, the clinking of glassware.
Ah. His mind had drifted to the same place, it seemed. The similarity unnerved her. Maren didn’t want to have an inkling of a connection to this man. It would mean that her father was right.
She pressed her lips together and watched him grab his own full glass. Her eyes flicked to his in a moment of weakness before she followed suit. The aroma of the wine whacked in her in the face and Maren met his cheers half-heartedly before she brought the glass to her lips. Earthy, rich, with a hint of spice. Without a second thought, she downed another hearty, perhaps unsuitable, sip for the President’s Daughter.
Glancing at him from over the rim of her glass, started towards the bathroom, hoping that a scalding shower could wash away some of her worries. It was a nearly empty wish, but her body needed to… Do something.
“I’d look for more of that,” she started, jerking her chin towards the bottle. “We’re going to need it.”
She then shut the bathroom door. Locked it.
. . .
The shower, in fact, did not help.
However, the wine did.
She spent the past hour attempting to hide the fear and worry behind her eyes with cosmetics and skincare, as well as styling her honey locks into a charming, appropriate twist. However, after realizing that she did not have her hair to hide behind once she pulled on the revealing dress, Maren almost tossed it in the waste bin. Debated on chucking the remnants of her wine on it, as well. The dress tucked and sculpted her body in a way she did not normally view it. Curvy… Womanly… Seductively.
Thankfully, the room wasn’t unnervingly quiet, for Kieran was mumbling in the bathroom, almost fully dressed save for the tie he was attempting to work through. He looked good, unfortunately. The suit fit him perfectly, just like her dress. As if it was pulling her to mull over her discomfort one more, Maren’s eyes found her reflection in the large mirror that sat on top of the dresser.
As well as Kieran’s.
He spoke and the tension in her shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly. Something she couldn’t quite name glazed over his eyes as he gazed at her in the mirror, though it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as staring at herself. “They had my measurements for years, unfortunately.” Her voice was hollow, but she couldn't ignore how his compliment made the rock in her stomach a little lighter. “Thank you, though. You as well.” She paused, letting her eyes linger on his. “And honestly? I would lose the tie.”
Kieran then drew closer, but she felt rooted in place. The rich aroma of the red wine hung in the air, in the space between them. She didn’t hate it.
“This is stupid, right?”
She sighed. Yes, this was more than stupid. But this was also her only option. Their only option.
It was either succumb to the rules. Or die. It didn’t matter how pretty the bow was, the entire situation was focused on nothing but control. Over everything.
Her mind wasn’t allowed to wander for too long though, for Kieran’s gentle touch was suddenly woven throughout her hair. Maren’s whole body immediately tensed and her eyes grew wide. Even her face paled, despite the bit of blush she wore. A deep part of her mind expected unwarranted touches… A bristly mouth to kiss her skin like daggers. A wiry voice to threaten her in the most horrific ways... Nightmares crawled to the surface, memories she had forced away.
She wanted to scream.
But no, Kieran merely unclipped her barrette and let her blonde hair fall against her back in loose waves. Exactly how she had wanted to wear it, earlier.
A muscle in her jaw feathered and she parted her lips, a ‘thank you’ gracing her tongue.
Interrupting her, their chamber door slid open, revealing Grace in the same attire as earlier. Her face quickly warmed as she saw the pair in their finery However, Maren didn’t fail to notice the furrow in Grace’s brow as she saw Maren’s obvious discomfort. Painting aloofness like a proper steward, she gestured for them to follow. “You both look absolutely marvelous. Truly visionary.”
Maren could only nod as she followed Grace out of the apartment and into the illuminated hall, which was also filled with more pairings, all dressed in various shades of white and black.
Grace spoke promptly as they walked. “Please, do let me know if you two would like to request a vow ceremony.”
Those words almost made Maren stop in her tracks. Startled, she cleared her throat. “I… A vow ceremony?”
Grace nodded, paying no mind to Maren’s slip up. “Yes, Ms. Hylark. Some pairings feel more comfortable being intimate after. Though, it also is seen as just a formality for others. Adding such a thing does not discount your sublimity for each other.”
Maren’s eyes turned to Kieran just for a moment. “N-no,” she started, swallowing her emotions. “That isn’t necessary, Grace. Thank you.”
Grace only nodded before gesturing to a pair of silver doors. Her pace stalled and she held her hands behind her back dutifully. “Very well, then. Please, enjoy your night. I will head back to your chambers to prepare your room for your return.” What she meant by that, Maren didn’t want to know. “However, I will be available all night.” Bowing her head, Grace passed her one last soft smile. “You look beautiful. As do you, Mr. Sartore. Congratulations again.”
And with that, she was gone, leaving Maren alone with Kieran, facing the doors that would unveil the party. She heard of this event before from her father, but only in passing. Simple appetizers would be served along with champagne and an orchestra. There would be dancing. Expectations to be upheld.
“I, um, won’t be staying long,” Maren said, though her eyes were still transfixed on the doors. A pairing slipped in, allowing the chatter and music to escape through briefly, until it was shut out once more. “Feel free to do what you’d like.” Her voice gained more footing with every passing word. He wasn't chained to her.
“Well,” she started, realizing that she couldn’t delay the inevitable. Turning to Kieran, she nodded her head toward the party. “Shall we get this over with?”
When Kieran was much younger, he would venture out into the thick forest behind his home daily. Pretending to sword-fight imaginary monsters with sticks he’d found beneath the fallen pine needles. He could still recall a day that he had been out in those woods when he stumbled upon a bird in a clearing. Its features glistened with ruby-red patches at their peak. He could remember how its wings batted against its small body as it tried to escape Kieran’s presence when he was spotted.
Panic engulfed the creature as it hopped further and further away, eventually turning on Kieran, attempting to face the monster it must have thought he was. Kieran had simply watched the bird as it cawed threatening bellows toward him. His wing was broken and although it was still able to go on living, it had probably never felt more trapped in its life.
Alynthi was Kieran’s broken wing.
Staring back at him now was a framed quote about family. Kieran studied it, darkness clouding his expression. He had half a mind to shatter it against the wood floor when Maren’s voice cut through his silence.
He turned on her, “And whose fault is that?” his eyes bored into her own. Wondering if her father ever gave her a history lesson on how the Vale became in the first place. How they closed off a majority of their society out of fear and judgment alone. Banished the imperfect while keeping the perfect cookie-cutting snobs tucked inside the walls.
Kieran watched as she slumped against the dresser, but made no move to comfort her. If she thought she was miserable, she could join the club.
A hollow knock against their door made Kieran’s gaze flicker towards it, his body tensing up once more as he came back to the present. With hands full, a young woman let herself in, informing the two of them of yet another ceremony. He silently wondered if they decided everything in their lives with ceremonies. What need was there for a president if they could just throw a fucking political tea party instead? His hands tightened into fists at his sides while she introduced herself. The idea of staying in this place. A confined space. Something that drove him mad, but not just that it was confined, that it was confined with Maren. A stranger. A person that until today he had never laid eyes on or spoken to; someone who lived within the walls of Alynthi and had been fed information about his life, his society, and the people he grew up with. A world she had never experienced. A world she clearly judged. How they had been deemed even remotely compatible was beyond him.
Then came the intercom. A fucking intercom. A device that quite literally picked up their voices. If he hadn’t already felt violated, he sure did now. At least in prison, they had the decency to be outright with their presence.
When the door shut behind the woman, leaving just the two of them once more, Kieran stared at the intercom as though his stare alone would destroy the equipment. “Bullshit,” his voice shook with rage, his eyebrows set in a permanent scowl that traveled over towards Maren unzipping one of the bags splayed on the bed. The one bed in the entire place. The bed they were meant to share. To make love in. His gut felt like an empty hole as he forced his legs to carry him toward her to open up his own bag. Inside revealed a pressed three-piece suit made up of obsidian, the only splashes of color being the white button-up he’d wear beneath it all and the wine tie that he could already envision hanging himself with.
The muscles in his jaw feathered, and he shifted his ice-colored gaze to find Maren utterly silent, her complexion paling as she studied her attire. Her dress was a companion to his own wardrobe. Linen was intricately woven together like veils made up of snow itself. A plunging neckline would undoubtedly expose a majority of her chest and abdomen, the only thing attempting to conceal her skin would be the glittering cluster of diamonds woven into a transparent mesh.
Kieran stepped away from the bed. The clothes. Her. His attention needed to go elsewhere. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to contain his building anger. Crossing the room towards the kitchen, he began tearing open several cabinets, searching them one by one until he came across precisely what he was looking for.
Reaching up, he retrieved a sealed bottle of wine. Of course, it had to be wine. Kieran placed the bottle on the small island table behind him and began hunting for the opener in several drawers before coming across it. Although he had plenty of alcohol in the Vale, it hadn’t ever been something like this. Rarely ever wine, but judging by the bottle's design and the aroma that hit his nose as he pried free the cork, he knew it hadn’t been cheap.
“I don’t know about you,” Kieran grabbed a glass, hesitated, then grabbed another. “But if I have to put on that god-damned suit and unwillingly go to two ceremonies in one day, I rather not be sober for at least one of them.”
Heavy pours filled the wine glasses more than half full, leaving barely any left in the bottle itself. Snatching one of them up, he peered over at Maren, eyebrow raising with a silent question before he offered her an empty cheer, bringing the liquid to his lips.
* * *
Never. Never had he worn a suit in his life.
Staring back at himself in the mirror, Kieran’s nostrils flared with irritation as he attempted for not the second, but the fifth time to knot his tie. His struggles had caused his suit to crease in certain areas and he could feel his stomach tightening. He was going to punch something. Someone.
His chest rose and fell in defeat, letting the useless piece of fabric hang crooked and crinkled around his neck. “What use does this actually have!?” A rhetorical question as he stormed out of the bathroom and back towards the bedroom. He had only made it a couple of feet when he spotted her.
Standing beside the dresser mirror, Maren suddenly looked smaller than she had moments before. She had slipped on the dress already, her hands smoothing out the fabric as she stared at herself with a look of absolute horror written on her face. He met her gaze in the mirror, the silence unbearably loud.
He cleared his throat, “A little unnerving how well our clothes fit,” his tone carried a hint of sarcasm. “You look fine though,” he offered, his brows creasing for a moment at his own words. Fine? Really? “Good, even,” he added, his lips pursing at each vowel he spewed. It was the wine, he convinced himself, shaking his head. He drew a bit closer to her side. “This is stupid, right?”
He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure more.
Kieran averted his eyes momentarily, refusing to show any further discomfort he was feeling to her. Something he did often. Tugged up walls around himself out of habit. Out in the Vale, you could never be too sure of anyone. Not even the people you thought you could trust more than yourself.
Grey-blue eyes lingered on her hair. She had attempted to put it up and his nose scrunched briefly. He reached up nonchalantly, slipping her hair free from its restraints and letting it cascade back down over her shoulders in waves. Better.
“Don’t try so hard,” he murmured, capturing her gaze once more in the mirror before turning on his heel.
The clock was ticking faster than normal he thought as he watched the hands stretch closer and closer to seven. Then the door opened again.
There was no denying the weight of Kieran’s gaze as it swept across her frame, nearly making her stance waver even more so. She had felt eyes like his far too many times. Assessing. Judging. There was a hardness to his features, as if each cavern and line of the boy was carved from steel and she was facing the brunt of it. Heat also slithered through, but it was nothing like the flames that the previous matches held. No, this one seemed to hold no sense of passion. Or desire.
Part of her was thankful for it. The other part nearly shrunk away in fear.
And then his large, calloused hand wrapped around her own, tugging her towards the hall as if her feet were made of lead. Maren followed him despite every warning shooting off inside her mind. There was nothing soft about this man and she didn’t know what to make of it. Once she left the stage, her life would no longer be just hers.
Thankfully, once they were out of view, he dislodged his fingers from hers and she practically yanked her hand to her side. Yes, Kieran had dragged her away from one Hell, but only to face another. She swallowed thickly and continued forward, toward the double doors that unveiled the facility. Her new home.
What a warm fucking welcome it was.
As Kieran spoke, Maren’s head whipped towards his, taking in his frigid, sharp voice. At his statement, she scoffed. “Yes,” she confirmed, voice dry as the tiniest bit of strength began to fill the void.
Unfortunately, his next words were also obvious. Painfully.
They want me to fuck the President’s daughter.
Mikael’s daughter.
At that, her face hardened, but her voice did not falter. “You know, just Maren also works.” There were other names she could have called him, surely resorting to mere titles would only worsen this… arrangement. Still, her stomach rolled at the truth that left his lips.
Soulmate. She would have to produce a child with this man. Most likely multiple.
As they left the illuminated hall and walked through the doors, they were immediately greeted by an onslaught of scientists that worked at the facility. She was handed a plethora of items: a key card, maps, first aid kits, and, to her dismay, pregnancy and ovulation tests along with a pack filled with other basic necessities. Maren’s face immediately heated but, before she could sit too long on the thought, a woman with kind eyes quickly pulled her aside. Grabbing her arm, she held a device against Maren’s wrist. “Congratulations, Miss Hylark. This will only sting for a moment.”
Before Maren could object, the woman pressed the nozzle of the device against her skin and pulled the trigger. A sharp, stinging sensation shot through her arm and Maren let out a rush of air, quickly pulling her throbbing arm to her chest. “What was —” she started, but was then interrupted by a commotion behind her.
Kieran. And another guard. Practically going for each other’s throats.
Furrowing her brows, she started towards the battling pair, but her partner laid off as soon as the guard unleashed a glowing taser and pointed it at Kieran’s chest. Watching the boy’s ice-shard eyes ignite, she nearly jumped out of her skin as Kieran then plucked the key card from her limp hold and started down the hall. Leaving the attack behind him, as if it was nothing but dust on his shoulder.
The guard looked at Maren, gave her a sympathetic look, before jerking his chin towards Kieran, who had almost rounded the corner.
Reaching their shared chamber, she peered around his broad shoulders as he slowly entered. More pristine, white walls greeted them. A large, king-sized bed sat against one wall, while an ivory armchair and sleek dresser rested against another. There was a television, a small kitchenette, and a full-sized bathroom with twin sinks. Despite the spotless chamber, Kieran’s words tainted the space like a dark cloud. Walking over to the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress, Maren rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. At the bright lights. At the way she would forever live the rest of her life underneath a microscope.
“Says the one who just attacked an armed guard,” Maren muttered, rolling out the tension in her neck. She hadn’t been able to get a proper look at her new partner, so she took the opportunity while he seemed distracted. Tanned skin, warm brown hair, eyes that looked as if he hadn’t had a proper night of rest in years, yet with a gaze that was damn near electric. There was a ruggedness about him she wasn’t used to and, if the murmurs in the crowd hadn’t spoiled it for her, she would have been able to decipher his upbringing easily.
“You’re from the Vale,” she started, assessing him as he had done so to her only minutes ago. “Surely you’re used to the bizarre.” Never in her life had she been so… blunt, even rude. Her father would be appalled at her lack of manners. Then again, there was a lot she was shocked about. Etiquette was the least of her worries.
Needing to busy her hands, Maren stood up from the cushioned bed and started towards the dresser. Examining its contents, she noticed that clothes had already been provided for them. Basic articles like shirts of various fabrics, pants, undergarments… All in their correct sizes.
Once again, the weight of her expectations nearly forced her to crumble. Maren gripped the dresser until her knuckles turned pale, and yet her legs still trembled. Her eyes still burned with the threat of tears. No, there was no way she could do this.
Suddenly, a knock at the door broke through her hysteria and, before either of them made towards the entrance, the door slid open, revealing a woman in the typical grey, housekeeping attire. She entered quietly, carrying two garment bags. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I have your garments for the ceremony tonight. Please be ready by 7 pm and I will be back to escort you.” She was a slight woman, probably not much older than Maren herself, though there was a tiredness to her eyes that made her age practically double. Her coffee colored hair was pulled back into a tight knot that rested at the nape of her neck. “My name is Grace. I was assigned to your chambers so please, let me know if there is anything at all I can get you to make your stay more comfortable.” She gestured towards the discrete, silver button that rested by the door. On top of it was an intercom. Tucking her hands behind her back, Grace let her eyes rest on Maren’s for a prolonged moment. There was a kindness in them – one that made the qualms in her stomach lessen, if only slightly. Not trusting herself with words, Maren merely nodded her thanks before Grace took her leave.
It was just her and Kieran again. Alone. She wondered if she would ever grow used to it.
The garment bags that rested on the bed kept pulling her attention. Carefully she made her way over toward them before unzipping hers. Its contents made her back go rigid. Made her throat bob.
He couldn't remember the exact day it was that the frigid water expelling from the rusted showerhead had no longer affected him. Hard pellets of water pummeled the exposed skin of his back when a nearby guard slammed his baton against a piece of metal, ordering him to get out.
"Miss me already?" Kieran retorted, grabbing the towel from the guard who refused to make any form of eye contact with the prisoner. A slow grin formed on the corner of his lips when the guard made no remark. He wrapped the cotton fabric around his waist, letting the guard lead him toward a pile of neatly folded clothes.
"Get dressed," the guard finally said when Kieran threw him a side-long glance of confusion at the attire piled on a nearby bench. "You passed the tests, Sartore, you're going home,"
The words had barely registered in Kieran's mind. He was going home. He never knew it had been possible to miss such a destroyed old house before. The smell of sawdust from the deteriorating wood and the sound of gunshots in the distance. He had been in the Vale prison for five years. He had been just nineteen years old when he committed the murder. For a brief moment, Kieran saw eyes, a mixture of cerulean and silver, matching his own.
The memory was quickly suppressed as he dressed. Several other inmates glowered at Kieran as he followed behind the guard that was guiding him toward his freedom. Instead of averting his gaze, he stared back at each of them as he passed. He had seen that anger before. The blazing infuriation behind their eyes. A silent threat. He had seen it in the mirror.
* * *
Kieran's freedom had been short-lived. He knew that he was being tested on in the prison. Every day had been a fight for his spot on the leaderboard. They promised freedom. They didn't promise this.
"Now you look like a civilized human being," an older woman pressed down the corners of his collar, smoothing out any wrinkles as he stood in a plain room with nothing but a large wardrobe, a mirror, and a table full of hair supplies. She had shaved his face clean of any stubble, trimmed his overgrown hair, and forced him into an outfit he wished he'd murdered the maker of.
He hadn't stepped more than a mere five feet outside of the prison doors when a large black van pulled in front of the entrance and several men exited, ushering him into the vehicle with little time to waste. Although he fought hard, it hadn't been a fair fight, his arms and legs were restrained and he had felt a sharp pinch against the side of his neck. Everything went dark. Now he was. . . here.
"You still haven't answered my question," Kieran was growing more and more impatient by the minute, his annoyance building. The woman clucked her tongue at him, dismissing his obvious discontent.
She began packing things up neatly around him, “We are in Alynthi, beyond the walls of the Vale”
No, he thought. The last place he wanted to be was Alynthi, he would have gladly gone back to prison if it meant that he didn’t have to spend another moment in the god-forsaken place. His face must have paled noticeably, the servant woman swatted him with a towel, her forehead crinkling with disapproval.
“Be thankful, young man, you were given a second chance at life,” she insisted and he wondered what it must have been like living life so obliviously. “Not only life, but love too,” she smiled now. An eerie, ignorant smile.
“I had a better chance at love back in prison,” Kieran stood from his seat, looking down at the monochromatic attire he wore. He looked like a prick.
The servant refused to indulge his complaints with any response. Instead, he began cattling him out the door and into a maze of white opulent halls with lights that could have been seen from beyond the wall. Squinting ahead, Kieran followed the shorter woman as she practically sprinted left and right, leading him in what felt like circles when the hall emerged into a vast room filled with shuffling bodies. There had been no room for individuality it seemed, they had all been clad in the same exact uniforms, dressed up like the dolls they were.
The servant woman gave Kieran a shove forward and he glowered over his shoulder at her, but she was quick to disappear down the hall, probably getting ready to shave some other sorry soul.
Despite being used to having people stare at him with looks of distaste, the number of people that had turned and assessed him only to crinkle their noses was almost impressive. Like they were bloodhounds, bred to seek out filthy animals such as himself. Outsiders. Dwellers of the Vale.
Slow strides carried Kieran to an open spot in the crowd, instead of giving anyone the time of day with his returned glare, he surveyed the front of the room. The large steel plate of the wall, the holographs that flashed before it. His gaze had finally settled on the main stage, shining marble floors kissed by the reflection of lights cast in every direction. A clicking of heels could be heard echoing closer and closer until a woman emerged, an air of sophistication and wealth shrouded her. The crowd seemed to go wild - at least a good majority of it had. Kieran was beginning to wonder what sort of water they must have been drinking here. He made a mental note to not try any. They were completely insane.
“What’s going on,” Kieran finally asked the male standing beside him. The boy had a faint layer of freckles peppering the bridge of his nose and his hair was a mess of dirty-blonde curls that sprung when he turned to look at Kieran.
“Pairing Ceremony,” he nodded with his chin to the woman speaking. “There’s one every year. Dr. Paddux calls out carefully tested soulmates, pairings that will be together for life, it’s genius,” he smiled up at her like she was some sort of God.
“Painfully romantic,” Kieran sneered, shifting his gaze away from the boy before he strangled him.
If they truly thought that he was going to be part of some fucked up ritual he had no idea existed until now, they had another thing coming. Kieran turned on his heel, shoving bodies apart to make a path in the wave of people. Once he had reached the end, his eyes darted for a door. Any sort of door that could get him as far away from the place as possible. In a far corner of the room, he could see through a pair of windows. The outside world. He stepped forward, then another when he was cut off by a larger body.
“Back in your place,” the man's voice was deep and guttural.
“Get out of my way, you literally tree,” Kieran snapped, but another man came up behind him, twice the size of the other. The muscles in his jaw feathered and then with a sound of defeat, Kieran turned around and braced himself for the torment. If he couldn’t get out here, he’d find another way. He’d play their stupid game but by his own rules.
* * *
It was hard to say what was more miserable. Watching people who wholeheartedly believed they had found their soulmate or listening to the crowd clap in response. Like watching a train wreck - only he was strapped to the front.
Several moments had passed, and Kieran beginning to grow so bored, he had stopped listening completely. Almost positive his name wouldn’t be spoken for quite some time. It was only when he stole a glance up at the wall behind Dr. Paddux lit up with his face that he stiffened. From across the room, the crowd split for a young woman with blonde hair as she made it up to the podium. Kieran forced his legs to move forward as everyone turned to him next, parting for him too. Muscles shifted uncomfortably beneath his skin as he ascended the stairs to meet the mystery girl in the middle like he’d seen many do before them.
Unlike her, Kieran didn’t stare at the ground. He assessed what was in front of him. He always had. Observant as a hawk. Barely able to truly see her features, he took in what he could from the shell she showed on the outside. Her knotted-up fists at her sides, the straightness of her back. She looked like she might snap like a rubber band from all the tension in her body. She had been the only person that had stood on the stage with such distress. Could she truly have a brain of her own? He thought to himself as he watched her, ignoring any words the woman beside them was saying. It was only when she touched the girl - Maren Hylark - that he tuned in once more, just in time to capture Maren’s gaze in his own.
Seafoam blues met his cobalt storms in a silent greeting. Fear. He could practically smell it on her. He felt the way her body language screamed out for help. Shifting his gaze away from her own, he let it travel to her hand. Reaching out, he took it in his own, tugging her down the hall. He didn’t want to be up there any longer than she did, but he had a feeling if he didn’t start walking, she’d pass out at his feet. Clapping erupted behind them as they drew further away from the crowd and once they were out of sight, he let go of her hand, releasing a held sigh.
“You’re Mikael’s daughter,” the thought had been swirling in his mind since he heard her name in the microphone. Hylark wasn’t a name that went unnoticed - no matter what side of the wall you were on. “They want me to fuck the President’s daughter,” he nodded, mostly to himself while a couple more servants began handing them unit keys, maps of the center, and a couple of other supplies stuffed in bags, but not before they grabbed each of their wrists, taking some sort of gun and zapping it against their skin. A sharp pain radiated through Kieran’s arm and he scowled, a growl practically ripping from him and he lunged for the man who quickly retrieved a taser, threatening him with it. Kieran’s chest rose and fell, anger boiling his blood and he looked down at his arm, a small lump beneath the skin. Turning towards Maren, Kieran’s jaw clenched and he snatched the keys from her hand, storming in the direction of their unit.
Several of the units looked the same, there was truly no such thing as identity here. Not only that, but he had a device in his body, his home was beyond the wall, he was dressed like a male nun and he was expected to live with a stranger for the rest of his fucking life?
Shoving open the door to the complex, Kieran raised his hands to his hair, tugging at the hickory strands as he tried to comprehend all that happened in such a short amount of time. Prison. He wanted to go back to prison. Turning to face Maren who was a few paces behind him, he shook his head.
One: the white, mock neck shirt she wore was stifling, the fabric crisp enough that it assaulted her ears every time she adjusted her arms. It matched the formfitting pants that were also nearly as constricting. In a way, she found the whole assortment trivial. Pure and modest, when this whole ordeal was anything but.
Two: she was fairly certain she was going to vomit. Or faint. Whichever came first.
Her discomfort was apparently less contained than she had hoped, for the girl standing next to her cut her dark eyes in Maren’s direction disapprovingly before straightening her posture. She wondered if the young woman even knew who she was glaring at. However, Mare immediately felt guilty for even thinking something so arrogant. It didn’t matter whose daughter she was, for she ended up in the exact same position as the other woman.
Waiting to sign her life away – something she hadn’t even felt ownership of to begin with.
The room was blinding, sheathed in high-powered fluorescent lights that matched the uniforms of all four hundred participants. Rows upon rows of statuesque men and women between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-nine filled the grand, sleek room. Despite the large crowd, the air was silent. Sterile. The other participants seemed to appreciate the honor and importance of the ceremony – how their lives were now saved, despite the fact that they were nothing more than mere cattle. Some of them perhaps didn’t know any better, if they came from outside the walls, also known as the Vale. Their world was riddled with disease, corruption, rebellion, and chaos. Maybe becoming … this was better than the life they had known.
Once again, guilt crept across Maren’s mind, filled with thorns that pricked at her with every passing second.
“Felix Attal and Helena Jacobson,” Dr. Padux announced, her face neutral despite the flicker of achievement in her eyes. Her neat, slicked back bun of pale blonde hair nearly matched the uniform the participants wore. The population reset was her idea – taking the most genetically advanced and healthy individuals of all Manterra, the continent that was once called North America, and using them to create a new wave of humanity. One that would not fall prey to the shortcomings of the new world. Elite in almost every way. It was no surprise that a majority of the participants chosen hailed from Alynthi, where survival wasn’t a guessing game. Like the girl next to her, for instance. However, Mare did notice a few that stuck out within the rows of white. Ones that looked just as nervous as she did, despite growing up in completely separate societies.
Oh, the irony.
Two bodies ascending the half-moon of stairs, up towards Padux on the stage, caught Maren’s attention. The boy had dark, warm skin, while the girl had hair of fire. Their eyes met and Mare swore she saw sparks ignite between the pair. Why wouldn’t there be? They were a perfect match. Soulmates. The ones who would help save Manterra.
She wondered what would transpire between her own match. Perhaps a tsunami of dread. Maybe even a disastrous landslide. Anything but sparks. Please.
Felix and Helena joined hands, bowed, and turned towards the long hall that sat at the back of the stage, ready to face their new life. Together.
For the sake of humanity.
Yes, Maren was certainly going to be sick.
She felt her face pale as a cool sweat collected on the nape of her neck. She tried to swallow the large lump that rested in her throat, only to practically erupt into a coughing fit. Once again, the girl at her side cut her a glare. “Fucking Savages,” she muttered, but with enough gusto for Maren to overhear her.
Schooling her features, the president’s daughter reigned in her discomfort. The girl thought she was from beyond the wall, that was how ridiculous she was acting.
“Melanie Hutchins and Jeremiah Turner,” came Dr. Padux again.
With a sharp grin and an aura as if she were chosen to be the next ruler of Alynthi, the girl that had just insulted Maren took a step forward before flawlessly maneuvering her way through the precise lines of participants. The man that met her on the stage was just as beautiful as she was. Where Melanie had jet black hair cut into a sharp bob, the man wore a head of hair so gold it could have been mistaken for a crown. His smile was white and confident and they joined hands with ease. They acted as if they already were acquaintances, Perhaps they were. While Alynthi seemed like a grand city to Maren, in reality, it was quite small. Secluded.
The newly appointed pair left smiling. A pep in their step.
Fantastic.
Padux grinned a pristine smile to the large audience as she gripped her podium lightly before swiping on the tablet embedded into the metal to reveal the next match. Behind her, the empty wall erased the holograph that revealed the faces of each match. Melanie and Jeremiah flickered, their photos practically taunting Maren, before they dissolved, just as the couple did as they made their way down the hall.
As if she had known exactly where the daughter of Mikael Hylark stood, Dr. Padux met Maren’s eyes.
Oh no…
Oh God no…
“Maren Hylark,” Padux announced as the image of Mare’s face flashed behind her. There was no compassion in the older woman’s eyes – only triumph. A selfless sense of pride.
Maren’s jaw clenched and her stomach swirled as hundreds of eyes swooped toward her. Whispers spread like wildfire amongst the crowd – wondering who the lucky bastard would be to nail the president’s daughter. Their words only made her stomach turn sourer, made the sweat accumulating across her body spread faster. Taking a few deep, much needed breaths through her nose, Maren cautiously stepped out of line and made her way towards the stage, eyes down, hands clenched at her sides. Padux cleared her throat as she prepared to announce the male she would be chained to for the rest of her life. The one she would damn near be forced to procreate with. To… touch.
Heat pricked behind her eyes, but she kept moving. She had to.
How her father allowed this to happen… She had no idea. Then again, the man knew her on a surface level only. Nothing deeper, for that was where her waters turned dark and murky. No, the president of Manterra didn’t have time to dive into treacherous territory. Not even his only daughter’s.
“Kieran Sartore.”
The name felt like a punch to her gut and Mare nearly tripped over her feet as she continued the trek to the stage. She still refused to look up and meet the eyes of her supposed “mate”, as Padux called them. The boy’s name wasn’t familiar at all and, judging by the whispers of confusion she heard spreading through the crowd, neither did the others belonging to Alythni.
However, one harsh whisper did stick out to her.
“Fucking Savage.”
Someone beyond the wall? A boy from the Vale?
She reached the stairs and Maren climbed each one slowly so she would not topple over. She needed to hold her composure for just a bit longer. Then again, after she escaped the crowd, she would be left with a whole new feat. Facing him.
Facing Kieran Sartore.
Reaching the stage, she still refused to look at her match and kept her eyes straight forward instead, finally facing the plethora of participants. They stared at her in awe and then at her match with a multitude of expressions she could not decipher.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Padux whispered as she leaned towards her. Flicking her eyes to the blonde woman, Maren forced a faint smile across her lips, a mask she learned how to wear too well. Padux touched her shoulder gently with frigid hands before escorting her toward the long, white hallway.
She needed to look at him, she knew this. She needed to make her father proud. Needed to put on a brave face.
Swallowing down the nerves that were now practically bursting out of her, she took one more deep breath, squared her shoulders, and turned to meet her fate.
Yo yo yo yo
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Knowing looks flashed across Benson and Fiona’s faces at Maren’s dull reply. They didn’t pry, leaving Kieran to look down as the skin of her hand brushed his own, giving it a squeeze in return. As she dismissed herself from the table, Kieran instinctively rose as well, catching onto her body language.
As they crossed the threshold of the mess hall, Maren’s legs seemed to kick into a brisk walk, nearly leaving him in the dust. He quickened his pace, following after her despite not knowing where she was truly headed. Expecting to round the corner, they had come to a halt and before Kieran could register anything, she was grabbing his hand and tugging him with her inside of a janitorial closet, shutting the door behind them.
Now, shrouded in darkness and the smell of chemicals, the sound of Maren’s heavy breathing filled the room around them and though he could barely see her in front of him, he could feel her. His mind could picture her face in front of him. The small room was now filled with the turmoil that roiled her insides and he could sense it rolling off of her. The panic.
When he had first met her and been made aware she was Hylark’s daughter, the last thing he had expected from her was that she would be this disturbed by what was happening. He figured like her father she would want nothing more than to please everyone, to follow the rules happily. He had judged her too quickly. She wasn’t brainwashed like many of the others, he knew that now, and yet, he hadn’t known her enough to want to include her in his plan of escaping. He had always been a work alone type of guy, especially out in the Vale, but now, as they stood merely inches apart, as she melted before him in the darkness of a closet, he knew it would eat at him. If he escaped and she didn’t. She was feeling all the things he let boil inside, only his presented itself as anger. She at least had the strength to show it, despite that moment being inside a cleaning supply room with him.
Releasing a low sigh, Kieran reached out slowly, feeling the air until his fingers brushed the backs of each of her hands. He used them as his guide as he gently brushed his fingertips up her arms until they reached her face. The only light being a small crack in the door, he could see glimpses of her glassy sea gaze as he lifted her chin.
“Then you don’t have to,” he began, his voice low and he thought over his next words carefully before finally letting them out. “I’m going to get us out of here,” a bold promise, but a still a promise.
As a tear slipped down her face, he felt it hit his thumb and brushed it away before dropping his hands. “I’ve been planning an escape since I was placed here, I suppose a little cargo wouldn’t hurt,” his voice, although still low, had a playful tone to it. The playfulness didn’t last long though, he lifted his hand, running it through his hair as his mind wandered.
“It’s going to take some time, and we’re going to have to play a part,” he leaned his back against one of the walls. “They know how I feel about this. . . situation. What they don’t know is how you feel. That is the one advantage we have right now against them. Until we can convince them that their stupid game is working, they’re going to be watching us. I’m not here to find love, okay? We just need to make them happy, and then we can get out of here. If you can help me, I will not leave you behind. We can cross the wall together.” In the end. He needed her. For any of it to work. He needed her to be brave, or else things would go south quickly.
Deciding to use their privacy to the fullest he added, “If they’re going to expect us to do these tasks, we’re going to have to get to know each other whether we want to or not. I’m not saying any of this is ideal, but as soon as we are behind our doors, we don’t have to pretend, just when we have eyes. Can you do that?”
* * *
They had returned to their room when the coast was clear. Now sat at opposite sides of the room as they waited for Benson and Fiona to arrive at their door. Kieran had already begun pregaming, managing to find a bottle of bourbon hidden with the wine. He stared down at the amber liquid at the bottom of his glass before downing the remainder of it, letting it burn down his throat when a knocking came at the door.
Slipping off the island stool, he sauntered toward the door, opening it to reveal the pair, a small smile on Fiona’s face as she greeted them.
“Who needs to get drunk?” Benson peeked over toward Maren, a grin on his face and they slipped out the door, heading toward the bar. At least he thought it was just going to be a bar. As they neared the area, he found that half of it was outdoors and half wasn’t. It was much bigger than he anticipated too. Music vibrated against his feet and as they entered the dimly lit structure, lights and smoke flashed across a dancefloor. Blinking, Kieran suggested they start at the outdoor bar.
As they found their seats, Benson ordered them all shots of tequila to start the night and Kieran grimanced as it was slid toward him. His nose crinkling, Benson slapped him on the back and rose his shot glass.
“Here’s to our sorry asses,” he announced and they tipped them back, Fiona coughing at the taste of the potent alcohol entering her mouth. Kieran groaned, shoving the glass away before ordering himself a whisky instead.
Peering over his shoulder, he scanned the area for guards, there hadn't been as many as the ball, but still, eyes lingered. Shifting his gaze back to the group, Kieran tried not to look stiff as his arm slid around Maren, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair that cascaded down her shoulders. He gave her a knowing look, before forcing his gaze on Benson who began expressing his love for dancing. A dangerous territory in Kieran's mind.
M A R E N
His confidence, no matter how strained, was a guiding light for Maren that morning – even if he failed to realize it. There was a strength to him that she had not seen before, as if it were hidden behind the armor and shields he already adorned in the first place. Perhaps that was what living in the Vale did to someone. Sure, Maren was no stranger to brute force, for the number of bodyguards she had employed in her life was suffocating, but Kieran was different. His mind did not seem as fragile as hers, or anyone’s that lived in Alynthi for that matter. What horrors could someone have gone through to not only have a body made of steel, but a mind of one, as well?
He chewed the apple, juice glistening on his lips, and Maren observed him without fear. For once, her eyes did not shy away from his. She still didn’t trust him, not fully, but there was a growing respect that seemed to tether to both sides. They saw each other as people, not just body parts with a purpose. Still, she sat on his words and diverted her gaze to her toast, staring at the crumbs. “Am I, Kieran?” she asked, gently shoving her tray away before she turned to him once more. “Am I in safe hands?”
Maren’s words sat heavy in the air, but she needed to know. She needed something concrete. A sliver of hope to hold onto. If he gave her that, she could put on a show.
An all too familiar voice cut through the conversation and Maren quickly scooted towards Kieran, just so that their shoulders were brushing. She was thankful that she hadn’t touched her breakfast, for it would have surely churned in her stomach upon seeing the devilish eyes beam down on her – the ones that belonged to Melanie Hutchins. The girl from the ceremony whose first impression was… less than ideal.
And the way she addressed Kieran only strengthened that. Surprise flashed behind Maren’s eyes and she found her body growing tight with… with what? Anger came the closest, but it was something far more twisted. Something she couldn’t name – or didn’t want to.
Just as Maren parted her lips in order to shoot back her own venom to the snake, Kieran’s words filled the void.
And thank god they did.
Pulling her lips together and pressing them to contain a laugh, Maren cut a quick glance at Kieran and dipped her chin. Impressive, the gesture seemed to say.
Two more bodies joined the suffocating table, though Maren’s shoulder’s sagged with relief at this one, rather than clench with annoyance. Benson’s honeyed eyes met her’s and she offered the boy a genuine, small smile. Thankfully, he sent her one right back. The girl he was matched with, Fiona, saw the interaction and merely joined in with a serene expression of her own. Nothing predatory or possessive laced her features – unlike the other woman seated at their table.
However, just when the mood nearly shifted into something more pleasant, Melanie’s storm cloud rolled back to rain on their parade. Vulgar, sinister words once again disrupted their breakfast and Maren found herself clutching her fork a little too tightly. Benson seemed to have the same reaction to Melanie’s sadistic prying.
Maren hated this. Everything about this. The loss of free will. The loss of her human right to choose, as well as everyone else’s. This wasn’t for the greater good, for doing the right thing should never feel so goddamn heavy.
Once again, Kieran came to save the day with his sharp tongue. Maren was growing to like it. He seemed to have no problem showing his claws.
Fortunately for Melanie, Dr. Paddux strolled into the cafeteria, her heels clacking vehemently against the slick tile. Not a hair was out of place on the woman, though that did not stop Maren from assessing her for any sort of crack in her pristine armor.
As Paddux spoke, Maren felt the urge to sink further and further into herself. Despite the rage that brewed inside of her, she did not have the confidence like Kieran to go against the current. No matter how many warning bells rang off inside her head with every passing word that came out of the doctor’s mouth, she remained silent. With so much to say.
Remember, there is always an end goal.
Sweat collected at the back of her neck and she forced her eyes shut for a moment, allowed herself to breathe through her nose slowly and out through her mouth. She was no longer inside the cafeteria, surrounded by other couples. No, she was a teenage girl locked inside a pristine office with a man…. She was told to do certain things, told to not do certain things. Memories as painful as bullet wounds took over to the point where, if asked to speak, Maren was confident she would only melt into a puddle. She was no longer in her body, but somewhere else. Far, far away.
And then, a gentle pressure on her knee.
Her eyes flickered open and she saw Kieran staring back. His hand had slid from his lap to rest on her, but in no way that seemed threatening. In fact, it felt like the only thing rooting her back to reality, no matter how monstrous it may be. Her muscles relaxed ever so slightly and Maren simply stared back at him, the thorns that guarded her slowly becoming unfurled. Thank you, her eyes said, though, for some reason, she felt that Kieran already knew.
Benson spoke up beside her, though Maren’s eyes were still locked on Kieran’s. At the daring question, she forced herself to act nonchalant, but in her mind she was taking dutiful notes. By “successful” Maren knew Paddux meant “pregnant.” No matter how grand, a prison was still a prison.
The air in the room after Paddux left was still cumbersome, but Maren found her voice easier without the stern woman’s presence. As the others rattled on about exploring, bars, and whatever false freedoms they were given, Maren slid her eyes to her match. Her bonded. The one she would have to do life with. Forever.
The gentle squeeze he gave her knee was all the consoling she needed. The small gesture said so much. She was thankful for it.
Clearing her throat and finally dragging her gaze away from his, Maren merely sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” Sure, her tone lacked the enthusiasm one might have when being offered free liquor and a chance to let loose, but she did not feel like letting her guard down surrounded by angry watchdogs. Not when so much was on the line.
Placing her hand over Kieran’s and giving it a squeeze back, a silent request, Maren grabbed her tray and rose from the bench. “Excuse me, I’m still a little tired from the ceremony last night,” she more so said to Benson and Fiona rather than the other pair. Catching Kieran’s eyes, she gave a subtle jerk of her chin, a request to follow, before disposing of her tray.
Once they had escaped the bustling cafeteria and it was just them in the large, main hall, Maren picked up her pace, barely waiting for Kieran to catch up. However, despite the lack of people, save for a few guards scattered about here and there, she did not get the peace she desired. Maren honestly feared she never would again.
About halfway to their room, Maren could feel the weight in her lungs become more and more strained. Still feeling woozy, her eyes frantically scanned the hall, looking for any sort of reprieve. In the endless depths of the guard's eyes, she found none.
Except for a solid, inconspicuous door. A closet. Perhaps the only place she wouldn’t feel watched.
Without any hesitation, she practically dove for the door, snatching Kieran’s hand and dragging him with. Pulling them both into the small, cramped space, Maren was quickly hit with the smell of cleaning supplies before she slammed the door shut, locking it and leaving them to the darkness that followed.
Much better. Already, her body began to unfurl.
Catching her breath, she fisted her hands at her sides.
“Fuck,” she hissed, tossing her head back. She wasn’t used to feeling so… unguarded in front of another. Maren had always been graced with the privilege of running from her problems. Except for now. Now, she was faced with their deadly, sinister form. And she didn’t know how to handle it.
“Sorry, I just –” she swallowed, blinking away the burning sensation that trekked behind her eyes.
“I just don’t think I can do this, Kieran.”
The Dance
Follow her fathers wishes. He wondered how many times before she had told herself that lie. President’s daughter or not – he was no fool when it came to reading people, it was the only way he got through a majority of his life in the Vale. Nevertheless, he made no comment, knowing that she had lied for a reason. The look on her face said it all and he read it aloud to himself, soaking it in. She was truly moving through the motions, never truly living a life she could call her own.
* * *
Sharing a bed with a woman was the least of Kieran’s worries. It was the principal behind it all that made his gut tighten with anger. “It seems the rest of our lives will be spent just to make someone else happy,” Kieran retorted as he rose from his make-shift bed.
Running water filled the bathroom, but no steam collected across the mirror above the sink as he stared into it. He had been told many times that he wasn’t someone that looked approachable. His resting face always dark and brooding. Dark lashes brimmed his cerulean eyes, the only true splash of color to his features. Although he held an olive complexion, the dark circles that never seemed to fade from his eyes made him look forever drained, tired.
Kieran began undressing, stepping into the raining water that – despite having been freezing, left no goosebumps across his skin as it wet his body and he began rinsing off the heavy weight that sat on his shoulders.
Dried off and dressed in gray washed denim and a black Henley long sleeve, Kieran emerged in time for Grace to arrive back at their apartment to take them on yet another forced venture. Silently, Kieran wondered why the government bothered using actual humans, with all the technology of their world, he would think that they would just use robots for their twisted fantasies. It wasn’t like they had any life of their own. He was surprised they were allowed to breathe without permission first.
As they neared closer to their dining area, Kieran took in the scent of food, but his stomach remained a tight knot, not a tug of appetite greeted him, even as they breached the threshold of the mess hall, and several different colors met his gaze. Drinks, fruits, pastries, breakfast meats and condiments. Nothing.
Falling in step with Maren, Kieran couldn’t bring his jaw to unclench as he simply grabbed an apple off the table with a lazy hand, following after her towards the table with a glitching holograph of their names floating before it. As he took his seat beside her, his eyes locked on one of the guards as he stared back at the pair with little shame. Kieran leaned forward on his elbows, rotating the ruby red fruit between his fingers as his eyebrows set in a dull glare before tearing away from them. A silent warning hung in the air around them. If it wasn’t his talk last night with the Doctor, it would have been simply the fact that his pair was not like the rest. She held importance that they did not have. Whether that was an advantage for Kieran or a disadvantage – he wasn’t sure yet.
Taking a forced bite out of his apple, juice exploded in his mouth and the meat of the fruit was crisp between his teeth. Shooting Maren a side-ways glance, Kieran swallowed. “If they want a show, we give them a show,” his voice was low. “We show them you’re in safe hands, and if they want a couple, we give them a couple,” It was the only way to deter them, he realized. Especially if he was serious about finding an escape route. He couldn’t have constant stares on him, so he would give them what they wanted – at least out in public. Just until they were in the clear. He had raise alerts on them by being reckless with the Doctor last night, he knew that, now he needed to clean up his mess.
“Well, if it isn’t the precious daughter of Hylark,” a females voice interrupted and Kieran shot a glance in the direction it came from.
Two figures approached the plethora of food laid out and grabbed trays. One a tall male with jaw length curls of bronze and round hazel eyes. The other a shorter female with barely shoulder-length, pin-straight, black hair and sharp brown hooded eyes that held little kindness to them. They loaded up their trays with smoothies and food, taking a seat across from them. The male – Jeremiah, stole a piece of bacon from the girls plate, ignoring them, but the girl – Melanie, offered them a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, her hand going to rest on her pairs arm.
“It’s a shame you’ve been bound with one the. . . Wall rats,” she looked Kieran up and down, a tinge of disgust twitching around her full lips. Kieran paused his second bite into his apple, slowly clenching his jaw around it until a piece came off into his mouth once more, his blue gaze trained on her as she looked at Maren innocently.
Swallowing, Kieran shrugged. “As apposed to Jeremiah here being paired with an actual rat?”
Jeremiah nearly choked on his piece of bacon, quickly grabbing his smoothie to wash it down and Melanie’s grip on his arm tightened like a vice as she shot a glare to Kieran, her lips opened, but she was interrupted as two more bodies entered the room.
A dark skinned boy with eyes so light brown they could have been mistaken for gold. He was accompanied by a girl with long waves of red, and almond shaped eyes of emerald. Unlike the precious couple, they made no threatening comments or predatory facial expressions. They simply picked up some food and found their seats quietly. Benson took his seat, but his eyes landed on Maren beside him and Kieran followed the gaze to find Maren staring right back. They were familiar with each other it seemed. Fiona offered Maren and him a soft smile, averting her gaze from the other two who seemed to have steam rolling off their shoulders.
“Ah, Benson, how have your endeavors with Fiona been? I bet he’s just fantastic in bed,” Melanie let out a laugh that Jeremiah joined in with. Fiona’s pale cheeks flushed and she looked down at her tray. Benson’s muscles protruded beneath his skin, holding his tray with white-knuckles.
“What’s the matter Melanie, is he that unimpressive in bed that you feel the need to meddle in someone else's sex life?”
“Listen here you–”
Dr. Paddux entered the room, causing the room to fall silent. Melanie who had rose from her seat, slowly sat back down and Kieran tossed his unfinished apple into the bin beside their table, turning to meet the Doctors gaze as it fell on all of them.
“I see you've all found your way successfully,” she folded her hands in front of her and she halted her gaze on Kieran and Maren for a short moment before continuing. “Tasks such as this one are going to be assigned to you six regularly. Routine dinners will be attended together as well as monthly assignments that will be given to one of the two in each pairing. You will complete this task successfully, or there will be consequences. Just some. . . precautions. We want you to feel safe and comfortable here, but we also have our duties to fullfil as couples. Remember, there is always an end goal.”
Some of the group members nodded, but Kieran simply glanced at Maren at his side. She looked much more pale than just moments before. His hand instinctively reached over and settled on her knee, purposely not putting it anywhere she’d deem inappropriate. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was feeding into the bullshit the doctor was spewing.
“Ma'am, what do you mean by consequences?” Benson spoke up.
“As long as your relationships continue to be successful and we feel that you are compiling with our goals here, you shouldn’t have to worry about such things, Mr. Altarr,” Paddux smiled before nodding for everyone to continue their meals. “Remember, you are not our prisoners, feel free to explore,” her gaze stopped on Kieran as she went to leave the room. A warning not to do too much exploring he knew. It wouldn’t be possible anyways, not with the guards watching them like hawks. Like they still were.
“They have a bar,” Fiona, to Kieran’s surprise, finally spoke. “It’s actually really pretty and I think we could all use a chance to let loose, maybe later this afternoon?” she looked between Benson and Maren and Kieran, refusing to look to the other two who finished their food in silence.
Kieran released a low sigh, “That’s up to the boss,” his hand, still on her knee, offered it a small squeeze. A silent question as to if she was alright more than anything.
M A R E N
The heels she wore felt like razor blades digging into her skin. Her entire body was rigid and Maren knew very well that she did not look like the sensual being that was expected of her. Despite the flawless, shining interior of the ballroom that should have transported her into a whole new world, she could only see it without the mask – for her rose-colored glasses were tainted. There was no fooling her. She had grown up around the treacherous ways of politics. If something was too good to be true, then it most likely was.
A majority of the partygoers were smiling, spreading their wings and bathing in the embrace of their new life. Lust-filled gazes were passed between partners, only trusting the word of one with enough status rather than their hearts. However, within the tangle, Maren could not ignore those that stayed on the outskirts. Those who looked at their match hesitantly. As well as those who looked at one another out of despair. Heartbreak sat behind glassy eyes. While this day was Heaven for some, it was another person’s living Hell. Who knew how many of these people were already in loving relationships beforehand? Genetics could only hold so much weight. And it was not enough.
Matching Kieran’s blank look, she watched him leave. Like Hell she would charge after him as if she were a dog on a leash. He probably craved as much space as she did. While there was no denying his beauty, a layer of thorns covered him, as well. And, Maren could only imagine what armor she wore, for she knew she was the complete opposite of a doting partner.
A match made in Heaven, clearly.
Scanning around the room, Maren’s eyes caught the face of a boy that wore an expression much like her own. Hopeless. Pained. Empty. He was without a match as well and, before she knew it, she was charting a path toward him, her painful heels clicking lightly on the marble floor. Reaching the ebony-skinned boy, she opened her mouth, though no words came out right away. Always the charmer, she was.
He made no effort to hide his knowledge of her status and the handsome man nodded his head, quickly painting a mask over his face. “Ms. Hylark. It’s an honor. Congratulations on your pairing. It is a privilege to celebrate with you.” His voice was rich, velvety. It was clear he came from Alynthi, but he wasn’t celebrating, unlike the others from the city. His black, curly hair was buzzed, giving ample space to show off his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, though, his eyes were comfortingly soft. Kind, even.
She passed him a genuine smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you,” she started, turning her back so she faced the dance floor, making it seem as if she were merely waiting for Kieran to return. And nothing else. She had to choose her next words carefully, for if she misread this man, things could go extremely wrong. “This is still very much a shock to me. Forgive me if my lack of enthusiasm is…” her eyes flicked to him. “Offputting.”
The rate at which his shoulders visibly relaxed could have made waves throughout the entire ballroom. But, she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
“I understand. I am still getting a handle on things myself.” At those words, the boy’s gaze traveled to another man, dancing with a woman in the center. He had deep brown hair and a pained expression despite the glimmering one across the woman’s face. The brown-haired boy, as if sensing eyes upon him, immediately found the other man’s gaze.
The sparks were tangible. A look like that could have set the entire facility on fire.
It made sense now. And Maren felt sick.
Throat tight, trying her best to keep her face neutral, she reached for a champagne glass being carted around on a tray. Her grip was trembling. This was wrong… All of this was so fucking wrong. Ignoring true compatibility, all in the name of saving the goddamn human race.
Maybe at this rate, they didn’t deserve to be saved.
Blinking away the burning sensation in her eyes, she turned to the boy one last time. “Thank you for the chat…”
“Benson, Ms. Hylark” he filled in.
“Benson. I truly appreciate it.” Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Kieran, being escorted by a guard right toward her.
Lovely.
“And please, just call me Maren,” she quickly added right as Kieran arrived at her side. He pried the emotional support champagne from her hands and she all but glowered at him, but it quickly dissipated as he began dragging her out to the dance floor. They weaved through couple after couple until they sat dead center of the swarm. Kieran’s hand found her waist, his fingers laced their way in between hers, and his lips ghosted the most sensitive part of her ear.
She couldn’t help but shiver, Maren just prayed to God that he couldn’t feel it.
Kieran’s words flowed easily, despite the horrific truths. Casually, she shifted her body closer to him, ignoring the flares of anxiety that exploded in her mind. She could feel the weight of multiple gazes on her, and she was used to it, but not in the scrutinizing sense. It made her stomach roll. “It’s not you,” she whispered after he brought her back into his arms from the spin. “You’re…” She couldn't find the words and winced. “Nothing is wrong with you, Kieran. You’re not to blame here. I just –” Maren swallowed, thinking of Benson and the boy he desired. Thinking of the organic love that was stolen from her, as well. “I don’t have much experience with… Relationships.” A truth. “But I know I need to follow my father’s wishes.” A lie.
They continued to dance until the party grew thicker, the inhibitions lowered. The heat of the room snaked up her spine, along with her discomfort. Thankfully, Kieran had the same idea she did and suggested they head out. He replaced her champagne and she downed its contents as soon as it hit her fingers. Manners be damned. Exiting the ballroom, she wrapped her arm through his and kept it locked until they were alone in the hall.
. . .
After seeing the ensemble inside of their chambers, Maren instantly felt ill. She jerked a hand over her mouth and ran to the kitchen sink. She gripped the edge of the counter while her breathing turned ragged as her stomach rolled. She was going to be sick. She was going to be fucking sick.
Please, not tonight, Please, please, please –
But behind her she heard rustling, heard the chaotic shifting of blankets, heard the sizzling of candles being doused. Turning over her shoulder, she watched Kieran finish putting out the last of the candle. Right before the light faded, she saw that the rose petals were no longer on the bed, but on the floor. Maren caught the last bit of water being flung to the ground before he chucked the pot and then turned to her, panting.
He gave her the bed without a second thought. Before she could thank him, Kieran had discarded her suit jacket and strode towards the bathroom, leaving her with the aftermath of what had just occurred.
The rumors she had heard of people of the Vale were atrocious. That their kind was nothing but savages and rude and lived by no rules. That they bathed in blood, that they took whatever they wanted without any fallback. They were supposed to be terrifying. Uncontrollable.
So why was Kieran the only one that seemed to be on her side?
She mulled over that thought as she changed, slipping into plain cotton grey shorts with a matching shirt. Sliding into the grand bed, she eyed the ivory chair in the corner, how it seemed like they purposefully made it as uncomfortable as possible. There were also hardwood floors. No couch.
They really knew what they were doing.
Reappearing in the darkness, she watched him sink into the chair, defeated. An apology left his lips though she knew it was not for the mess he made. Not even close.
“Me too,” she whispered into the night after a long moment.
Sleep didn’t come easily, but eventually, she was swept into darkness.
. . .
Light knocking right before their door slid open pulled Maren out of her slumber. She blinked away at the brutal onslaught of light, temporarily forgetting where she was. What was expected of her.
As soon as she saw Grace, her face plummeted. Her skin felt too tight and her throat became dry. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was real, real, real, real…
Her thoughts were interrupted by Kieran’s half-hearted insult and Grace’s news. Breakfast, introductions, more relationships – her head was going to explode. Long gone were the days when she could read until dawn and sleep until the afternoon, where her biggest worry was not enough hours in the day.
Now it felt like each one would never end.
Crawling out of bed, she stood there, observing the two as they conversed. The ice lacing Kieran’s tone was unavoidable. However, Grace barely batted an eye. In fact, her face nearly looked… sympathizing.
Maren winced at the mention of her name, bringing flashbacks of their night, the dress. Thankfully, simple, plain clothing they were provided was on the menu for their outing. Then again, everything she seemed to wear here felt like it was threaded with a double meaning. Still, she strode towards the dresser, ignoring the bickering until she felt Grace’s eyes latch onto her. Maren met them, her hand half inside the drawer.
“If anyone else was to enter your quarters, I would advise against sleeping apart in the future…”
Nothing was getting past Grace. She read them easily. Too easily.
Terrified, Maren’s face blanched and she merely nodded, swallowing down bile. Only after Grace departed did she release a long, exhausted breath. She had to have slept nearly eight hours and yet her body still felt like it had been run over by a tank.
“We can share the bed, just to make them happy,” she started, snatching a pair of black, form fitting pants and a white shirt, along with fresh underwear. “I’ve shared beds with men before, Kieran, I won’t break.” Not a lie, but also not the whole truth. Things… depleted with all of her past sexual encounters before the show even really began. Anxiety would take her by storm, forbidding anything too intimate. It was why she never had a public boyfriend, for her relationships never lasted more than a month or two. Patience was not a virtue many obtained in Alynthi.
. . .
After changing and having Grace lead them to the mess hall, Maren was quickly slapped with the appetizing aroma of a plethora of smells. Bacon, eggs, smoothies, fresh bread… For the first time since she had entered the facility, she felt hungry. But, as soon as her eyes landed on the food, her appetite fizzled. She kept it safe with a plain piece of toast and jam and a serving of fruit.
The mess hall was as sterile as the rest of the facility with plain white walls, metallic tables with benches, along with holograms buzzing in the spaces above the tables depicting the seating arrangements. It didn’t take long for her to find her and Kieran’s place, for some of the names they were paired with were familiar.
Melanie Hutchins and Jeremiah Turner.
Benson Altarr and Fiona Jensen.
Maren Hylark and Kieran Sartore.
Gripping her tray, she passed Kieran a glance before she started toward their table. They were the first to arrive, which Maren took advantage of.
“Looks like we’re still the stars of the show,” she murmured under her breath to Kieran, pretending to eat as she tore apart pieces of her toast, lining her fingers with jelly. It was as if the guards didn’t even try to hide their staring. Maybe it was a fear tactic. Maybe it was her father making sure she was safe and sound.
Ha, the irony.
“Half of it is probably my fault. My father has always been a little… excessive.” She tossed a piece of bread on her tray with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what to fucking do.”
Lose the tie.
Her words didn’t go unheard. In fact, he found the opinion so reasonable that he didn’t hesitate to loosen the fabric around his neck as Grace led the two of them out of their apartment, letting it slip through his fingers and into the garbage bin on the way out the door.
The corridor was more blinding than he remembered it being. Several other couples surrounded them, heading in the same direction they were. The only difference was their interactions with each other. The way their fingers intertwined and the way they displayed affection so effortlessly. Kieran felt his stomach twist with nausea at the sight of them. So blind to their surroundings. To the fact that they were nothing short of zoo animals in cages for one sole purpose.
A curly headed boy caught Kieran’s attention. The same one from the ceremony. His words echoed in the back of his mind. Pairings that are going to be together for life, it’s genius. His head ached at the thought. He couldn’t wrap his mind around being so hopelessly stupid to believe such a thing.
Trailing slightly behind Grace and Maren, Kieran surveyed the halls they ventured through, each turn they had to make to near closer to the ballroom. Each door they passed, he wondered silently what sat behind them. If one of them maybe had an escape. If it wasn’t for Grace’s comment about a Vow Ceremony, Kieran wouldn’t have even noticed they all came to a halt at silver double doors.
Despite the curl of disgust that tightened in his stomach, he remained utterly silent, letting Maren’s growing discomfort speak for the both of them. Once Grace dismissed herself, Kieran glanced at Maren who insisted she wouldn’t be staying long. He couldn’t stop the huff that escaped his mouth. He wanted to laugh, to punch something as hard as he could. To disappear completely. None of those were options now.
Shoving open the doors, Kieran stepped through them, letting the music that was once just a vibration beneath his feet envelope them.
Standing at the top of a grand imperial staircase, Kieran stared out at the scene before him. No different from the rest of the estate. Vast amounts of white built up the ballroom, decorated with towering pillars of marble to match the floors. Polished so deeply, reflections of the various lights bounced off of them. The room was dimly lit, letting the ceilings projected lights run over the dancing bodies like crashing waves. Once the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, Kieran offered Maren an empty look before disappearing from her side. He had already taken into account that every door was guarded but one large sliding glass door at the opposite side of the room. He headed in its direction, slipping past hot bodies that laughed and sang along to the music.
Beyond the glass doors, Kieran was greeted by a large fountain with multiple falls that cascaded around it. Along the parameters were thick bushes filled with flowers of various shapes, colors and sizes. A garden. Craning his head, Kieran peered up at the sky above his head. Stars twinkled above him, the only piece of the outside world he’d seen in a while, and it was surrounded by towering walls of glass that he’d be stupid to try and climb.
“She looks rather lovely, you’re a lucky man,” a silvery voice sounded behind him.
Spinning on his heel, Kieran came face to face with the woman from the ceremony. The one to call his name and deem his fate. His eyes darkened.
“I wouldn’t call it luck,” Kieran chose his words carefully.
“You know,” she began, her fingertips grazing a flower petal. “Most people on death row would consider themselves lucky to be in your shoes right now,”
The veins in his arms protruded and he forced his hands into his pockets to keep the fists he balled up hidden. “Most people with common sense would consider it to be the same scenario,” Kieran’s tone was dangerously calm. Dr. Paddux simply gave him an eerie rose colored smile in response when a guard slid open the door behind her, his eyes shifting between the two of them.
“It almost sounds as though you’re unhappy with your pairing?” her question was anything but a question, a glint in her eyes showing him that it was a test. As if she was daring him. His jaw tightened. “We wouldn’t want any problems to arise,”
“Doctors know best,” Kieran said through clenched teeth.
“Is everything alright, Doctor?”
“Please, escort Mr. Sartore back to his partner,” she waved her hand, dismissing the two of them and Kieran used every fiber of his being to not send one of his hidden fists into the guards skull as he grabbed a hold of his arm, ushering him out of the garden and back to the ballroom. He had to keep his cool, but he doubted that after that conversation, there was any hiding his true feelings about his predicament.
Once the guard had brought Kieran back to Maren’s side and left, Kieran’s anger released itself in the form of a deep sigh, the dark circles beneath his eyes were heavier beneath the lights of the room. He had never felt more enclosed in his life, not even in his cell. All around them, he could see guards watching the two of them closely, so, without another thought, Kieran reached out and took hold of Maren’s hand, prying the champagne glass from it and setting it on a nearby table. He led her out towards the swarm of dancing couples, keeping his eyes on her and only her. In that moment, the beat went from light and happy to slow and steady. He tried to ignore it as his hand found her waist and the other intertwined their fingers. Leaning forward slightly, his lips were close to her ear.
“They’re watching us,” he began, leading their dance. “I’m not an idiot, Maren, I know you don’t want this anymore than I do. I saw . . . I saw the way you looked at me.” he brought her out in a spin, only to bring her body back into his own, her hair brushing his cheek. He had stolen a glance at the guards, their eyes still on them as they whispered between each other. He would never be able to escape if he was under surveillance. If it wasn’t the lump inside his arm, it was the intercom, Grace, the entire estate. He needed more information and until then, he couldn’t be seen as a flight risk.
After another song, the guards must have tired of watching them, letting their attention go elsewhere. Kieran dropped Maren’s hand, his body untensing slightly. All around them were people who looked genuinely happy and for a moment he wondered if they were all insane or if he was just that broken.
No. They were definitely all insane.
A passing servant with a silver platter of champagne broke Kieran’s train of thought as he swooped up two glasses and pointed towards the doors they had come in through.
“I think we’ve done our part here,” he said, handing her a glass as he guided Maren back towards the stairs. Again, he noticed guards staring at the two of them, but it wasn’t them that sent a crawling sensation up his spine. It was when he made eye contact with Dr. Paddux across the room. She smiled, lifting her glass to the two of them, but the smile did not meet her eyes.
* * *
A latch unlocking sounded as Kieran shoved the keycard into the slot of their apartment, shoving the door open, he stepped aside and let her in first, peering around for any eyes on them.
Once she was inside, he slipped in after her and shut the door behind them. The lights were off, but darkness had not greeted them. Instead flickers of light erupted throughout the room, candles of various sizes were strategically placed about the room, creating a pathway for them from the door over towards the bed. Splotches of dark circles were scattered across the floor and the top of the mattress. He knew exactly what they were. Rose petals.
Shoving the light on, Kieran ruined the effect of the candles and stormed over toward the bed, grabbing the blanket of it, he gave it a hard yank, forcing some of the candles to go out and all of the petals to fly off of it. Dropping the blanket, he glared at the scene around them, storming toward the kitchen, he ransacked the cabinets until he came across a large pot, filling it up with water, he didn’t care what mess he made at this point. It didn’t amount to the boiling pit of infuriation in his chest. With no hesitation, he dumped the water over every candle on the ground, the flames diminishing and he threw the pot to the ground with a loud bang, his chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at the new scene then Maren.
“You can have the bed,” his voice was low now, despite the display of rage moments before. Shrugging off his suit jacket, he dropped it in the garbage with his tie from before and headed to the bathroom with a new set of clothes to change.
He had reemerged wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled from dragging his fingers through it so many times as he stared down his reflection in the mirror, wondering where he had gone so hopelessly wrong.
Dropping down onto the ivory armchair near the dresser, Kieran took in his surroundings, his eyes void of emotion. Utterly cold as they ran over the unfamiliarity of it all.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said after a while of silence, not bothering to look at Maren, his eyes glued to the mess he’d made on the floor instead, but he wasn’t sorry for the mess. He was sorry she was stuck here with him, and he with her.
* * *
He had barely gotten any sleep - something not unusual for him. His eyes were slightly red when they opened up to a knocking on their door. Rubbing his face, Kieran furrowed his brows in annoyance as Grace entered looking perky as ever.
“Why don’t you just pitch up a tent at this point,” he groaned, covering his eyes from the lights as she turned them on and pursed her lips at his comment.
“Dynamics will be changing today,” she stated, ignoring his complaints. Her eyes however did linger on Kieran and Maren’s separated sleeping arrangements. “Dr. Paddux will be dividing couples into sections in order to keep communication with others healthy as well as make things a bit more manageable all together. You will be joining your new group for breakfast this morning for introductions and will then join them for dinner for the entirety of your stay in order to further survey all of your relationship needs.” her last words had almost sounded forced.
“Oh, so, now they give a shit about our needs?” Kieran snapped, shoving himself upright, his back groaning at him for being in such a position for so long. His bones popped in protest as he stretched out, glancing towards Maren with an unimpressed look toward the situation before he returned his attention to Grace. “So, what? No forced breakfast attire? Don’t you guys want Maren to look tastier than the food on our plates?” Kieran’s tone was vicious, but Grace kept her expression blank.
“Not today,” she turned towards Maren, knowing better than to speak directly to Kieran. “If anyone else was to enter your quarters, I would advise against sleeping apart in the future. I will return soon to escort you to breakfast,” her tone held a tinge of warning in it and then she was disappearing out the door.
M A R E N
There was once a time when Maren would parade through her home draped in the silky, fine fabrics of her mother’s dresses. Before her mother passed when Maren was only eight, she vividly remembered how devoted the woman was to her garments. Taking the utmost care of the pristine clothing, only to toss it out after wearing it once or twice. It was Maren, Lydia Hylark’s only daughter, that convinced her to keep the discarded dresses. For her daughter to hopefully wear one day. Whenever she fell in love.
That dream was short-lived. After her mother passed in childbirth, along with her newborn infant, Maren refused to touch anything that belonged to her, save for the delicate, crescent-shaped necklace she consistently wore. A gift Maren received on the last birthday she had with her mother. While the woman was materialistic, Lydia was never cruel or unkind. She had a warmth about her, something intoxicating and addictive and when she spoke to you, she made you feel like royalty.
Gazing at the gown she was required to wear tonight made Maren think of her mother. Of how much she would have loved to see her daughter in such attire, and yet would have wailed furiously if she knew of the reasoning behind it. The repopulation efforts were created a few years after Lydia passed, once Mikael realized how sick and twisted the world was. It took something horrific to happen to him personally in order for his efforts to make it known across the entire country, thus electing him as President. With terms now increased to six years, and after Mikael just secured another re-election last year, his desire to make a lasting impression was more powerful than ever.
Staring back at Maren was fabric so white it could have put swan feathers to shame. Not only was the bodice sleek and mature, but also revealing enough that she felt a chill snake down her spine. Strutting around and putting on a mask was one thing, something she was mostly used to by now, but doing so in an outfit that was completely out of her comfort zone was a whole other feat within itself. The diamonds sparkled like stars against the thin, mesh fabric, offering her the only bit of modesty. A slit that would nearly reach her hip bone was also garnished with the glimmering jewels towards the top, sheathing the upper part of her thigh.
She also couldn’t ignore how much it looked like a damn wedding dress.
Needing a moment of reprieve, her eyes shifted to the suit Kieran would wear. The shape would be flattering, that much she could easily tell. The dark material glistened in the low light, a drastic change against the pale room. As if it didn’t belong. A stain in disguise. Maren couldn’t help but resonate with the feeling. The boy’s eyes hovered upon the suit with clear distaste. As he turned over his shoulder, strutting toward the kitchen, she had half a thought to follow him to grab a shot of whiskey. Or perhaps several. She didn’t dally with alcohol that often, but tonight was definitely... Fitting.
Sighing, she made to follow Kieran, only to overhear the popping of a cork, the clinking of glassware.
Ah. His mind had drifted to the same place, it seemed. The similarity unnerved her. Maren didn’t want to have an inkling of a connection to this man. It would mean that her father was right.
She pressed her lips together and watched him grab his own full glass. Her eyes flicked to his in a moment of weakness before she followed suit. The aroma of the wine whacked in her in the face and Maren met his cheers half-heartedly before she brought the glass to her lips. Earthy, rich, with a hint of spice. Without a second thought, she downed another hearty, perhaps unsuitable, sip for the President’s Daughter.
Glancing at him from over the rim of her glass, started towards the bathroom, hoping that a scalding shower could wash away some of her worries. It was a nearly empty wish, but her body needed to… Do something.
“I’d look for more of that,” she started, jerking her chin towards the bottle. “We’re going to need it.”
She then shut the bathroom door. Locked it.
. . .
The shower, in fact, did not help.
However, the wine did.
She spent the past hour attempting to hide the fear and worry behind her eyes with cosmetics and skincare, as well as styling her honey locks into a charming, appropriate twist. However, after realizing that she did not have her hair to hide behind once she pulled on the revealing dress, Maren almost tossed it in the waste bin. Debated on chucking the remnants of her wine on it, as well. The dress tucked and sculpted her body in a way she did not normally view it. Curvy… Womanly… Seductively.
Thankfully, the room wasn’t unnervingly quiet, for Kieran was mumbling in the bathroom, almost fully dressed save for the tie he was attempting to work through. He looked good, unfortunately. The suit fit him perfectly, just like her dress. As if it was pulling her to mull over her discomfort one more, Maren’s eyes found her reflection in the large mirror that sat on top of the dresser.
As well as Kieran’s.
He spoke and the tension in her shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly. Something she couldn’t quite name glazed over his eyes as he gazed at her in the mirror, though it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as staring at herself. “They had my measurements for years, unfortunately.” Her voice was hollow, but she couldn't ignore how his compliment made the rock in her stomach a little lighter. “Thank you, though. You as well.” She paused, letting her eyes linger on his. “And honestly? I would lose the tie.”
Kieran then drew closer, but she felt rooted in place. The rich aroma of the red wine hung in the air, in the space between them. She didn’t hate it.
“This is stupid, right?”
She sighed. Yes, this was more than stupid. But this was also her only option. Their only option.
It was either succumb to the rules. Or die. It didn’t matter how pretty the bow was, the entire situation was focused on nothing but control. Over everything.
Her mind wasn’t allowed to wander for too long though, for Kieran’s gentle touch was suddenly woven throughout her hair. Maren’s whole body immediately tensed and her eyes grew wide. Even her face paled, despite the bit of blush she wore. A deep part of her mind expected unwarranted touches… A bristly mouth to kiss her skin like daggers. A wiry voice to threaten her in the most horrific ways... Nightmares crawled to the surface, memories she had forced away.
She wanted to scream.
But no, Kieran merely unclipped her barrette and let her blonde hair fall against her back in loose waves. Exactly how she had wanted to wear it, earlier.
A muscle in her jaw feathered and she parted her lips, a ‘thank you’ gracing her tongue.
Interrupting her, their chamber door slid open, revealing Grace in the same attire as earlier. Her face quickly warmed as she saw the pair in their finery However, Maren didn’t fail to notice the furrow in Grace’s brow as she saw Maren’s obvious discomfort. Painting aloofness like a proper steward, she gestured for them to follow. “You both look absolutely marvelous. Truly visionary.”
Maren could only nod as she followed Grace out of the apartment and into the illuminated hall, which was also filled with more pairings, all dressed in various shades of white and black.
Grace spoke promptly as they walked. “Please, do let me know if you two would like to request a vow ceremony.”
Those words almost made Maren stop in her tracks. Startled, she cleared her throat. “I… A vow ceremony?”
Grace nodded, paying no mind to Maren’s slip up. “Yes, Ms. Hylark. Some pairings feel more comfortable being intimate after. Though, it also is seen as just a formality for others. Adding such a thing does not discount your sublimity for each other.”
Maren’s eyes turned to Kieran just for a moment. “N-no,” she started, swallowing her emotions. “That isn’t necessary, Grace. Thank you.”
Grace only nodded before gesturing to a pair of silver doors. Her pace stalled and she held her hands behind her back dutifully. “Very well, then. Please, enjoy your night. I will head back to your chambers to prepare your room for your return.” What she meant by that, Maren didn’t want to know. “However, I will be available all night.” Bowing her head, Grace passed her one last soft smile. “You look beautiful. As do you, Mr. Sartore. Congratulations again.”
And with that, she was gone, leaving Maren alone with Kieran, facing the doors that would unveil the party. She heard of this event before from her father, but only in passing. Simple appetizers would be served along with champagne and an orchestra. There would be dancing. Expectations to be upheld.
“I, um, won’t be staying long,” Maren said, though her eyes were still transfixed on the doors. A pairing slipped in, allowing the chatter and music to escape through briefly, until it was shut out once more. “Feel free to do what you’d like.” Her voice gained more footing with every passing word. He wasn't chained to her.
“Well,” she started, realizing that she couldn’t delay the inevitable. Turning to Kieran, she nodded her head toward the party. “Shall we get this over with?”
When Kieran was much younger, he would venture out into the thick forest behind his home daily. Pretending to sword-fight imaginary monsters with sticks he’d found beneath the fallen pine needles. He could still recall a day that he had been out in those woods when he stumbled upon a bird in a clearing. Its features glistened with ruby-red patches at their peak. He could remember how its wings batted against its small body as it tried to escape Kieran’s presence when he was spotted.
Panic engulfed the creature as it hopped further and further away, eventually turning on Kieran, attempting to face the monster it must have thought he was. Kieran had simply watched the bird as it cawed threatening bellows toward him. His wing was broken and although it was still able to go on living, it had probably never felt more trapped in its life.
Alynthi was Kieran’s broken wing.
Staring back at him now was a framed quote about family. Kieran studied it, darkness clouding his expression. He had half a mind to shatter it against the wood floor when Maren’s voice cut through his silence.
He turned on her, “And whose fault is that?” his eyes bored into her own. Wondering if her father ever gave her a history lesson on how the Vale became in the first place. How they closed off a majority of their society out of fear and judgment alone. Banished the imperfect while keeping the perfect cookie-cutting snobs tucked inside the walls.
Kieran watched as she slumped against the dresser, but made no move to comfort her. If she thought she was miserable, she could join the club.
A hollow knock against their door made Kieran’s gaze flicker towards it, his body tensing up once more as he came back to the present. With hands full, a young woman let herself in, informing the two of them of yet another ceremony. He silently wondered if they decided everything in their lives with ceremonies. What need was there for a president if they could just throw a fucking political tea party instead? His hands tightened into fists at his sides while she introduced herself. The idea of staying in this place. A confined space. Something that drove him mad, but not just that it was confined, that it was confined with Maren. A stranger. A person that until today he had never laid eyes on or spoken to; someone who lived within the walls of Alynthi and had been fed information about his life, his society, and the people he grew up with. A world she had never experienced. A world she clearly judged. How they had been deemed even remotely compatible was beyond him.
Then came the intercom. A fucking intercom. A device that quite literally picked up their voices. If he hadn’t already felt violated, he sure did now. At least in prison, they had the decency to be outright with their presence.
When the door shut behind the woman, leaving just the two of them once more, Kieran stared at the intercom as though his stare alone would destroy the equipment. “Bullshit,” his voice shook with rage, his eyebrows set in a permanent scowl that traveled over towards Maren unzipping one of the bags splayed on the bed. The one bed in the entire place. The bed they were meant to share. To make love in. His gut felt like an empty hole as he forced his legs to carry him toward her to open up his own bag. Inside revealed a pressed three-piece suit made up of obsidian, the only splashes of color being the white button-up he’d wear beneath it all and the wine tie that he could already envision hanging himself with.
The muscles in his jaw feathered, and he shifted his ice-colored gaze to find Maren utterly silent, her complexion paling as she studied her attire. Her dress was a companion to his own wardrobe. Linen was intricately woven together like veils made up of snow itself. A plunging neckline would undoubtedly expose a majority of her chest and abdomen, the only thing attempting to conceal her skin would be the glittering cluster of diamonds woven into a transparent mesh.
Kieran stepped away from the bed. The clothes. Her. His attention needed to go elsewhere. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to contain his building anger. Crossing the room towards the kitchen, he began tearing open several cabinets, searching them one by one until he came across precisely what he was looking for.
Reaching up, he retrieved a sealed bottle of wine. Of course, it had to be wine. Kieran placed the bottle on the small island table behind him and began hunting for the opener in several drawers before coming across it. Although he had plenty of alcohol in the Vale, it hadn’t ever been something like this. Rarely ever wine, but judging by the bottle's design and the aroma that hit his nose as he pried free the cork, he knew it hadn’t been cheap.
“I don’t know about you,” Kieran grabbed a glass, hesitated, then grabbed another. “But if I have to put on that god-damned suit and unwillingly go to two ceremonies in one day, I rather not be sober for at least one of them.”
Heavy pours filled the wine glasses more than half full, leaving barely any left in the bottle itself. Snatching one of them up, he peered over at Maren, eyebrow raising with a silent question before he offered her an empty cheer, bringing the liquid to his lips.
* * *
Never. Never had he worn a suit in his life.
Staring back at himself in the mirror, Kieran’s nostrils flared with irritation as he attempted for not the second, but the fifth time to knot his tie. His struggles had caused his suit to crease in certain areas and he could feel his stomach tightening. He was going to punch something. Someone.
His chest rose and fell in defeat, letting the useless piece of fabric hang crooked and crinkled around his neck. “What use does this actually have!?” A rhetorical question as he stormed out of the bathroom and back towards the bedroom. He had only made it a couple of feet when he spotted her.
Standing beside the dresser mirror, Maren suddenly looked smaller than she had moments before. She had slipped on the dress already, her hands smoothing out the fabric as she stared at herself with a look of absolute horror written on her face. He met her gaze in the mirror, the silence unbearably loud.
He cleared his throat, “A little unnerving how well our clothes fit,” his tone carried a hint of sarcasm. “You look fine though,” he offered, his brows creasing for a moment at his own words. Fine? Really? “Good, even,” he added, his lips pursing at each vowel he spewed. It was the wine, he convinced himself, shaking his head. He drew a bit closer to her side. “This is stupid, right?”
He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure more.
Kieran averted his eyes momentarily, refusing to show any further discomfort he was feeling to her. Something he did often. Tugged up walls around himself out of habit. Out in the Vale, you could never be too sure of anyone. Not even the people you thought you could trust more than yourself.
Grey-blue eyes lingered on her hair. She had attempted to put it up and his nose scrunched briefly. He reached up nonchalantly, slipping her hair free from its restraints and letting it cascade back down over her shoulders in waves. Better.
“Don’t try so hard,” he murmured, capturing her gaze once more in the mirror before turning on his heel.
The clock was ticking faster than normal he thought as he watched the hands stretch closer and closer to seven. Then the door opened again.
M A R E N
There was no denying the weight of Kieran’s gaze as it swept across her frame, nearly making her stance waver even more so. She had felt eyes like his far too many times. Assessing. Judging. There was a hardness to his features, as if each cavern and line of the boy was carved from steel and she was facing the brunt of it. Heat also slithered through, but it was nothing like the flames that the previous matches held. No, this one seemed to hold no sense of passion. Or desire.
Part of her was thankful for it. The other part nearly shrunk away in fear.
And then his large, calloused hand wrapped around her own, tugging her towards the hall as if her feet were made of lead. Maren followed him despite every warning shooting off inside her mind. There was nothing soft about this man and she didn’t know what to make of it. Once she left the stage, her life would no longer be just hers.
Thankfully, once they were out of view, he dislodged his fingers from hers and she practically yanked her hand to her side. Yes, Kieran had dragged her away from one Hell, but only to face another. She swallowed thickly and continued forward, toward the double doors that unveiled the facility. Her new home.
What a warm fucking welcome it was.
As Kieran spoke, Maren’s head whipped towards his, taking in his frigid, sharp voice. At his statement, she scoffed. “Yes,” she confirmed, voice dry as the tiniest bit of strength began to fill the void.
Unfortunately, his next words were also obvious. Painfully.
They want me to fuck the President’s daughter.
Mikael’s daughter.
At that, her face hardened, but her voice did not falter. “You know, just Maren also works.” There were other names she could have called him, surely resorting to mere titles would only worsen this… arrangement. Still, her stomach rolled at the truth that left his lips.
Soulmate. She would have to produce a child with this man. Most likely multiple.
As they left the illuminated hall and walked through the doors, they were immediately greeted by an onslaught of scientists that worked at the facility. She was handed a plethora of items: a key card, maps, first aid kits, and, to her dismay, pregnancy and ovulation tests along with a pack filled with other basic necessities. Maren’s face immediately heated but, before she could sit too long on the thought, a woman with kind eyes quickly pulled her aside. Grabbing her arm, she held a device against Maren’s wrist. “Congratulations, Miss Hylark. This will only sting for a moment.”
Before Maren could object, the woman pressed the nozzle of the device against her skin and pulled the trigger. A sharp, stinging sensation shot through her arm and Maren let out a rush of air, quickly pulling her throbbing arm to her chest. “What was —” she started, but was then interrupted by a commotion behind her.
Kieran. And another guard. Practically going for each other’s throats.
Furrowing her brows, she started towards the battling pair, but her partner laid off as soon as the guard unleashed a glowing taser and pointed it at Kieran’s chest. Watching the boy’s ice-shard eyes ignite, she nearly jumped out of her skin as Kieran then plucked the key card from her limp hold and started down the hall. Leaving the attack behind him, as if it was nothing but dust on his shoulder.
The guard looked at Maren, gave her a sympathetic look, before jerking his chin towards Kieran, who had almost rounded the corner.
Reaching their shared chamber, she peered around his broad shoulders as he slowly entered. More pristine, white walls greeted them. A large, king-sized bed sat against one wall, while an ivory armchair and sleek dresser rested against another. There was a television, a small kitchenette, and a full-sized bathroom with twin sinks. Despite the spotless chamber, Kieran’s words tainted the space like a dark cloud. Walking over to the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress, Maren rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. At the bright lights. At the way she would forever live the rest of her life underneath a microscope.
“Says the one who just attacked an armed guard,” Maren muttered, rolling out the tension in her neck. She hadn’t been able to get a proper look at her new partner, so she took the opportunity while he seemed distracted. Tanned skin, warm brown hair, eyes that looked as if he hadn’t had a proper night of rest in years, yet with a gaze that was damn near electric. There was a ruggedness about him she wasn’t used to and, if the murmurs in the crowd hadn’t spoiled it for her, she would have been able to decipher his upbringing easily.
“You’re from the Vale,” she started, assessing him as he had done so to her only minutes ago. “Surely you’re used to the bizarre.” Never in her life had she been so… blunt, even rude. Her father would be appalled at her lack of manners. Then again, there was a lot she was shocked about. Etiquette was the least of her worries.
Needing to busy her hands, Maren stood up from the cushioned bed and started towards the dresser. Examining its contents, she noticed that clothes had already been provided for them. Basic articles like shirts of various fabrics, pants, undergarments… All in their correct sizes.
Once again, the weight of her expectations nearly forced her to crumble. Maren gripped the dresser until her knuckles turned pale, and yet her legs still trembled. Her eyes still burned with the threat of tears. No, there was no way she could do this.
Suddenly, a knock at the door broke through her hysteria and, before either of them made towards the entrance, the door slid open, revealing a woman in the typical grey, housekeeping attire. She entered quietly, carrying two garment bags. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I have your garments for the ceremony tonight. Please be ready by 7 pm and I will be back to escort you.” She was a slight woman, probably not much older than Maren herself, though there was a tiredness to her eyes that made her age practically double. Her coffee colored hair was pulled back into a tight knot that rested at the nape of her neck. “My name is Grace. I was assigned to your chambers so please, let me know if there is anything at all I can get you to make your stay more comfortable.” She gestured towards the discrete, silver button that rested by the door. On top of it was an intercom. Tucking her hands behind her back, Grace let her eyes rest on Maren’s for a prolonged moment. There was a kindness in them – one that made the qualms in her stomach lessen, if only slightly. Not trusting herself with words, Maren merely nodded her thanks before Grace took her leave.
It was just her and Kieran again. Alone. She wondered if she would ever grow used to it.
The garment bags that rested on the bed kept pulling her attention. Carefully she made her way over toward them before unzipping hers. Its contents made her back go rigid. Made her throat bob.
No.
Absolutely not.
He couldn't remember the exact day it was that the frigid water expelling from the rusted showerhead had no longer affected him. Hard pellets of water pummeled the exposed skin of his back when a nearby guard slammed his baton against a piece of metal, ordering him to get out.
"Miss me already?" Kieran retorted, grabbing the towel from the guard who refused to make any form of eye contact with the prisoner. A slow grin formed on the corner of his lips when the guard made no remark. He wrapped the cotton fabric around his waist, letting the guard lead him toward a pile of neatly folded clothes.
"Get dressed," the guard finally said when Kieran threw him a side-long glance of confusion at the attire piled on a nearby bench. "You passed the tests, Sartore, you're going home,"
The words had barely registered in Kieran's mind. He was going home. He never knew it had been possible to miss such a destroyed old house before. The smell of sawdust from the deteriorating wood and the sound of gunshots in the distance. He had been in the Vale prison for five years. He had been just nineteen years old when he committed the murder. For a brief moment, Kieran saw eyes, a mixture of cerulean and silver, matching his own.
The memory was quickly suppressed as he dressed. Several other inmates glowered at Kieran as he followed behind the guard that was guiding him toward his freedom. Instead of averting his gaze, he stared back at each of them as he passed. He had seen that anger before. The blazing infuriation behind their eyes. A silent threat. He had seen it in the mirror.
* * *
Kieran's freedom had been short-lived. He knew that he was being tested on in the prison. Every day had been a fight for his spot on the leaderboard. They promised freedom. They didn't promise this.
"Now you look like a civilized human being," an older woman pressed down the corners of his collar, smoothing out any wrinkles as he stood in a plain room with nothing but a large wardrobe, a mirror, and a table full of hair supplies. She had shaved his face clean of any stubble, trimmed his overgrown hair, and forced him into an outfit he wished he'd murdered the maker of.
He hadn't stepped more than a mere five feet outside of the prison doors when a large black van pulled in front of the entrance and several men exited, ushering him into the vehicle with little time to waste. Although he fought hard, it hadn't been a fair fight, his arms and legs were restrained and he had felt a sharp pinch against the side of his neck. Everything went dark. Now he was. . . here.
"You still haven't answered my question," Kieran was growing more and more impatient by the minute, his annoyance building. The woman clucked her tongue at him, dismissing his obvious discontent.
She began packing things up neatly around him, “We are in Alynthi, beyond the walls of the Vale”
No, he thought. The last place he wanted to be was Alynthi, he would have gladly gone back to prison if it meant that he didn’t have to spend another moment in the god-forsaken place. His face must have paled noticeably, the servant woman swatted him with a towel, her forehead crinkling with disapproval.
“Be thankful, young man, you were given a second chance at life,” she insisted and he wondered what it must have been like living life so obliviously. “Not only life, but love too,” she smiled now. An eerie, ignorant smile.
“I had a better chance at love back in prison,” Kieran stood from his seat, looking down at the monochromatic attire he wore. He looked like a prick.
The servant refused to indulge his complaints with any response. Instead, he began cattling him out the door and into a maze of white opulent halls with lights that could have been seen from beyond the wall. Squinting ahead, Kieran followed the shorter woman as she practically sprinted left and right, leading him in what felt like circles when the hall emerged into a vast room filled with shuffling bodies. There had been no room for individuality it seemed, they had all been clad in the same exact uniforms, dressed up like the dolls they were.
The servant woman gave Kieran a shove forward and he glowered over his shoulder at her, but she was quick to disappear down the hall, probably getting ready to shave some other sorry soul.
Despite being used to having people stare at him with looks of distaste, the number of people that had turned and assessed him only to crinkle their noses was almost impressive. Like they were bloodhounds, bred to seek out filthy animals such as himself. Outsiders. Dwellers of the Vale.
Slow strides carried Kieran to an open spot in the crowd, instead of giving anyone the time of day with his returned glare, he surveyed the front of the room. The large steel plate of the wall, the holographs that flashed before it. His gaze had finally settled on the main stage, shining marble floors kissed by the reflection of lights cast in every direction. A clicking of heels could be heard echoing closer and closer until a woman emerged, an air of sophistication and wealth shrouded her. The crowd seemed to go wild - at least a good majority of it had. Kieran was beginning to wonder what sort of water they must have been drinking here. He made a mental note to not try any. They were completely insane.
“What’s going on,” Kieran finally asked the male standing beside him. The boy had a faint layer of freckles peppering the bridge of his nose and his hair was a mess of dirty-blonde curls that sprung when he turned to look at Kieran.
“Pairing Ceremony,” he nodded with his chin to the woman speaking. “There’s one every year. Dr. Paddux calls out carefully tested soulmates, pairings that will be together for life, it’s genius,” he smiled up at her like she was some sort of God.
“Painfully romantic,” Kieran sneered, shifting his gaze away from the boy before he strangled him.
If they truly thought that he was going to be part of some fucked up ritual he had no idea existed until now, they had another thing coming. Kieran turned on his heel, shoving bodies apart to make a path in the wave of people. Once he had reached the end, his eyes darted for a door. Any sort of door that could get him as far away from the place as possible. In a far corner of the room, he could see through a pair of windows. The outside world. He stepped forward, then another when he was cut off by a larger body.
“Back in your place,” the man's voice was deep and guttural.
“Get out of my way, you literally tree,” Kieran snapped, but another man came up behind him, twice the size of the other. The muscles in his jaw feathered and then with a sound of defeat, Kieran turned around and braced himself for the torment. If he couldn’t get out here, he’d find another way. He’d play their stupid game but by his own rules.
* * *
It was hard to say what was more miserable. Watching people who wholeheartedly believed they had found their soulmate or listening to the crowd clap in response. Like watching a train wreck - only he was strapped to the front.
Several moments had passed, and Kieran beginning to grow so bored, he had stopped listening completely. Almost positive his name wouldn’t be spoken for quite some time. It was only when he stole a glance up at the wall behind Dr. Paddux lit up with his face that he stiffened. From across the room, the crowd split for a young woman with blonde hair as she made it up to the podium. Kieran forced his legs to move forward as everyone turned to him next, parting for him too. Muscles shifted uncomfortably beneath his skin as he ascended the stairs to meet the mystery girl in the middle like he’d seen many do before them.
Unlike her, Kieran didn’t stare at the ground. He assessed what was in front of him. He always had. Observant as a hawk. Barely able to truly see her features, he took in what he could from the shell she showed on the outside. Her knotted-up fists at her sides, the straightness of her back. She looked like she might snap like a rubber band from all the tension in her body. She had been the only person that had stood on the stage with such distress. Could she truly have a brain of her own? He thought to himself as he watched her, ignoring any words the woman beside them was saying. It was only when she touched the girl - Maren Hylark - that he tuned in once more, just in time to capture Maren’s gaze in his own.
Seafoam blues met his cobalt storms in a silent greeting. Fear. He could practically smell it on her. He felt the way her body language screamed out for help. Shifting his gaze away from her own, he let it travel to her hand. Reaching out, he took it in his own, tugging her down the hall. He didn’t want to be up there any longer than she did, but he had a feeling if he didn’t start walking, she’d pass out at his feet. Clapping erupted behind them as they drew further away from the crowd and once they were out of sight, he let go of her hand, releasing a held sigh.
“You’re Mikael’s daughter,” the thought had been swirling in his mind since he heard her name in the microphone. Hylark wasn’t a name that went unnoticed - no matter what side of the wall you were on. “They want me to fuck the President’s daughter,” he nodded, mostly to himself while a couple more servants began handing them unit keys, maps of the center, and a couple of other supplies stuffed in bags, but not before they grabbed each of their wrists, taking some sort of gun and zapping it against their skin. A sharp pain radiated through Kieran’s arm and he scowled, a growl practically ripping from him and he lunged for the man who quickly retrieved a taser, threatening him with it. Kieran’s chest rose and fell, anger boiling his blood and he looked down at his arm, a small lump beneath the skin. Turning towards Maren, Kieran’s jaw clenched and he snatched the keys from her hand, storming in the direction of their unit.
Several of the units looked the same, there was truly no such thing as identity here. Not only that, but he had a device in his body, his home was beyond the wall, he was dressed like a male nun and he was expected to live with a stranger for the rest of his fucking life?
Shoving open the door to the complex, Kieran raised his hands to his hair, tugging at the hickory strands as he tried to comprehend all that happened in such a short amount of time. Prison. He wanted to go back to prison. Turning to face Maren who was a few paces behind him, he shook his head.
"Your people are insane,"
M A R E N
There were two things Maren was sure of.
One: the white, mock neck shirt she wore was stifling, the fabric crisp enough that it assaulted her ears every time she adjusted her arms. It matched the formfitting pants that were also nearly as constricting. In a way, she found the whole assortment trivial. Pure and modest, when this whole ordeal was anything but.
Two: she was fairly certain she was going to vomit. Or faint. Whichever came first.
Her discomfort was apparently less contained than she had hoped, for the girl standing next to her cut her dark eyes in Maren’s direction disapprovingly before straightening her posture. She wondered if the young woman even knew who she was glaring at. However, Mare immediately felt guilty for even thinking something so arrogant. It didn’t matter whose daughter she was, for she ended up in the exact same position as the other woman.
Waiting to sign her life away – something she hadn’t even felt ownership of to begin with.
The room was blinding, sheathed in high-powered fluorescent lights that matched the uniforms of all four hundred participants. Rows upon rows of statuesque men and women between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-nine filled the grand, sleek room. Despite the large crowd, the air was silent. Sterile. The other participants seemed to appreciate the honor and importance of the ceremony – how their lives were now saved, despite the fact that they were nothing more than mere cattle. Some of them perhaps didn’t know any better, if they came from outside the walls, also known as the Vale. Their world was riddled with disease, corruption, rebellion, and chaos. Maybe becoming … this was better than the life they had known.
Once again, guilt crept across Maren’s mind, filled with thorns that pricked at her with every passing second.
“Felix Attal and Helena Jacobson,” Dr. Padux announced, her face neutral despite the flicker of achievement in her eyes. Her neat, slicked back bun of pale blonde hair nearly matched the uniform the participants wore. The population reset was her idea – taking the most genetically advanced and healthy individuals of all Manterra, the continent that was once called North America, and using them to create a new wave of humanity. One that would not fall prey to the shortcomings of the new world. Elite in almost every way. It was no surprise that a majority of the participants chosen hailed from Alynthi, where survival wasn’t a guessing game. Like the girl next to her, for instance. However, Mare did notice a few that stuck out within the rows of white. Ones that looked just as nervous as she did, despite growing up in completely separate societies.
Oh, the irony.
Two bodies ascending the half-moon of stairs, up towards Padux on the stage, caught Maren’s attention. The boy had dark, warm skin, while the girl had hair of fire. Their eyes met and Mare swore she saw sparks ignite between the pair. Why wouldn’t there be? They were a perfect match. Soulmates. The ones who would help save Manterra.
She wondered what would transpire between her own match. Perhaps a tsunami of dread. Maybe even a disastrous landslide. Anything but sparks. Please.
Felix and Helena joined hands, bowed, and turned towards the long hall that sat at the back of the stage, ready to face their new life. Together.
For the sake of humanity.
Yes, Maren was certainly going to be sick.
She felt her face pale as a cool sweat collected on the nape of her neck. She tried to swallow the large lump that rested in her throat, only to practically erupt into a coughing fit. Once again, the girl at her side cut her a glare. “Fucking Savages,” she muttered, but with enough gusto for Maren to overhear her.
Schooling her features, the president’s daughter reigned in her discomfort. The girl thought she was from beyond the wall, that was how ridiculous she was acting.
“Melanie Hutchins and Jeremiah Turner,” came Dr. Padux again.
With a sharp grin and an aura as if she were chosen to be the next ruler of Alynthi, the girl that had just insulted Maren took a step forward before flawlessly maneuvering her way through the precise lines of participants. The man that met her on the stage was just as beautiful as she was. Where Melanie had jet black hair cut into a sharp bob, the man wore a head of hair so gold it could have been mistaken for a crown. His smile was white and confident and they joined hands with ease. They acted as if they already were acquaintances, Perhaps they were. While Alynthi seemed like a grand city to Maren, in reality, it was quite small. Secluded.
The newly appointed pair left smiling. A pep in their step.
Fantastic.
Padux grinned a pristine smile to the large audience as she gripped her podium lightly before swiping on the tablet embedded into the metal to reveal the next match. Behind her, the empty wall erased the holograph that revealed the faces of each match. Melanie and Jeremiah flickered, their photos practically taunting Maren, before they dissolved, just as the couple did as they made their way down the hall.
As if she had known exactly where the daughter of Mikael Hylark stood, Dr. Padux met Maren’s eyes.
Oh no…
Oh God no…
“Maren Hylark,” Padux announced as the image of Mare’s face flashed behind her. There was no compassion in the older woman’s eyes – only triumph. A selfless sense of pride.
Maren’s jaw clenched and her stomach swirled as hundreds of eyes swooped toward her. Whispers spread like wildfire amongst the crowd – wondering who the lucky bastard would be to nail the president’s daughter. Their words only made her stomach turn sourer, made the sweat accumulating across her body spread faster. Taking a few deep, much needed breaths through her nose, Maren cautiously stepped out of line and made her way towards the stage, eyes down, hands clenched at her sides. Padux cleared her throat as she prepared to announce the male she would be chained to for the rest of her life. The one she would damn near be forced to procreate with. To… touch.
Heat pricked behind her eyes, but she kept moving. She had to.
How her father allowed this to happen… She had no idea. Then again, the man knew her on a surface level only. Nothing deeper, for that was where her waters turned dark and murky. No, the president of Manterra didn’t have time to dive into treacherous territory. Not even his only daughter’s.
“Kieran Sartore.”
The name felt like a punch to her gut and Mare nearly tripped over her feet as she continued the trek to the stage. She still refused to look up and meet the eyes of her supposed “mate”, as Padux called them. The boy’s name wasn’t familiar at all and, judging by the whispers of confusion she heard spreading through the crowd, neither did the others belonging to Alythni.
However, one harsh whisper did stick out to her.
“Fucking Savage.”
Someone beyond the wall? A boy from the Vale?
She reached the stairs and Maren climbed each one slowly so she would not topple over. She needed to hold her composure for just a bit longer. Then again, after she escaped the crowd, she would be left with a whole new feat. Facing him.
Facing Kieran Sartore.
Reaching the stage, she still refused to look at her match and kept her eyes straight forward instead, finally facing the plethora of participants. They stared at her in awe and then at her match with a multitude of expressions she could not decipher.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Padux whispered as she leaned towards her. Flicking her eyes to the blonde woman, Maren forced a faint smile across her lips, a mask she learned how to wear too well. Padux touched her shoulder gently with frigid hands before escorting her toward the long, white hallway.
She needed to look at him, she knew this. She needed to make her father proud. Needed to put on a brave face.
Swallowing down the nerves that were now practically bursting out of her, she took one more deep breath, squared her shoulders, and turned to meet her fate.
She met his eyes. Kieran Sartore’s eyes.
ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ғᴏᴜʀ // ᴀʀɪᴇs // 6'0" // ʟᴇᴀɴ // ᴏʙsᴇʀᴠᴀɴᴛ, ɪʟʟ-ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴄᴜɴɴɪɴɢ, ᴄʜᴀʀɪsᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ
twenty - two ⊶ virgo ⊶ 5' 4'', lithe build ⊶ reserved, selfless, intelligent, brave, stubborn