CHAPTER 18
Luc stared at me, waiting for an answer. “Because union in the mandate means ‘marriage,’” I clarified, hoping I’d misinterpreted. “Right? The girl with the violet eyes marries the One, once you figure out who the One is.”
“Merde. Why do I say thissthings?” Luc slurred. “I should not talk this way. The mandate, it is good. And, it is destinée,” he said, putting air quotes around the word. “‘Their fates mapped together.’”
Their fates mapped together. Another line of the mandate—it had to be. I’d been practically kidnapped and almost killed, all so I could be married off like a princess in a fairy tale?
I felt myself starting to shake again. It was like the shock had been waiting just under the surface since Prada, held back by a thread that had just snapped. I clenched clammy fingers on my bare thighs.
Luc belched and set his glass down. The music broke into a hard beat, and everyone on the dance floor jumped up and down in unison, hands in the air.
So I was to be married to whoever the Circle decided was the One. If they didn’t figure out the mandate, it sounded like the Saxons would marry me to whatever son they had available. The Dauphins would choose someone to unite me with, if I was their family. If I wasn’t, they might kill me so I wouldn’t take their baby girl’s birthright.
My mom had always known about this. Suddenly, I knew exactly how she must have felt. Trapped. Hunted.
I glanced behind me at the booth where Stellan still perched, talking with Liam and Colette. Colette gestured with a cigarette, her big sleepy eyes laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world, even though they’d been talking about a staff member’s “termination” a few minutes ago.
The music swelled too loud, and the cigarette smoke was too thick.
“Whasswrong?” Luc squinted one eye.
I scrambled off my bar stool. “Bathroom,” I said, and fled.
I shoved past bodies writhing on the dance floor, dizzy from the lights and the heavy bass and the heat. There had to be an emergency exit somewhere.
Stellan appeared by the bar, a head taller than everyone else.
In the second I stood frozen, watching his face come in and out of the lights, he turned and saw me. He must have read something in my face, because his eyes narrowed. I spun on my heel and darted toward the back door I’d seen earlier, shoving it open hard.
The steam hit me first, so heavy it felt like I could drown in it. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim pink light. The room was a long, narrow cave with recesses along the wall. In each one, a steaming fuchsia waterfall splashed down in front of one of the dancing girls I’d seen from the bar.
A short woman with an earpiece and a scowl yelled something and grabbed my arm, propelling me to a waterfall that was missing a girl.
She thought I was one of the dancers, late for her shift.
I was about to rush back out and find a real exit, but the door opened. Stellan peeked in. I could go with him. Pretend I got lost on my way to the bathroom. But after seeing me run just now, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight again.
I leapt onto the pedestal and caught my balance on the slimy stone wall. I let my hair fall in my face and swung my hips to the music, which was muffled like I had cotton in my ears. Keep walking, I urged him with my mind. You were wrong about seeing me come in here. Just keep walking.
I hazarded a glance over my shoulder. Stellan strolled down the row, an outline in the steam.
Right behind me, his footsteps stopped. I glanced back once more, and his eyes bored into mine.
“What are you doing?” He reached for me.
The next song started, and a plume of sparks erupted behind me, blocking him. If I wanted to get away, it was my chance. I ducked through the waterfall, gasping as it doused my hair and ran down my shoulders.
I was standing on the end of the bar, hundreds of surprised faces turned up toward me. I dashed the water out of my eyes and looked around frantically, and, after a silent moment, whistles and catcalls erupted from all around. I tried to climb down onto a bar stool, and an overly tanned playboy type looked all too happy to set down his martini glass and grab me by the waist. He set me in the center of his group of leering friends, and I swatted a couple of grabby hands as I pushed out of their circle.
An exit sign glowed in a back corner. I dodged a waitress with a tray of shots and hurried toward the door as fast as I could without drawing even more attention. The door opened on a dark street, and cool air rushed over me.
I pushed it closed and ran. I bypassed hiding places that were too close and sprinted into a narrow alley across the street and around the corner. A nest of sleeping cats streaked away in flashes of gray and white and orange, and I huddled behind the Dumpster where they’d been, panting, dripping wet, shaking.
I heard an echo in the quiet night as the door opened and, a minute later, slammed shut again.
I let my head fall back against the cold brick wall and clutched my locket and oh my God the Circle and the mandate and the union and getting married and I was in so far over my head I could barely see the surface. I sucked in gasp after gasp of air.
A year and a half ago. I was fifteen and we were living in New Orleans. The emptiness was bad that year. Lane was a senior with blue-black hair and a lip ring he sucked into his mouth when he smiled. I was wary, sure, but I thought he was bringing me into his group of friends until he had me alone at his apartment and I said no, even though all the “army brats” were supposed to be slutty. He told me to let myself out. A year earlier, Kansas. Mila Anderson and her friends asked me to sit at their lunch table and invited me to a party and walked arm in arm with me down the halls until they finally ditched me at the liquor store in the middle of the night when they realized not every teenager from New York had a fake ID.
Way earlier. Five years old. Chicago. Two neighbors dared me to steal blue speckled bird eggs from a nest on the fire escape. I climbed out, they slammed the window shut, and it stuck. The ground was so far away, I hadn’t liked heights ever since. I’d huddled against the stucco wall and clenched my locket in my fist, and then my mom was there. She scooped me up in her arms and saved me. I remembered exactly how she smelled that day, like lavender and sunshine. Like home.
Now I’d flown halfway across the world on a whim, like a gullible idiot, only to find out my family would take advantage of me in a second if they discovered who I really was. Even my own father probably would, if I could ever find him.
I took one last panicked breath, blew it out through pursed lips, and then let my locket fall out of my hand. I was alone, in a wet cocktail dress and stilettos, in the middle of the night, in Istanbul. Maybe giving in to the panic and running wasn’t the brightest idea, but it was done. If I was going to fall apart, I’d have to do it some other time.
Across the street, an engine roared to a stop, and I pressed back farther into the shadows. Getting ready to run again, I peeked out and saw a motorcycle at the curb outside the service entrance. Its rider pulled off his helmet.
It was Jack.