Sapient Salvation 1: The Selection (Sapient Salvation Series) (2 page)

I managed a smile for him. “It went well, two quotas filled,” I said.

He nodded and a chunk of hair the color of strong coffee fell across his forehead. “I have more than I need, but if you don’t need them, then today I will turn in a few extra bergamines for the overlords’ pleasure.”

Rand often picked more than his quota, and nearly every day checked with me and Lana to make sure we had enough. I never wanted to assume he would help me fulfill my and my sister’s daily collections, but it was nice to know he was there to help all the same.

I’d seen others try to take advantage of his generosity, lazing or socializing for part of the day and then going to Rand to ask for his surplus. He would always give it once at least to someone who claimed need, but Lana and I were the only ones he offered it to regularly.

“I imagine you’re looking forward to the completion of this Selection cycle with great anticipation,” he said, tilting his face to look down at me.

I skirted a glance in his direction, but didn’t raise my eyes to his. I knew what he was hinting at. That after the Selection, Court and I would finally be married. That’s what I’d thought up until I’d seen him grabbing at Farrah, until I’d heard her say—I squeezed my eyes closed, silencing her voice in my head.

“I . . . Um . . . not as much as you might think . . .” I trailed off, unable to fake any enthusiasm.

Lana turned to me, and I could feel the question on her face, poised on the tip of her tongue.

A trilling giggle spilled through the late afternoon heat.

I knew who it was. I should have kept my eyes ahead. But a dozen heated emotions boiled up through me and gathered behind my eyes and around the center of my chest.

I turned.

Farrah was poking at Court’s ribs. He was trying to ignore her, but she persisted in touching him, tickling him, bumping against him, preening with her fingers in her wavy hair when he looked her way.

Rand saw, of course.

“Farrah, stop grabbing me,” Court hissed, loud enough for the three of us to hear.

Surprise passed over Lana’s face, and then disbelief. Anger came last. She’d probably just displayed the exact expressions I had when I’d come upon Court and Farrah in the orchard.

Lana half-turned her head toward me, her eyes flashing. “That
snake
,” she spat. Her cheeks flushed.

I nearly smiled in spite of the humiliation that burned on my own face. That Lana could piece together my off mood and one sentence from Court and come up with what was probably close enough to the truth, well, it was a testament to our bond as twins. And even more so it was a tribute to her ability to read people without the benefit of actually seeing their expressions, actions, and body language.

I ground my teeth and fought to keep angry tears from spilling over. “The worst kind of snake,” I said. “The kind of snake who allows his little snake to lead him around.”

Out of the corners of my eyes, I flicked a glance up at Rand. His lips were parted and a frown furrowed his brow. I saw the exact moment that the truth clicked. His deep brown eyes widened just a hair, and something lit in them. I knew what it was—hope. But to Rand’s credit, he shook his head and shot a look of outrage at Rand and Farrah.

“Maya, I’m sorry.” Rand shook his head again. “That man
is
the worst kind of snake. And an utter idiot. He does not deserve you.”

I took a shaking breath. My bones felt too fragile, my head too light, and my feet too heavy. But with Lana on my left and Rand on my right, I somehow stayed upright and kept moving one foot in front of the other.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Lana was fuming, waves of anger practically buffeting me like a desert wind. She cursed under her breath, which I’d only heard her do maybe twice ever.

“I’m going to spike his brew with cobalt tonight. Hers too,” she said, her voice carrying over the chatter of pickers walking to the drop station.

Several heads swiveled our way.

“Shh,” I cautioned.

But it wasn’t a half-bad idea. Cobalt was the dye she used for the blue strands of her ceremonial cords. If ingested, it had horrible digestive effects. I wouldn’t mind seeing Court and Farrah sick from both ends for the entirety of the Selection Fete that evening and Feast Day the following day. No, I wouldn’t mind that at
all
. In fact, I just might take some of Lana’s cobalt and spike their mugs myself.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Court and Farrah slow. They were letting us get ahead so we would have our backs to them in the drop line.

“Maya,” Rand said. He cleared his throat. “I imagine that some of your plans for the night have now been, um, spoiled. I hate the thought of that. Tonight, I would be honored if—if you would . . . Will you allow me to escort you to the Fete?”

I let out a big breath and gave him as broad a smile as I could muster. I was in no mood for a party, but I was
not
going to hide away at home while Court was out living it up. “Yes.” I nodded firmly. “I would love that.”

The look on Rand’s face nearly broke my heart. His features seemed to be battling between expressing elation about my answer and sympathy over my predicament.

I knew he’d been in love with me for years. Why hadn’t I chosen Rand instead of Court long ago?

Rand was handsome, kind, intelligent . . . and he would
never
betray me the way Court had. It was only beginning to dawn on me how horribly foolish I’d been.

I’d ignored Court’s extraneous flirtations, telling myself it didn’t matter who he smiled at as long as he kept meeting me in our nest. As long as he kept saying that we’d be married after the Selection.

With a fresh flash of humiliation, I realized how stupid I’d been. Court had never proposed. He’d talked about marriage, yes, but never made the slightest move to secure my hand. I suppose I’d always assumed he would do it after the Selection. That evening. Yes, I’d always been so sure that we would become engaged at the Fete, the rowdy celebration that began as soon as the Selection ceremony ended.

But we’d never made any plans for a life together. We’d never talked about whether we would live in my family’s home or his. When we’d petition to have a child. How we’d save for a home of our own.

I pulled my collection bags from my shoulders and began passing them to the man who set them on a scale.

“It’s half of my favorite matched set,” he greeted me—us, me and Lana.

“Good evening, sir,” I said.

When he turned, the spinal implant at the base of his skull caught the light, glinting like a brief wink of a robotic eye.

I watched the scale. Eight bags heavy with bergamines equaled one-eighth of a pound over quota. The man gave a satisfied grunt and entered the weight next to my name with a few taps of his fingers on his tablet. He held out the thin, transparent device so I could sign my name with the tip of my index finger. The tablet flashed green.

Then I moved aside and Lana took my place. She smiled and nodded, but kept her head down as she handed over her collection bags. It was better if she acted shy and avoided trying to make eye contact.

Despite our charade, the man who weighed our bags had to know Lana couldn’t see. But we felt it was safer to carry on our act because it enabled him to carry on his act, too. He was an Earthen, but a direct underling of the overlords and could, if he desired, report Lana for her disability. He could report me for helping her hide it.

When it came time for Lana to sign, she held her finger out. The man positioned the tablet under it so that when she lowered her finger to sign it hit the right spot. The tablet flashed green again, and she sidestepped toward me.

I slipped my fingers around her elbow and guided her away while Rand turned in his bags.

“Where are they?” Lana whispered, her eyes flashing.

I cast a glance at the line. “About a dozen back.”

“Do you want to wait for Court? I imagine there are more than a few things you’d like to say to him.”

“No. I’ll speak to him later.” I paused, my teeth pulling at my bottom lip for a moment. “And I’ll need some of your cobalt.”

Lana smirked. “Good girl.”

We waited for Rand and then set off toward Southside Borough.

This time of day had always felt bitter as Court and I were forced to part ways. Not anymore. I sent up a prayer of thanks to the stars that Court lived in a different neighborhood.

I stood up as tall as I could and pushed out a long breath, wishing I could expel Court from my mind and my heart as easily as the air from my lungs. Despite the crushing ache around my heart, Lana and I had a busy night ahead. Preparations for the Selection Ceremony, the Fete for which Rand would be my escort, and some blue-tinged revenge to exact on Court and Farrah.

2

Maya

SLICES OF BERGAMINE and petals from Mother’s ginger lilies floated around me in our hammered copper soaking tub. It was one of many tubs that had been passed down through the ages for rituals such as the Selection Day cleansing. Across the Ten Protected Zones, many other young men and women were sitting in similar tubs.

I caught a bergamine circle in my palm and lifted it to my nose. My mouth watered at the sweet citrus smell, but the sudden memory of squeezing fruit juice onto Court’s lips and then licking it off made my eyes sting. The ache in my chest expanded as I let a few tears fall and mingle with the bath water.

In my self-pity, I almost regretted that I wouldn’t be the one from my clan who would go to Calisto and compete for Lord Toric’s favor, just to escape Court and Farrah. But my family and the others in our clan had made the customary tithes to Belinda’s parents to pay for her coaching, compensate her family for the loss of their daughter, and provide money in place of her work ration while she trained to compete as our clan’s Obligate.

And I knew I should count myself lucky. In some clans, the Obligate was chosen on Selection Day by random drawing. There was no time for preparation and no compensation for the family. I did not understand that approach, as those Obligates rarely fared well in the competition and many of them didn’t even survive it. An Obligate entering the competition with no training was walking into almost certain death.

The families of Obligates who perished in the competition never knew exactly how their son or daughter died, and the bodies of the deceased were never returned to Earthenfell. I’d attended a few Obligate funerals, and the mourning families always had the same haunted look in their eyes.

“Maya?” came my mother’s voice through the bathroom door. “Five more minutes.”

“Yes, Mother,” I answered, my thoughts returning to the day, to Court.

I sank low in the water, submerging my entire body from the neck down. If only I could hide there forever.

*

I watched my reflection in the narrow, full-length mirror leaning against the wall of my mother’s bedroom. The sides of my dark hair were pulled back in gentle swoops, and the ends of my hair curled over my shoulders.

“Arms up.”

I obeyed as Mother bent to pull the ceremonial cord around my waist, passing it around three times. She moved around in front of me to secure the rope in a complex knot, leaving the ends to hang down the front of my white ceremonial gown.

The silken cord woven by my sister displayed the colors of our clan: cobalt, aubergine, and sage. All of the clansmen and women between the ages of eighteen and twenty—the Obligate Elects—would wear white garb and clan cords for the Selection Ceremony at dusk.

Mother straightened and stepped back, her appraising gaze taking me in from head to foot.

“You girls are so beautiful.” Her eyes crinkled in a tired smile as she looked from me to Lana, who was perched on the edge of Mother’s bed. “I’m so relieved this is your last Selection. Even with our clan’s pre-arranged Obligate—”

Mother’s words cut off as she pressed her fingers to her lips and a rattling cough wracked her body. I guided her to the chair in the corner.

“We should let you rest before the ceremony,” Lana said. She stood and moved to the foot of the bed, feeling her way with a light touch of her fingertips over the bed.

“We’ll wake you in plenty of time, Mother.” I waited until her coughing calmed, and then helped her stand and go to the bed.

Lana went to the doorway and waited while I tucked Mother in and poured water from the pitcher into the heavy ceramic mug on her bedside table.

“She’s getting worse again,” Lana whispered after I closed the bedroom door.

We moved quietly into to the tiny room that served as kitchen, dining room, and sitting room. Lana pulled her arm from my grasp and went to the chair that was once the color of bergamine skin but had faded to a dusty orange-beige. She could move around our small house without worry of stumbling or running into anything, as we’d had it arranged exactly the same way for years so she could navigate it without help.

“She’s just tired,” I said. “Selection preparations.” Mother had spent the past three days baking rolls to contribute to the Fete and Feast Day.

I stifled a sigh, put on an apron, and turned to the dishes in the sink. In spite of my words, I suspected Lana was right, that Mother was on the verge of another flare-up. With every exacerbation, she became a bit weaker.

A rap on the small window over the sink pulled me from my worries. My hands froze in the suds at the sight of Court’s drawn face peering at me.

“I need to talk to you, Maya,” he said.

His stance was somber, his hands clasped in front of him. His forehead lined in a contrite expression. He was dressed in his Selection whites and ceremonial cord. The garb accentuated his tan face and the pure whites of his eyes.

“Please?” he said.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Court say that word.

I nodded once and dried my hands on the front of my apron.

“Don’t you dare take him back,” Lana said heatedly.

Her weaving was jumbled in her lap. She turned her head, following the sound of my movement as I took off my apron and left it on a hook by the door.