3. May the Gods Bless Your Choice

CHAPTER 3

May the Gods Bless Your Choice

B rynleigh landed on the top steps, waved at the press, and grinned as she retracted her wings. She kept a strand of shadows wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet as a reminder of her power.

"Good evening, Miss de la Point." A guard dipped his head. "Right this way, please. The women are gathering in the Crimson Lounge."

Brynleigh handed her invitation and clutch to the man. Looking over her shoulder, she waved at the cameras one last time. Thanking the guard, she smiled demurely. She would be kind, but not too kind. Happy to be here, but not exuberant. Present, but not overly talkative. There were many things Brynleigh had to remember. Her plan hinged on walking a fine line of truth and lies, falseness mixed with the barest amount of reality.

The guard entered the Hall of Choice, and Brynleigh followed behind. Keeping her head down, she discreetly took in her surroundings. Several flashing red lights blinked at her from within vases and above doors, hiding cameras that were probably displaying her procession through the hall to the members of the Republic.

In preparation for this moment, Brynleigh had spent hours studying the blueprints for the Hall of Choice. The building was practically palatial, and not only did it house the participants of the Choosing, but it boasted an expansive ballroom, several staterooms, two prodigious libraries, and an industrial kitchen equipped to feed everyone needed to keep the building running. The residential area of the Hall of Choice was mirrored, with one section for men and another for women.

Hushed whispers filtered beneath closed doors as the guard led Brynleigh towards the Crimson Lounge. Most people wouldn't be able to make out their words, but the moon goddess had blessed vampires with the best hearing of everyone in the Republic. Even dragon shifters, with their extensive senses, couldn't hear as well as children of the night.

Tuning out the clicking of her heels on the marble tile, Brynleigh picked up snippets of conversations.

"My mother loves the Choosing…"

"… Another riot last night in the Eastern Region…"

"There are several elves…"

"… did you see…"

"He's so handsome…"

"… unrest in the Southern…"

Brynleigh's ears perked up at the final comment. News of riots and general unrest wasn't exactly new to her. One would have to be blind not to notice the inequality between the upper and lower classes in the Republic of Balance. Sure, the government said they were all for "equality," but it was all talk. Their actions showed how much they didn't value the lower classes.

In the real world—the one veiled behind a golden sheen—the Representatives and their families were the elite, and the rest of the population was considered less than. The upper class hid behind their rank and used the power of their names as shields from the laws that governed the rest of the continent.

Captain Ryker Waterborn was the perfect fucking example. If he hadn't hidden behind his mother's title, he would've been arrested and tried for the numerous deaths he'd caused.

But that never happened.

Brynleigh's family and their entire human village died, and no one paid the price for their lives .

One day, they were living happily. The next, they were gone. Dead, as if they'd never existed.

Brynleigh was finally taking matters into her own hands. For once, the archaic laws of the Republic were working in her favor. Captain Waterborn was duty-bound to participate in the Choosing, and sometime tonight, he'd be walking into the same building. He could hide from many things and become a recluse; he could wipe any trace of himself away, but even he had to obey the laws requiring the offspring of Representatives to join the Choosing.

"Here we are." The guard stopped in front of a golden door. He bowed. "Good luck, and may the gods bless your Choice."

"My name is Yvette Videntis," the redheaded Death Elf standing before Brynleigh exclaimed. Her voice was rather loud, and the vampire winced.

Yvette's hair was a loose, strawberry waterfall down her back, and she drank from a ruby goblet. While Brynleigh's dress was long and fit her like a glove, Yvette's dress was short and strapless. It did little to support Yvette's cleavage, and the material stopped mid-thigh. It was white, the traditional color most people wore to the Choosing.

The custom hearkened back to the Rose Empire when the Empresses would wear white on the day they met their potential husband during the opening ceremony of the Marriage Games.

Remembering her manners, Brynleigh forced herself to smile. "Nice to meet you."

When Brynleigh had initially entered the Crimson Lounge a few minutes ago, she'd been taken aback by all the red. The entire room was awash in it. The couches, the rugs, and even the paintings were all shades of the same color. Scarlet, crimson, maroon, and cerise were splashed throughout the space.

Their theme was probably love, but Brynleigh would rather interpret it as blood. Each Choosing had its own theme. Once, it had been a jungle. Another time, it had been fire and ice.

This one was good. Perfect, actually. The color reminded Brynleigh of her deadly purpose.

Yvette smiled kindly. "What's your name?"

Brynleigh didn't exactly want to share her life story with the Death Elf, but they were the only two here. After a moment, she said, "Brynleigh de la Point."

Her fingers went to her neck, twisting her necklace as a pang of agony ran through her. She shoved that emotion deep inside.

Once, she'd had another name. It was stolen by a rush of water in the middle of the night. Drowned, that name was forever gone. She'd given it up the same night her family had been taken from her. Now, following vampiric tradition, she used the name of her Maker.

The warmth in Yvette's voice was genuine as she said, "Nice to meet you. I like your necklace."

Brynleigh's hand fell, and she grimaced. "Thank you. It's an heirloom."

She really didn't want to get into it further.

"You're a vampire, right?" Yvette asked sweetly, her gaze sweeping over Brynleigh's. "I noticed your black eyes when you first walked in."

Obsidian eyes, sharp fangs, and a predisposed hatred of silver and wooden stakes were things all vampires in the Republic of Balance shared.

"Yes." Brynleigh nodded, hoping the questions would end soon.

Thank all the gods, a resounding gong sounded at the door, saving her from further interrogation. The exuberant Yvette went to greet the newcomer, and after exhaling and shaking out her shoulders, Brynleigh followed.

A beautiful elf with russet skin and silky midnight hair twisted in an intricate braid walked into the lounge. Gold earrings dangled from her pointed ears. Layers of gossamer white fabric hung over her shoulders, artfully covering the important bits of her body before pooling on the floor. She looked like a goddess brought to life.

The elf's gaze swept over the crimson room before landing on the pair. She smiled. "Hello, my name's Esmeralda Larousse, but most people call me Esme. It's nice to meet you."

Yvette handed Esme a ruby glass filled with wine of the same color. She seemed a natural hostess as she ushered Esme over to the couches. Brynleigh trailed behind, hoping that her lack of speed would save her from being the target of any more questions.

Luckily, it seemed Yvette was happy to learn about Esme. "What kind of elf are you?"

Esme sipped the wine. "A Light Elf, though my grandfather on my mother's side is a dragon shifter."

Yvette gasped and leaned closer, intrigue scrawled across her face. "Are you a descendant of the Carinoc dragons?"

"Mhmm." Esme nodded, taking another sip.

Yvette looked impressed, and honestly, Brynleigh felt the same way. As a child, she'd often heard the story behind the Carinoc dragons. Their miraculous survival and subsequent contribution to the Battle of Balance were the stuff of legend.

"Can you shift?" Brynleigh asked, unable to help herself. She'd never met a dragon before.

Esme looked over the back of the couch and shook her head. "Unfortunately not. My elven side is much stronger, but my brother can."

"Really?" Yvette's eyes gleamed.

"Yep." Esme took an enthusiastic swallow of her wine. "His dragon is emerald. It's stunning."

"Fascinating!" the Death Elf exclaimed. She asked Esme a slew of questions, making Brynleigh eternally thankful that she was no longer the target of Yvette's interrogation.

Esme didn't seem to mind the questions one bit. She told them where she grew up (the plains of the Western Region), her favorite food (chocolate cake, and honestly? That was also Brynleigh's favorite before she was Made), what she did for a living (unsurprisingly, her father was an Elven Representative, so she was training to take his place when he retired).

Thank all the gods, neither of the women seemed to notice Brynleigh's silence. The vampire procured a glass of blood wine from the bartender, a quiet human with black hair and kind eyes.

By the time Yvette had run out of questions, more women had joined them .

Armed with her beverage and a desire not to answer any more questions, Brynleigh stationed herself against the back wall. She studied the participants as they filtered in, taking slow sips of her drink. Blood wine, like all alcohol except for Faerie Wine, didn't really affect vampires, but Brynleigh didn't want to risk being anything but alert.

Soon, the room was packed. Some women were as tall as her, while others were shorter. A werewolf with glowing orange eyes entered, followed by four more elves, two fae, and a shifter of some kind. So far, Brynleigh was the only vampire. Eleven women were present, and they were just missing one.

Excitement filled the air as the women milled around and introduced themselves. No one seemed to notice that Brynleigh was standing off by herself, which was exactly how she liked it.

An elf with long silver hair twisted in an elaborate knot sauntered up to Yvette.

"So, who do you think the last one is?" She twisted a lock of her hair through her fingers. "A child of a Representative or a commoner?"

Standing a few feet away, Brynleigh scowled. How dare the elf draw such a blatant line between the upper and lower classes?

Yvette didn't miss a beat before she shrugged. "I don't know, but regardless, they'll probably be a wonderful person. You shouldn't be so quick to judge others."

Just like that, Yvette rose much higher in Brynleigh's books.

The elf sneered. "It's not judging if it's true. My mother always says?—"

The gong sounded one final time, cutting off the classist elf. The door didn't open immediately, though, and something felt different. Narrowing her eyes, Brynleigh pushed off the back wall and stood beside Yvette. The vampire's shadows swirled in her veins, urging her to pay attention. Some people followed their gut, but Brynleigh followed the call of her darkness. It hadn't steered her wrong yet.

The next contestant to walk through the door would be dangerous. As someone who claimed that title herself, Brynleigh felt confident assigning it to another.

Rule number five: always trust your instincts.

When the door finally opened, a tall beauty strode into the room as though she owned it. Danger emanated from her every pore. Blue-black hair was piled on her head, highlighting her pointed, pierced ears. Sharp cheekbones and a long nose looked down on the room. Bright, ruby-red lips were pressed together. Violet eyes glimmered with the promise of violence. Unlike most of the other women, this one wore a scarlet gown. When the light hit it, it sparkled like a thousand rubies were sewn into it.

Next to Brynleigh, Yvette gasped. "The Chancellor's daughter."

Shock rippled through the room.

One of the fae murmured, "I had no idea she was participating in the Choosing."

Brynleigh's heart, which usually mimicked a turtle, sped up. Now, this was interesting.

Dangerous but interesting.

There wasn't a single person in the Republic of Balance who didn't know about Valentina Rose. After all, her mother was Chancellor Ignatia Rose, the head of the entire government. The fae had kept her daughter sequestered and guarded for decades, only parading her out for select functions with the Representatives. She was so well hidden that no one knew which element her magic favored.

But now, Valentina was out in public. Here. At the Choosing.

Brynleigh studied the fae. Something about the other woman made her feel on edge.

Valentina's sharp gaze swung around the room. She silently assessed each participant until her violet eyes locked onto Brynleigh's black ones.

Those red lips twisted into an ugly sneer. "I thought this was a classy competition. Who let the bloodsucker in?"

Inhaling sharply, Brynleigh tightened her grip around her glass of wine. This wasn't the first time she'd heard that particular insult, or even the hundredth, but she hated it all the same.

Most people in the Republic of Balance didn't harbor much love for vampire kind. Growing up as a human, Brynleigh had seen some of the side glances directed towards children of the night. She'd heard the stories of vampires who ripped through the throats of others for fun. She'd learned about the Firsts who'd terrorized the previous Kingdom of Eleyta before being entombed in Hoarfrost Hollow, the evil Queen Marguerite and her Favorites, and the Last King and Queen who ruled Eleyta.

None of that knowledge could have prepared Brynleigh for the hatred she'd encountered since her Making.

No one seemed to like vampires, probably because they were Made, not born. Unlike the other species who would Fade after centuries of life, Isvana's children were truly immortal.

Those violet eyes drilled into Brynleigh as if daring her to respond. With every passing second, the vampire's anger grew. Was Valentina purposefully baiting her? Wanting her to lash out?

Brynleigh's spine straightened, and she drew a few dark wisps from her veins. They gathered around her palms, and she slowly placed her wineglass on the nearest surface.

The other ten women glanced between Brynleigh and Valentina before taking a collective step back. The tension in the room ratcheted up as the seconds passed.

Valentina raised a manicured brow and snorted. "Do you have nothing to say, leech? No way to defend yourself? How very typical ."

Brynleigh snarled, and she clamped her mouth shut. A sharp burst came from her mouth, and she tasted blood as her tongue came too close to her fangs.

Get a fucking grip , she chided. You're not a Fledgling anymore .

Although technically, that wasn't exactly true. Jelisette had worked closely with Brynleigh to help her overcome the initial urges of being a new vampire, but she was still less than a decade old. The danger with Fledglings was that since they were newly Made, they were less in control than other, older vampires.

Historically, hundreds of Fledgling vampires had succumbed to bloodlust, embarking on murderous rampages that ended with stakes shoved through their hearts.

Definitely not the outcome Brynleigh desired.

With help from Zanri and Jelisette, along with a significant amount of meditation, Brynleigh had successfully kept her murderous impulses under control. That was one of Z's main jobs as her handler: ensuring she only killed the right people at the right time.

Too bad he wasn't here right now. At this moment, there was nothing Brynleigh would love more than to dig her fangs into Valentina's pale neck and teach the fae a lesson about respect. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Brynleigh had a bigger kill in mind than some fae with definite mean-girl vibes.

Still, Brynleigh would keep an eye on Valentina. One day, when they weren't in the middle of a competition for love, she would destroy her.

"I have nothing to say to you." Brynleigh finally broke her silence.

Her mother, the gods be with her soul, had always taught Brynleigh and her sister that remaining silent was the best course of action if they didn't have anything kind to say. It had never been more difficult than it was at this very moment.

Valentina scowled. "Whatever. I'm going to keep an eye on you, bitch."

Brynleigh's nails dug into her palms, cutting open the flesh as she forced herself to remain still.

Thank Isvana, the gong above the door rang once more. This time, an older woman entered. She had silvery hair, her face was worn with age, and her cerise pantsuit matched the red theme of the room. The look would've been garish on anyone else, but somehow, this woman made it seem normal.

She strolled into the middle of the room, either oblivious to or ignorant of the crackling tension that had been building.

"Welcome to the Two Hundredth Choosing." The woman—a human—smiled at each participant in turn. "I'm Lilith, your Matron."

Brynleigh murmured a greeting along with the others.

"I see the gods have selected well for this year's Choosing," Lilith said. "The men will be blessed, no matter who they pick."

Yvette giggled into her wineglass, the drink clearly having gone to her head.

The Matron smiled kindly at the Death Elf before continuing, "Now that you're all here, tonight's itinerary is simple. Eat, drink, and get to know each other." A white brow rose to her forehead. "You're all adults, so I won't be enforcing a curfew. I trust you can behave?"

It was Valentina who smoothly replied, "We certainly can."

There was no trace of the earlier cruelty in the fae's voice, but Brynleigh wouldn't be fooled that easily. She would keep an eye on Valentina. In Brynleigh's experience, the worst types of people were the ones who waited in the shadows for the perfect moment to strike.

"Wonderful." Matron Lilith strode to the bar, picking up the last unclaimed glass of sparkling wine. "You'll be expected to hand over your cellular devices tonight, and your clothes will be delivered by breakfast tomorrow."

"We won't be able to contact anyone at all?" the werewolf asked from her position on the couch. Her orange eyes glowed.

"No." Lilith shook her head. "Outside interference in the Choosing is strictly prohibited. Is that clear, ladies?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brynleigh said, along with the rest of the group.

"Good. Tomorrow, the twelve of you will be split into three groups of four. You'll participate in a series of interviews with select press members." She smiled. "It'll help you ease into things before the Opening Ceremony the day after."

Excited whispers flowed through the room as the women speculated about what they might encounter during the Opening Ceremony. It changed every time, but one thing remained the same—the men and women would not meet.

Brynleigh didn't engage in the chatter. She sipped her wine, her mind already jumping to when she would finally meet the captain.

If the Matron noticed Brynleigh's silence, she didn't say anything. "It would be wise to rest while you still can."

The whispers ceased.

"The gods only know you'll need it in the days ahead." Lilith raised her glass and waited for the women to follow suit. "Congratulations on being selected, and may the gods bless your Choice."

Soon after that, the Matron departed. Brynleigh maintained her position against the wall. Like a hunter eyeing her prize, she assessed each of the women.

After all, they were her competition for Ryker's hand in marriage. She would never forget her reason for being here.

The next day, the interviews went without a hitch. At least, they did for Brynleigh. Others didn't fare so well.

After breakfast, the women were given directions and split into groups. They would each meet with six reporters in interview rooms that were miniature versions of the Crimson Lounge, right down to the red goblets and ruby couches. The first member of the press had been waiting for them upon arrival.

Once the questions began, they went on for hours.

Brynleigh was well-prepared for every single question that came her way. Her answers rolled off her tongue smoothly, sounding practiced but not overly rehearsed. Most of the inquiries directed at her were related to her Maker. Jelisette de la Point was a well-known vampire in the Republic of Balance, and the press was naturally curious about her newest progeny.

Some of the other members of Brynleigh's quad didn't fare so well. Hallie, one of the elves, stumbled over many of her responses. Like Brynleigh, she was not related to any of the Representatives and was instead Selected from the general population to participate in the Choosing. This was a way to keep the main populace happy while ensuring bloodlines within the Representatives remained fresh.

Hallie was a pale, white-haired Fortune Elf with emerald eyes that sparkled as she spoke. She was kind and had greeted Brynleigh as soon as they'd sat down. She was notably nicer than the other women, and there was a softness about her that Brynleigh hadn't seen in a long time.

The reporters were vultures. They picked on Hallie relentlessly when they realized she wasn't as prepared as the others. When the last reporter, a witch from the Eastern Region, closed the door behind her, Hallie was wiping away tears from her green eyes. Her nearly translucent white wings fluttered behind her, betraying her nerves. They'd been doing that since the first reporter started asking them questions hours ago.

"I don't understand why they kept pushing me," Hallie whispered, twisting a tissue through her fingers. "Why wouldn't they leave me alone?"

Brynleigh handed the Fortune Elf a fresh tissue. "Because they're predators." Just like her. "They saw your nerves and fed on them. "

Watching the reporters tear into Hallie had been terrible. This only affirmed Brynleigh's belief that the Choosing, like everything else in the Republic, was unfairly skewed towards the Representatives.

Esme sighed from where she sat on Hallie's other side. "You should ignore them." She brushed a lock of white hair from the Fortune Elf's cheek. "They're curious about us. The Choosing only happens once every ten years, and people want to know about the participants."

"It's easier for you." Hallie blew her nose. "How long have you known you'd be participating?"

"Since I was old enough to understand what the Choosing was," Esme admitted. "It's my birthright."

Like Brynleigh, Esme's answers had been practiced and perfect.

The fourth member of their quad was Trinity, the werewolf. She was soft-spoken. Her great-uncle was the new Alpha of the Northern Werewolves. An extremely rude reporter had dared ask about Trinity's older sister Malika, who'd died last year. Malika had initially been the one destined for the Choosing.

Trinity had barely made it through her answers before bursting into tears. She, too, clung to a tissue.

"Maybe tomorrow will be better," Trinity said hopefully.

Hallie sniffled. "Maybe."

Probably not. Beneath the facade of caring about equality, the Representatives were cold, hard people who only looked out for themselves. That's what made them so dangerous and why infiltrating their ranks was so difficult. They were powerful, wealthy, and commanded the entire world.

If Hallie and Trinity were lucky, they would find strength within themselves before the others tore them to shreds.

If not, Brynleigh would add their names to the growing list of people she was avenging.