The War Outside Page 11

  Outside, I think, might be a little different.

  Three hard knocks come at the door, startling me from thought.

  Daniel is just starting to rise when the door opens. In walks Mother Terra, who instantly pins me in place with her gaze.

  I swallow. “Revered Mother,” I say.

  “Ma’am,” Daniel adds.

  “Mister and Missus Cross,” she says. “I hope you have found your accommodations fitting.”

  “They’re fine,” I say, then mentally curse myself for speaking so casually. I rise from my place atop the love seat and take a few steps forward to clear the distance between us. “I assume you’re here to discuss my Purpose?”

  “Why else would I have come?” she asks. She glances at Daniel for a moment before returning her eyes to me. “I take it you had no complications arriving?”

  “No,” I say. “I mean, we had none, no. I was just… scared.”

  “You’ve a right to be, my dear. You’re probably the biggest target in the capitol besides either the First Lady, the Commandant, or the Countess herself.”

  “But why?” I ask. “Is it because of my appearance? My Purpose? My place in the media?”

  “Very few people know your Designated Purpose, Kelendra.”

  “Then why am I being targeted?”

  “Because your death could easily cause unrest within the populace.”

  I blink, stunned.

  Mother Terra turns her head to look at the city beyond and says, “Your position within the city’s hierarchy is laughable to some at best, revered at most to others. You are privileged—far more so than most within the city—and because of that, some see you as a person of interest. Your picture being so widely broadcast within the city, and even beyond—”

  “Beyond?” I ask.

  “—makes you the perfect target to cause disruption.”

  “How would my death cause disruption? I mean… I’m just a girl.”

  “You’re a Beautiful One, Kelendra. Many people in the city revere you in a way we have never seen. Were you to be killed…” She pauses. “It would likely cause civil unrest. Riots in the streets. And, dare I say, potentially even attempts on our politicians’ lives.”

  “So, keeping her alive is a high priority,” Daniel interjects.

  “Yes. Which leads me to my next point, and the question that will follow.”

  I wait in silent apprehension.

  “Kelendra Elizabeth Cross,” Mother Terra says. “As the most distinguished Beautiful One within the Glittering City, the Countess, and her husband the Commandant, believe it would be best if you announce your Designation to the war against the Terrible North publicly, during a live press conference that would be seen and heard throughout the entire city tomorrow, at eight o’clock AM sharp. What say you to this?”

  “I—” I begin. “I don’t—”

  Daniel rises.

  Mother Terra turns and stops him in place with a single glare.

  And I, unable to comprehend what has just been asked of me, merely stand there, mouth agape.

  This is it.

  It’s finally coming full circle.

  I’m to Designate my Purpose to the whole of the Glittering City—and, possibly, the world.

  My only question is: can I do it?

  Ten

  Hair and makeup is torture, the lighting like a funeral, the people around me specters in an otherwise-normal world. This press meeting, as important as it happens to be for the scope of my Purpose and for the war itself, terrifies me to no end, and I have no idea how I will get through it.

  This is like the Procession, I think as a makeup artist I do not know dabs eyeshadow to the lids of my eyes.

  The pain, the anxiety, the desperation, the complete and utter need to be free—it haunts me, in a way that I have never felt before, not only because I am to be presented before people who will judge me, but because I will be far more exposed than I have ever been in my life.

  Thankfully, it will take place in only one room, with only a few screened people present. There will be absolutely no chance of anyone assassinating me.

  At least, I can only hope.

  As the makeup artist finishes applying my makeup, and as my hair is coiffed to ensure that it is resting properly upon my face, I turn my head to look at Mother Terra, who only offers me a nod of approval in response.

  “Are we almost ready?” the Revered Mother then asks.

  “Almost,” the man adjusting the lighting says. “Pretty soon the stage will be all hers.”

  I swallow.

  This stage the man is speaking of is simply a podium, behind which our tri-colored flag with the phoenix’s logo is arranged.

  It takes only a moment for me to notice that, in my blue dress, I represent the sorrow in that flag.

  Remain calm. Composed. Complicit. You are in control here.

  Am I, though? It baffles me to think that, but as the cameraman and the lighting crew continue to compose the scene, I realize that any outside interference will be seen as them silencing my voice, my declaration, and my Purpose.

  The reality is utterly daunting.

  Just remember, Mother Terra had said only ten minutes before, to not say anything you’ll regret.

  Don’t I already regret everything I’ve gone through, though?

  I don’t know—and that, without a shadow of a doubt, is what scares me.

  Within moments, the woman leading the press conference clears her throat and says, “We’re ready.”

  In seconds I am walking forward.

  And in less than a minute, this whole thing will begin.

  I stand firm and rigid before the podium at which I am to give my speech. Terrified, but at the same time, liberated, I lift my eyes to face the red light on the camera and exhale a trembling breath.

  “All right,” the press director says. “We’re going live in five seconds. Four seconds. Three seconds.”

  Two, I think, one…

  The camera’s light goes dark, then brightens again.

  Then I am on live television, and saying, “Hello, Glittering City.”

  Then there is silence in my pause, deafening in its intensity and harrowing in its intent.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and say, “My name is Kelendra Elizabeth Cross, and I am here to tell you about my Designated Purpose.

  “Throughout my life, I have lived within the shadow of war, always afraid that somehow, someway, the men from the North would come and destroy my life. Back then, before I was a Beautiful One, I had no way to counteract what was going to be done, or what was going to be said.

  “Now, I am in a position to do something about it.”

  I imagine their faces at home, in their offices, on the streets, as they look upon my countenance, beautiful and blue and speaking the truth, and I wonder what they must be thinking. Is she brave? I know they wonder. Is she afraid? I can’t know what they think, but I know that they will face me as any persecutor would, as any judge would do, and as such, prepare myself for the wholly defiant thing I am about to do.

  Trembling, I say, “I am going to dedicate my Purpose to the Great War.”

  No one says a word.

  The silence is deafening.

  I wait for the moment to sink in—for someone, anyone, to come forward and rip the microphone from its place atop the podium. But when no one does, I merely nod and continue.

  “I plan,” I say, “as the Countess’ and Commandant’s Ambassador to the Great War, to spearhead a movement that will allow the troops to know that the capitol, and its people, care for them, no matter their place or purpose or declaration to this conflict. This will begin with this speech, and will continue with a delivery of supplies and food… brought by none other than me.”

  This time, the people within the room do begin to whisper.

  “My name is Kelendra Elizabeth Cross,” I continue as I catch sight of Mother Terra making her way forward out my peripheral, “and I designate my
Purpose to the Great War.”

  The camera shifts.

  The lights go off.

  Mother Terra approaches with anger in her eyes.

  She says, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  And I, high with power, reply, “Doing what I think is right.”

  “Are you out of your damn mind? Do you honestly think that you will be going beyond the walls to visit a camp on the Divide?”

  “If I don’t go now,” I say, “what will the people think of me?”

  Mother Terra has no reply.

  The smile that comes to my face is a sentence to something inhospitable and mean.

  The Gentlewoman merely says, “Return her to her room” and jerks her head toward the SAD troops in the conference room. “I don’t want to see or think of her again until I must.”

  The SADs step forward; and rather than usher me along gently, they grab my upper arms and begin to drag me along.

  “You can’t stop me!” I call out as we approach the doorway. “I’ve declared it! It has to be done now!”

  My childish words are merely fuel to an ever-burning fire.

  No longer will the war remain silent.

  No.

  Now, it will scream.

  Daniel is upon me the moment I enter the room. “You’re crazy,” he says. “Absolutely, one-hundred percent crazy.”

  “I know,” I say. “But it had to be done.”

  “You honestly think they’re going to let you go through with it?”

  “They have to,” I say. “Otherwise, the capitol will be seen as liars.”

  I nod.

  Daniel frowns.

  I take a few steps forward.

  Daniel follows in kind.

  At the window, I cross my arms over my chest and look down at the city, whereupon a large screen upon a single building my speech is being streamed for the masses below.

  “You watched it live,” I say, “right?”

  “Yeah. I watched it live.”

  “And it wasn’t altered in any way? Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Which means that it’s on a loop,” I say, jutting my chin toward the city below. “Which means that my message is being sent.”

  “And what message is that?”

  “That I am strong. That I am independent. That I am ruthless in my quest to get what I want.”

  “What exactly do you want, though?

  I laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I want better treatment for those outside the walls, and this is the way to get it.”

  “By defying the government?”

  “You can’t defy rules that have never been explained to you. Besides—I was only told to think about what I would say, not what I shouldn’t say.”

  Daniel says nothing. Rather, he comes to stand beside me and looks out over the buildings rather than down at the streets, a frown cursing his lips and darkening his already-stormy features. “You may have just made a huge mistake.”

  “I know.”

  “But I’m not going to question you about it anymore.”

  “Oh really?” I turn my head to face him. “And why is that?”

  “Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  “You’re right. I am.”

  A knock comes at the door, pulling me from thought.

  “Want to take a guess on who that is?” Daniel asks just as the door opens to reveal none other than Mother Terra.

  The Gentlewoman comes to a halt in front of the two of us and centers her stern gaze directly on me. “Kelendra,” she says.

  “Ma’am,” I reply.

  “I have just spoken with our Countess.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “And?”

  With a scowl, Mother Terra says, “She has agreed to your proposition.”

  “It wasn’t up for debate.”

  “As was made clear,” the Gentlewoman replies. “She has just informed me that you will be dispatched to the Rita Blanca sector of the Divide within the next few days. I, by her whim, will be your escort.”

  “You?” I ask. “Isn’t that—”

  “Inappropriate? Yes. It is. However—given your… rash declaration, there is little we can do about it. Besides: it is not uncommon for Gentlewomen to accompany Beautiful Ones during matters of great importance.”

  “I see.”

  “I would suggest that you begin preparing yourself adequately for the journey ahead.”

  “I want to go with,” Daniel says.

  “The Countess has forbidden it.”

  “What are you—”

  “This is a declaration of Purpose, Mr. Cross. Men are not involved in them. As such, you will not be granted authority to leave the city.”

  “And if I refuse to obey orders?”

  “We will have you arrested and charged with treason.”

  “Are you sure that’s necessary?” I ask. “I mean… given that Daniel is my husband and all?”

  “He would be tried as anyone attempting to interfere in governmental activities would be. Treason results in imprisonment, Mr. Cross. Be sure to remember that.”

  “I will,” he replies.

  “Now,” Mother Terra says, turning her eyes back on me. “There is another matter that needs to be addressed before we leave.”

  The way her gaze settles on me instantly leaves my stomach swimming.

  “Have you been intimate?” she asks.

  I blush, but say, “Yessum.”

  “And you’ve not used any protective methods?”

  “No ma’am,” Daniel says.

  “This is where your gynecological exam will come in, Kelendra.”

  “An exam?” I ask. “You mean… they want to check if I’m—”

  “Pregnant. Yes.”

  I swallow.

  Daniel sighs and turns his head away.

  Mother Terra looks from him, to me, then back to Daniel again before returning her attention to me. “You do know that the doctor will inform me if you’re lying. Correct?”

  “We’ve been intimate,” I say. “Really—an exam isn’t necessary.”

  “Oh, but it is. Because if you are pregnant, you will not be allowed beyond these walls.”

  “But—”

  The Gentlewoman shakes her head. “That is all I will say on the matter,” she says, then turns and makes her way toward the door. “Now then. Follow me, Kelendra.”

  “We’re going now?” I ask, unable to hide the shock in my voice. “Can’t it wait?”

  “And risk a lie? Or deception?” She ‘tsks’ and shakes her head. “You have already proven to be contrary, Missus Cross. We will not allow anything to interfere with the Countess’ vision.”

  “Say we weren’t,” I reply. “What would you do?”

  “There are ways to fertilize you if that is what you are asking.”

  “And how do I know you’re not going to do that now? At this appointment? To force me to become pregnant so I can’t leave?”

  Mother Terra narrows her eyes. “It will be a visual exam only. I promise you that.”

  I turn my eyes on Daniel, but find that he is gazing out the window. The only way he could acknowledge me, if he even wanted to, is out his peripheral, and I know he wouldn’t try with the Revered Mother present.

  With a sigh, I step forward and say, “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

  Though the room is cold and sterile, my thoughts burn with the desire for this to be over. Seated within a single chair, upon which I wait for the doctor to arrive, I tremble not from the chill permeating the room, but the nerves fluttering about my stomach.

  “What’s taking so long?” I ask, shifting in my seat.

  “The doctor has other patients, Kelendra.”

  “I know, but… I thought I was a priority.”

  “You are.”

  Am I, though? We’ve been waiting for what seems like an eternity, but unfortunately, there is no clock in here to gauge time, so I cannot know for certain how long we’ve been i
nside this room.

  Besides, I then think. Do I really want this to start? At least if the doctor’s late, she may leave; and if she leaves, I may be able to get out of this entirely.

  No, my conscience offers. You’re not that lucky.

  I suppose I’m not.

  I am just about to open my mouth to ask when the door opens.

  It is not a woman who steps in though.

  It is a man—so young that he appears to barely be older than Daniel.

  I swallow a lump in my throat as he lifts a clipboard and says, “Missus Cross is here for a… family planning consultation?”

  “Yes,” Mother Terra states. “She is.”

  “Where’s the doctor?” I ask, unable to prevent the edge from creeping into my voice.

  “Oh. My apologies.” The man extends his hand. “My name’s Doctor Chen. I’ll be the one consulting today.”

  I don’t touch his hand. Rather, I say, “I’d prefer a female doctor” and shrink back from him.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m the only doctor on call.”

  “Doctor Chen comes highly recommended,” Mother Terra says. “He is an expert on human sexuality.”

  “You flatter me, Revered Mother.” He pulls up a chair and seats himself upon it. “Now. Shall we?”

  The Revered Mother seats herself in a chair at the corner of the room and waits expectantly.

  Doctor Chen leans forward to consult the clipboard and says, “Mrs. Cross.”

  “Yes?” I ask, trembling.

  “I was informed that you were recently married. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have also been made aware that we are consulting primarily due to the Countess’ decision to allow you outside the walls.”

  “Correct.”

  “We are here today to discuss whether or not you might be pregnant—and, if necessary: to perform a pregnancy test.”

  I squirm in my seat.

  The doctor ignores this and asks, “Do you engage in intercourse with your husband?”

  “I do,” I say.

  “When engaging, do you do so with or without contraceptives?”

  “With what?” I ask, frowning.

  “Contraceptive. Condoms.” He pauses. “A plastic sheath that goes over your husband’s penis.”