The Daughter Of Illéa

Chapter 67

The shot was echoing through my head, banging against the walls of my brain. All I could manage was the thought: rebel attack.

Our heels were undoubtably hitting the surface of the rock at astonishing speed, my grass stained dress in my hands, and my hair that was once up in pins, now down and frilly, probably tangled with humidity.

As Piper reached the edge of the concrete, the sight of people and echoing music filled our ears as the guests of Aria's wedding danced freely.

With my respiratory system fed up, I plopped into the closest seat next to me, behind a crowd of clapping people. Piper flipped her hair dramatically, knocking a twig to the ground, as she too, sat down.

"Why aren't they scared...or running?" She whispered over the booming speakers sitting on top of a white, vine thoroughly wrapped, wooden post set behind us.

I look around, receiving only a few undelightful glares from a selected group of Angeles citizens in the back.
"They didn't hear it...the musics blaring." I reply. "Besides it was one shot. The person was undetected. Let's just...be natural." She nods, taking the advice as she wipes her dress, and fixes her makeup in a spoon, helping me with blotches of mascara and grass as well.

"This is how the makeup artist got rid of displeasing pieces of art before a shoot." She adds, wiping below my eye after blending in the stain on my dress.

After many minutes of watching Aria and Marsh dance under the sunlight, the crowd in front of us began to decrease as the music hit the climax stage, and people danced in groups with champagne in their hands and smiles on their faces. One face in particular struck out to me, as it always had.

Gus' was dancing in the midst of selected and some of those ladies that weren't chosen, but still stunning. He was laughing, his dimples wooing the women. I couldn't help the smile rise to my lips, as I saw the one I never depicted to be mine before me.

"Your chances are high you know." Piper said, matter of fact, her voice changing at the sip of the wine in her grasp.

"You faith is strong." I laugh, adjusting my seat so I could stop blushing in his direction. "besides he's still got that blackmail from New Asia."

Piper laughed, and for once she was beautiful. Not stunning. Beautiful. Her pecan hair glowing in the May sun, as her tan skin complimented her perfect teeth. However, despite the fact of the faded bruise from which my knuckles made and the twigs and leaves now circled around her, she was unavoidable. She looked genuine and caring and all of those words you wish you could about someone, but you just can't because it's impossible. Was this the sight Gus saw when he looked at her? If it was, I'd gladly take my place back in Atlin, because the way she presented herself just by smiling, made her irresistible to the human eye.

"Augustus' is coming." She said, not looking away from my face, a smile still plastered against hers. "Here." She said, dropping a napkin in my lap, leaning over to get it. At least that's what it looked like to pedestrians walking by as she pushed up my boobs, "waking them up" she'd say.
"Get him tiger." She winked, before grabbing her glass and strutting off in some direction.

In those moments, I kind of began fidgeting. I'd go to grab the drink, but nothing was in it, and I just looked like the most unnatural person to ever live on this Earth.
"Trying to find something?" Gus said, plopping down into the seat that Piper pulled out twenty minutes ago.
"Uhm-" I placed my hands over my face. "-no," I laugh. "I'm not."
"Well, if that's the case," he grabbed my hands, and pulled at my arms. "I'd like to steal a dance."
"What, the chic on the streets, and the freak in the sheets aren't doing it for ya?" I laugh, nodding to the two models, who I recognized from Genevieve's magazines, dancing as that keep looking back at Gus.
He rolls his eyes, "no, it's just I want you..." He empathized, "to dance, with muah."
"Well, that's a shame, because I'm going to check to see if I got my letter back." I explain as his face drops.
"Seriously?" He whined. "That's like the twelfth time tonight."
"The second, thank you very much." I stand with a smirk. "Besides, it's been two weeks since I wrote to Char. She's usually active on these types of things, so I'm just going to check."
"Fine." He stood with me, looking at me rather suspiciously. "You really love that girl, don't you?"
I laugh, "She's my best friend. Now, go enjoy the party."
He starts to trudge away when he turns, "but it'll be over in nearly ten minutes!"
"Well, then I'll see you later." I smiled, teasingly walking off and up the stairs, and into the palace.

***

Many people were walking through the halls with drinks and appetizers, some drinking alcohol, and some that were wise enough not too. Different varieties of people waltzed about the first floor, some leaving, and some staying until after. However, I wasn't waiting to see the aftermath of this wedding. Instead, I took my toll upstairs.

With my heels in my hands, and my hair now knotted up into a careless and rather messy bun, I found my room quickly.

"I'm back!" I echoed throughout my suite as I swung open the door. Silence. "Okay then," I shrugged, throwing my shoes to the side as I walk to the dresser to get changed.
Pants. I thought, as I dragged out some plaid pajama pants, pulling them on under my dress. My dress. I felt absolutely blessed Gus didn't see, or at least didn't ask. I was in the midst of pulling off my dress when I noticed something: a cream colored envelope laying on my bed.

"CHARLESTON!" I gasped, a smile brung to my lips as I dropped my dress back to my sides and jumped onto my bed, ripping the top and pulling out the letter.

I opened it, the paper crisp to the touch, and excitement flourishing through me, as advice at last was here.
A square. A picture, gallantly flowing to my lap as I unfolded the letter. However, I didn't take much notice of it until I read it. The one word.

Snitch.

My heart dropped. I read the word fifty times, and none of it made sense until I picked up the picture and the fiery red head with the wit of an elder was smiling back at me.
"Charleston." I whispered, and it was in that moment, I knew. I dropped the letter, the picture, and ran for the door. I was on the first floor before I knew it, begging for reassurance from any who listened, as I ran for the women's room with such speed I made cheetahs jealous.

It took a moment to shake open the door that was always shut, but when I did, I dove into the room, panic soaring through me. "No. No. No. No." I repeated, but when I grabbed the remote to the television and turned it on, Channel Six was read on the bottom left of the screen.

The man sitting at the table was stern and serious, with slicked back black hair and furrowed brows as he announced the Breaking News.
"It's true, Suzanne."
I could hear the people behind me from the party walking towards me, like an alarmed citizen with a beast at it's grasp. I probably appeared like one too, with my grass stained dress and pajama pants and a expression on my face marked with terror.
"The province of Kent, has been under alert ever since the rebel attack last night. Twelve were injured in the fire, and two killed."
I felt a grasp grab me from behind and try pulling me from the television, but it was to late.
"One being, of those ex-selected, Charleston Tonks." Her face, smiling and witty, flashed across the screen like it did the night she was selected.
My heart dropped, and tears were puddled around me, as I swung in ever direction I could, hitting the holder of me dozens of times. Eventually, all I could do was scream and sob into the persons arms, as I heard the news of the death. The murder. Of my best friend. I want to say the rebels did it. They killed her. But I can't say that. Because I wrote the letter.
I killed her.
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