Truly Elected (Book Two of The Next Selection Series)

Chapter 16

I don't know how much time passed by. It could have been an hour or perhaps several; I wouldn't know the difference. Matthew sat cross-legged, his hand brushing back Lacey's coarse mane. He hadn't said anything, and neither had I. Instead, I stared absent-mindedly at the stars, their twinkling majesties dotting the sky. One always glowed brighter than the rest. 

I don't know when I heard them again, but when I did, I immediately sat up and looked to Matthew. He head heard it to, crawling over to me. His suit pants, a nice beige before, was covered in dark brown muck; my gown was not better with blades of grass caught in the tulle and muddy water dying the sky blue bottom brown. His hands came around me, holding me close as I parted the tall grass. It was a miracle that they hadn't found us before... and it was a miracle that they didn't discover us a second time either. 

We waited five minutes after they disappeared into the forest before we stood up; Micah and Lacey followed. I stretched for a few seconds, my back to Matthew. So I was really surprised when his husky voice infiltrated my ears in a low whisper, his hands tracing around me like a slow snake, settling on my stomach.

"They may be gone, but that doesn't mean that we won't see another group. Their numbers seem smaller." I felt his lips connect with the spot in between my neck and my shoulder, a soft moan escaping me. My eyes flicked to his, and a devious smile settled on his lips. Smirking, I turned around in his grasp.

"I know how to take care of myself, you know." I flicked his nose, causing him to back away. Smirking at him from over my shoulder, I glided toward Lacey and took hold of her reigns. "We better get going; it's a long way back to the palace."

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"I'm famished." Matthew commented as we entered the palace. Despite our dirtied attire, guards still bowed to him as if he were wearing clothing weaved with gold. 

"You ate a few hours ago." I joked, heading toward the main hallway. Though a rebel attack had just occurred, few things appeared to be out of place. There were a few shattered windows, a curtain had been torn, and portraits had been ripped from the walls; but everything else seemed perfectly normal to my greatest relief.

"Yeah, but I'm a growing boy," Matthew patted his stomach when we turned a corner, the guards out of sight. "You can't deprive a growing boy of food. We're ravenous."

"You're nineteen Matthew, hardly a boy anymore." I chastised over my shoulder. "Also, don't speak of boys as if they were a wild and dangerous species."

Matthew chuckled at my joke, taking my hand and pulling me along. My legs burned from hours of sitting and squatting outside, but I complied with the light tug from his hand. Eventually, I couldn't tell where we were anymore.

"Loosen up my dear," Matthew teased, noticing how tense my hand had become. "That's the door to the kitchen just up ahead."

I rolled my eyes before looking at a metallic double door with too circular shaped windows on the top. "Don't call me that." I muttered as Matthew pushed one open and we entered the large kitchen facility.

It was enormous. Sinks among sinks lined the walls, set by stoves, ovens, microwaves, pots, pans, wooden spoons and blenders, and so many other cooking utensils and tools that my mind spun just looking at my surroundings. Back at the farm, we were lucky enough to have a singular wooden spoon, a large bowl for mixing, and a small oven to accommodate our hungry bellies. This room was any chef's dream. 

From in here, I could here the distant beeping of trucks in reverse: most likely food trucks by the sound. My eyes continued to scan the room, flying across the row of refrigerators until they landed on an open one. A lanky figure stood hunched over in the open door, their pants swaying from side to side as they searched through shelves of food.