Darkly Devoted (Book 1, 2, 3)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

THE ENTRANCE of Pearl Tower was composed entirely of blocks of marble but the doors were made of bronze. As Vivienne passed through them, she saw a small inscription on the handles with the artisan's signature — it said Lamken Janvier.

The inductees were herded out of the grand foyer, around a narrow hallway separated from an indoor courtyard and into a meeting hall. There were five more inductees already there, making the total nine. Each of the other five inductees was more beautiful than the last. It made Vivienne wonder why she was picked at all. Sallen must have been thinking the same thing because she pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face.

Ten inductees are picked every season to join the ranks of the Orlins. This time, there were only nine. Normally, they would wait until the last one was chosen before holding the Midnight Masquerade, but this year they decided to continue anyway. This was an unheard-of number as normally they were lucky to have one. A Prince who was up for an Orlin could not be made to wait. Almost twenty lords were participating in the Midnight Masquerade as well, but some of them participated every year and never found an Orlin to suit their fickle tastes.

Madame Jyger gave a lecture on the origins of the Orlins. A couple of hundreds of years ago, the inventors in Manna City discovered a potion called the Nectar. Nectar could cure all diseases. Not only was it useful in aiding the sick, but it also made the drinker smarter, younger, faster. Over time, however, they discovered that Nectar was not the key to immortality. It eventually drove the drinker insane, sometimes even to crave human flesh.

For those who chose to drink Nectar, they soon found it had a price. For the super-rich, they could buy pills to keep themselves sane. For those who couldn't afford it but had some semblance of respectability — binding themselves to an Orlin was an alternative solution.

By binding themselves to a human who was not tainted by Nectar, the elite could keep their sanity. That's where the Order of the Orlins came in. Unfortunately, not all bonds were created equal. Some Orlins and Ansuras simply fit together better, like soulmates.

Vivienne felt increasingly disgusted at the idea of being an Orlin. The people outside of Manna City never questioned why they were being chosen to accompany the elite society members like beloved house pets. They were too bedazzled by the promise of riches and fame to ask why.

A question that bugged Vivienne that no one bothered to address was what happened to the Orlins who were bound to the Nectar-drinking elite. If they lived forever, then would they require a new Orlin so frequently? If they were capable of living forever then why is it that the papers never picked up on it? It seemed to Vivienne that the elite was disappearing and being replaced in a whirlwind every year.

On the second day of their time at the Pearl Tower, they had a visitor. He was named Killian Henton, and he brought his nephew, Calbert Henton, along with him. Killian Henton oversaw the Midnight Masquerade, and he needed to inspect each inductee prior to their introduction into elite society. Each of them was to have a private interview with the lord.

Vivienne found out that her interview was last, so she had ample free time to spend in the courtyard. Luckily, she was still wearing her hooded cloak so no one would have recognized her even if they happened to walk by the courtyard.

"Is this seat taken?" a boy asked. Vivienne looked up, expecting one of her fellow inductees. But no, it was a boy, wearing a dress shirt and fancy pants. Around his neck was a blue silk necktie with a ridiculously elaborate knot. He was huffing and puffing, turning as red as a tomato. Vivienne shook her head. He immediately collapsed on the marble seat across from her.