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Several key members of the Division came through the west door then, and the over-large room suddenly felt too full. Brendan took a moment to quickly present each of them to Emily, making a point not to allow them enough time in between introductions for more than a brief greeting.
The rest of the party filtered in and were fleetingly acknowledged before Brendan said, “Shall we?” and the group dispersed to find their seats. The head of the long table was left open for Brendan, who pulled out the chair to his left for Brianna. Emily watched the gesture with unveiled disapproval, and then ignored the chair that one of the staffers drew out for her to sit on Brianna’s other side.
I was distracted from the scene by a light touch on my forearm, Ellin indicating the chair opposite Brendan as mine. I might have chosen otherwise, but after a small shuffle to reorder the arrangement Emily had wrecked, it was the last open seat.
Three low centerpieces were flanked by a myriad of fresh-baked rolls, each woven into intricate braids or bearing the shape of some sort of flower. When drinks were poured, tentative conversations started around the table, talk of pleasant weather and the new wing on one of the downtown buildings. We were served soups and salads that bore little resemblance to either, and I wondered if they realized this neither honored nor impressed their “prophecy girl.” When the salad was removed and a plate of some small not-quite-beige thing that could only be fish was set in front of me, I glanced at the other end of the table.
Brendan, uncharacteristically casual with his shirt sleeves still rolled halfway up his forearms, alternated between small talk and an insincere smile, and surreptitious glances at the girl beside him. Emily picked at what appeared to be leaves and berries sprouting from her entrée, and then sat her fork gently on the side of her plate.
By the time dinner was cleared, conversation had picked up and the guests were getting braver with their topic choices.
“We never imaged you had a sister, Brianna. So unexpected,” Kara was saying from the center of the table opposite them. She was the only woman of the Division’s eight, and the first to leave Council to join Brendan. I didn’t trust her at all.
Brianna made polite small talk, but I was fairly certain she felt the same way.
It had indeed been a surprise to all of us that the heart of the prophecy not only had a sister, but a twin. What was more surprising, however, was that none of their records reflected that detail. There were several theories, the most popular being that the girls’ mother had orchestrated the cover-up from the beginning. Knowing what I knew now, I had no doubt.
Talk turned to the troubles of late, barely skirting the chief taboo of the evening: Morgan. Bringing up the name of the man the guest of honor was hiding from would not only be ill-mannered, it would lead to the questions the Division was trying to keep from answering directly. So far, they’d managed to inform Brianna of Morgan’s desire for her, his power to sway, and the danger to the rest of us. What they’d been afraid to disclose, however, was the prophecy, and how central she was to their plan.
While Eric and Seth discussed the messes being made by Council, the commonbloods who were being used and then left without cover stories or explanations of any kind, I considered again what Emily’s life must have been like, knowing her sister was the chosen and being held responsible for her safekeeping.
A small white plate of custard drizzled with chocolate and caramel pulled me from my thoughts and I glanced down the table at Emily, who finally looked like she’d found something she could eat. She lifted the tiny dessert fork, but stopped short at the turn of conversation.
“Four of them, beaten near death and dumped roadside with no explanation,” Seth complained.
She stared across the table at him, her hand dropping slowly to return the utensil.
Eric sat beside Seth, joining in, “We’re spending our resources on cleaning up after them. They aren’t even adhering to the oldest codes. If we miss something, it will be on the news. The commonbloods…”
Emily’s hands went into her lap as they continued. She looked a bit sick.
“… like we have the time and resources to waste on their used commonbloods—”
It was about the sixth time in so many minutes they’d used the label, and Seth’s words were cut short as Emily, who was suddenly standing, slammed her fist on the table. “They aren’tcommonbloods, they’re people,” she said. “Dead. People.”
The room fell still. Emily’s stare was focused directly on Eric and Seth, so she was unaware that the rest of us could only watch her, could only look on in shock as Brianna’s quiet sister transformed from a pretty young blonde into a barely restrained fury. Her eyes were hard, expression not just livid, but outraged, and she was suddenly older. It was as if she’d seen more than any of us in her years, and yet remained shocked at our manners.
Seth had the decency to look shamed at having offended a guest, and Eric inclined his head slightly in apology. The silence became awkward, heavier and heavier, and, eventually, Emily returned to her seat.
But dinner just wasn’t the same after that.
