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“Está increíble,” I whispered.
The driver laughed. “It is. I always love watching people see it for the first time.”
I smiled.
The car curved into the cul-de-sac, and slowed to a stop behind another shiny obsidian colored vehicle with equally dark windows. Whoever was inside was utterly and completely hidden away from the world. The driver was already rushing to the back left door, opening it just as a young man around my age stepped out. He tossed his head to the side, and my stomach twisted as his glossy light-brown hair fell to the side of his head and covered his bronze skin like a lush waterfall.
He wore a button-up shirt and pants with a clearly defined centerfold crease, and he nodded to his driver before walking up the pathway to the hotel. I watched him with a furrowed brow, wondering where the Médicos charged with inspecting new-comers were.
Then my recently healed thumb twitched—Élites were able to heal themselves. There was no fear for the Withering here, so why should they be poked and prodded everywhere they went? The car in front of us drove away, and we replaced them in line. I glanced down at the ruined section of my pants and frowned. I had no idea how I was going to fix that glaring imperfection. There was no tape, no purse, nor thread to help me hide that spot.
Perhaps I could keep people from looking at it by sheer confidence.
“Se llama Renata Valarde.”
My head snapped to the side to see Giancarlo speaking to the same Trabajador who had helped the boy from the car in front of me. My knight in a shining limo leaned in toward the valet. “She’s come for the audition.”
The Trabajador nodded once and checked the papers inside of a leather case. “I don’t see her on the list,” he said in a nasally tone.
They were trying to be quiet, but I had exceptionally good hearing.
The driver shook his head briskly. “I wasn’t lying. Everyone will want to see this, Mateo.”
One of the side-mirrors reflected the two of them exchanging a look that I knew well. One that spoke words they thought the subject of their gossip wouldn’t understand. He leaned forward and said something else. All I could make out was the word“dorada.”
Golden.
Shit.
They had mentioned an audition, which meant…
The Blood Tournament.
I knew that was happening soon, but didn’t realize that I would coincide with any part of it. Was that why the driver had smirked?
My skin felt clammy while I listened to them, but I reminded myself to appear more confident than I felt.
I jutted my chin forward, but before I had time to cover my leg, the door on the side of the car opened.
“Señorita Valarde, bienvenida al Grand Hotel.” The hotel Trabajador bowed slowly and then straightened up to smile slowly. “I’m told you have come to audition. However, the careless people who made this list seemed to neglected putting your age here. May I see your card?” Mateo asked.
My blood ran cold in my veins, but I reached into my pocket and handed it over. “I think there’s been a mixup. I’m not supposed to—“
The Trabajador looked up and interrupted me with a wide smile on his face. “Are you here to see Señor Castillas?”
I paused. “Yes, but—“
He nodded excitedly. “Well then, call it what you’d like, but I am ready to take you down. Could you tell me your age?”
Damn this whole day. The way forward was a tightrope, so I conceded. “Eighteen,” I blurted.
Giancarlo smirked.
It was then I realized I should’ve lied because that was the age of the other competitors.
“Wait,” I said, but Mateo was already talking.
“Actually, there is another young woman who was supposed to come, but we received a call that she had already been selected by another mentor. They must’ve called you and forgotten to tell me.”
