Page 11 of Beg the Night (Mystics of Ashora #1)

ELEVEN

sinner

O h, this was golden. New Girl’s sister was here, indulging in food and wine with the rest of Director’s prized mystics.

Was this what she’d been hiding?

I wanted to think so, but based on the shock in her expression, I wasn’t so sure.

When she swayed on her feet, I begrudgingly kept her from falling. No use making a scene. She stood with her mouth agape and her brown eyes wider than I had ever seen. In another life, I might’ve felt bad for her. Might’ve even wanted to help her.

But not in this one.

“You two are sisters?”

The woman—New Girl’s sister—couldn’t have been more different. Her hair was done up elegantly, not a strand out of place. Nothing like the constant mess of her sister’s mane. She had a softer face. A softer smile. Softer everything. People like her instantly put me on guard. It was clear she hadn’t suffered in this life.

And those who hadn’t been truly damaged didn’t understand what it was like to get shit done for survival and survival alone.

Not that I trusted New Girl, either. She was a whole different type of disaster.

“They are,” Director answered for them. “And they have plenty to catch up on. Let’s leave them to it, shall we?”

I immediately sought out New Girl’s gaze. Her deep brown eyes flashed to mine, too. A silent plea. This shit wasn’t right.

But here, we were simply pawns, pets of the Ministry. Bound to obey their every order. So, like the good little pets we were, we listened.

Director looped her cold, boney arm through mine and pulled me from the sisters.

I fought the urge to look back. To strain to listen to what they were saying. If I did, that would mean I cared, and I certainly did not.

I cared about nothing. Especially not that girl.

“I couldn’t help but notice your small show of shadows, Three.” Her voice was polite, casual even, as we veered through the crowd and toward the other edge of the clearing.

“It was nothing.”

With a tsk, she shook her head in a way that made me want to rip it off. “You know the rules. No powers, for the sake of your sister.” She lifted her chin and zeroed in on something in the distance. I followed her gaze, instantly recognizing Mags. She looked ridiculous in that pink dress, laughing with her head tossed back and glowing as if we were really here to enjoy the party.

Of course I knew the rules. It would be impossible to scrape the insides of my mind free of the memory of those men putting their blades on Mags’s skin. Of her screams ripping through the dungeon until I thought my ears would bleed.

That was the aftermath of my first and only attempt at escaping. The Ministry did not make idle threats, not when it came to powers. Not when it came to keeping the mystics contained.

My chest tightened. She was my one weakness, the one fucking string Director could pull. I would give my life for Mags. There was nothing I wouldn’t do if it meant keeping her safe. And now that we were both here, now that Director could clearly see how willing I was to protect her, I was fucked.

“I’d be willing to overlook your breaking of the rules, of course.” She brushed a hand down my arm.

I swallowed a gag. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

Brow furrowed, she sighed. “So angry. So defensive. Your claimed may not like that, you know. Has she agreed to mate with you yet? You are aware that both parties must be willing, aren’t you?”

A surge of anger rushed through me. “I am very aware, yes.”

“And yet, it looks as if she’s not on board with your plan.”

“She’ll get on board.”

“Yes.” Director eyed me carefully.

Since the day her disgrace of a fucking army found Mags and me, I’d been dreaming up all the ways I might eventually kill her.

She underestimated Mags. Thought so little of her. Saw her as nothing.

But me? She looked at me like I was her ticket out of this fucking war.

I’d yet to figure out why. Surely she had dozens if not hundreds of threes fighting in the war. There were probably several here tonight, all waiting for orders from their beloved Director.

I hated her. I hated everything she stood for. She wasn’t a mystic herself, I’d never sensed even the tiniest amount of power coming from her morbid skin, yet she walked around here like she was the most powerful person in the world.

If it weren’t for Mags, she would be dead already.

But Director knew that.

“She will get on board. And if you fail at convincing her, I’ll have backup measures in place.”

My gut twisted painfully at the malice in her tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She smiled, possibly the ugliest sight I’d seen all day, and I lived in a shithole with way too many disgusting men. “You’ll find out soon.”

With a wink that sent a disgusted chill down my spine, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

I checked on Mags again, making sure she was still laughing and having the time of her life with whoever the fuck she was talking to, before searching for New Girl again.

She was still talking to her sister, her shoulders drawn back, her chin lifted—she had to be a good four inches shorter than the dark-haired woman she was glaring at—and her brown eyes were fierce. Dark. Angry.

Her sister’s posture was much more poised. She kept her anger mostly hidden behind a feigned smile. Though now that I’d seen a hint of it, it was easy to make out the flush of red on her pale cheeks and the spark of fury in her eyes. She was equally as angry at New Girl, even if she didn’t show it.

My interest was officially piqued.

I stood my ground at the edge of the party, though, waiting. Watching. New Girl didn’t strike me as the family type. She certainly didn’t strike me as the my sister is a mystic and is already working for the Ministry type.

Full of surprises, wasn’t she?

The music around us grew even louder, adding to my growing agitation. I’d always hated music. My father loved it. Mags, too. They would play it all hours of the day, singing along and laughing ridiculously.

But for me, music was never simply music. It came with memories. Vivid ones. Each song like a fucking time capsule.

Here, there was nothing I could do as the melody washed over me, washed over my senses.

“Attention!” Director announced loudly, yanking me from the painful memories and ceasing the horrid tunes. “Attention, everyone!” She stepped up onto a small, raised platform on the far side of the room. “I have a few things I’d like to say.”

The crowd fell silent.

I glanced one more time over to New Girl. Her sister grasped her arm harshly, fingers digging into the skin, but New Girl yanked away and stumbled backward.

Thankfully the people around them were all focused on Director and paying the squabble no mind.

I was half tempted to interfere. Half tempted to drag her sister aside and ask what the fuck her problem was.

But soon, she, too, was watching Director.

“Today,” she said, her voice ringing out clear and strong, “we were victorious.”

All over the clearing, people broke into applause.

“It wasn’t long ago that mystics were considered lesser in Ashora. They were once forced to hide. To suppress their talents. To lie about their true abilities.” She took a long, shaking breath. Were people really buying this shit? “But because of you, because of the hard work the Ministry army puts forth every single day, we are freeing those who live in fear. We are freeing those who have been put down by their own communities. The earthlies cannot control us anymore, not when we stand together in our power!”

The crowd roared.

I fought the urge to vomit.

“I can say with true pride and honor that every single mystic in attendance today will help save the rest of the gifted population from the fate that they were destined to succumb to!”

More applause echoed off the trees. This was all so, so wrong. This was the fate we all feared. Being forced to merge our powers under the claiming was what we should be fighting against. We should be rallying to stop the entity forcing us into slavery.

“Today,” she continued. “I present our new mystics with honor. These are the next fighters of our cause. The next soldiers in our army of freedom. With pride, they step into their true strength so that we may one day know peace. So that one day, we’ll no longer have to live in fear.”

Predictably, she had to pause for applause once again.

“Dance,” she insisted. “Indulge. Enjoy yourselves this evening. The mystics who have not yet claimed, please take the time to speak with our army.” She scanned the crowd pointedly. “I’m certain they’ll inspire you to become who you were truly born to be.”

More cheering. More clapping and stomping and hollering. Had these people all been fucking brainwashed? Had the Ministry figured out how to control the minds of the masses? Maybe the entire fucking army was being controlled by a few of the mystics, forced to obey their commands. Forced to fight for the Ministry. It was the only solution that made sense. There was no way in hell this many would willingly fight for the Ministry. Not when they had seen firsthand how mystics were treated under Director’s rule.

Still. They danced. They smiled. They seemed to be enjoying this pathetic excuse of a life they’d been given.

All the while the pit in my chest grew.

And grew.

And grew.