Page 9 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

Several more cameras flashed.

“A creature of the night,” was another remark.

“Beautiful.”

The comments swirled around Brynleigh as she flapped her wings. She rose in the air, remaining within the black arch, enjoying how the wind caressed her like a lover.

Someone else noted, “This one will be a favorite.”

Brynleigh didn’t hide her expanding grin as she flew towards the guarded entrance of the Hall of Choice, bypassing the steps entirely. She wasn’t here for fame, fortune, or any other perks.

She was here for revenge, and finally, it would be hers.

CHAPTER 3

May the Gods Bless Your Choice

Brynleigh landed on the top steps, waved at the press, and grinned as she retracted her wings. She kept a strand of shadows wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet as a reminder of her power.

“Good evening, Miss de la Point.” A guard dipped his head. “Right this way, please. The women are gathering in the Crimson Lounge.”

Brynleigh handed her invitation and clutch to the man. Looking over her shoulder, she waved at the cameras one last time. Thanking the guard, she smiled demurely. She would be kind, but not too kind. Happy to be here, but not exuberant. Present, but not overly talkative. There were many things Brynleigh had to remember. Her plan hinged on walking a fine line of truth and lies, falseness mixed with the barest amount of reality.

The guard entered the Hall of Choice, and Brynleigh followed behind. Keeping her head down, she discreetly took in her surroundings. Several flashing red lights blinked at her from within vases and above doors, hiding cameras that were probably displaying her procession through the hall to the members of the Republic.

In preparation for this moment, Brynleigh had spent hours studying the blueprints for the Hall of Choice. The building was practically palatial, and not only did it house the participants of the Choosing, but it boasted an expansive ballroom, several staterooms, two prodigious libraries, and an industrial kitchen equipped to feed everyone needed to keep the building running. The residential area of the Hall of Choice was mirrored, with one section for men and another for women.

Hushed whispers filtered beneath closed doors as the guard led Brynleigh towards the Crimson Lounge. Most people wouldn’t be able to make out their words, but the moon goddess had blessed vampires with the best hearing of everyone in the Republic. Even dragon shifters, with their extensive senses, couldn’t hear as well as children of the night.

Tuning out the clicking of her heels on the marble tile, Brynleigh picked up snippets of conversations.

“My mother loves the Choosing…”

“… Another riot last night in the Eastern Region…”

“There are several elves…”

“… did you see…”

“He’s so handsome…”

“… unrest in the Southern…”

Brynleigh’s ears perked up at the final comment. News of riots and general unrest wasn’t exactly new to her. One would have to be blind not to notice the inequality between the upper and lower classes in the Republic of Balance. Sure, the government said they were all for “equality,” but it was all talk. Their actions showed how much they didn’t value the lower classes.

In the real world—the one veiled behind a golden sheen—the Representatives and their families were the elite, and the rest of the population was considered less than. The upper class hid behind their rank and used the power of their names as shields from the laws that governed the rest of the continent.

Captain Ryker Waterborn was the perfect fucking example. If he hadn’t hidden behind his mother’s title, he would’ve been arrested and tried for the numerous deaths he’d caused.

But that never happened.

Brynleigh’s family and their entire human village died, and no one paid the price for their lives.

One day, they were living happily. The next, they were gone. Dead, as if they’d never existed.

Brynleigh was finally taking matters into her own hands. For once, the archaic laws of the Republic were working in her favor. Captain Waterborn was duty-bound to participate in the Choosing, and sometime tonight, he’d be walking into the same building. He could hide from many things and become a recluse; he could wipe any trace of himself away, but even he had to obey the laws requiring the offspring of Representatives to join the Choosing.

“Here we are.” The guard stopped in front of a golden door. He bowed. “Good luck, and may the gods bless your Choice.”

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