Page 8 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

When Brynleigh was a child, she’d learned about the formation of the Republic of Balance. They’d spent a year learning about the Unification of the Four Kingdoms. Many centuries after the Battle of Balance, the Founders of the Republic had dreamed of a country where everyone was equal and lived beneath a single banner.

It was all a fucking joke.

The limo turned a corner and passed a white marble government building. Two statues of the same material stood outside the building, facing each other. The ancient elves were the High Ladies, once responsible for resetting the balance. One was covered in green whorls and swirls, while the other’s tattoos were red. Everyone in the Republic knew of these two and the lengths they and their mates had gone to restore the balance long ago.

The Republic’s flag flapped above their heads, illuminated by solar lights. The white banner, nearly as large as a car, had four roses encircling a scale.

Brynleigh scowled. The citizens of the Republic of Balance lived under one government, but the equality the Founders had desired was nowhere to be seen.

The Representatives and their families held a disproportionate amount of wealth and power. They were the government, the law, the army. They were in charge, and those who had the misfortune of being born outside their glorious ranks—which happened to be the majority of the Republic’s citizens—suffered greatly.

Brynleigh’s fingers curled around her gilded invitation, and anger coursed through her veins.

She wouldn’t let the emotion rule her, though. Grabbing that anger, she bottled it up and shoved it deep inside.

The limo slowed as it turned another corner, and the driver lowered the barrier between them.

His hazel eyes met hers through the mirror. “We’re fourth in line, Miss de la Point,” he said, his gravelly voice breaking Brynleigh from her thoughts.

“Understood.” Unfurling her fingers, she smoothed out the invitation.

“It shouldn’t be long now. I’ll let you prepare.” He rolled the divider back up.

Brynleigh ran her tongue over the tip of her fangs, letting the slight prick of pain ground her.

She was about to enter the Choosing. A flurry of excitement spun in her stomach despite her best efforts to remain cool-headed about the entire affair. It was fair, she reasoned, to be a little excited because this was the biggest event of the decade. Each participant would arrive at the Hall of Choice in a limo. Once they exited their vehicles, they would walk through an arch of shadows designed to hide them from view from the other participants. This was a blind love competition, after all.

Efforts would be made to keep the men and women separate before the official Unmasking on the night of the proposals. The Masked Ball was one of the most important moments during the Choosing when the participants finally saw their Chosen partners face to face for the first time.

That didn’t mean they’d be invisible until then, however. Press events were a very real part of the Choosing. After all, the Representatives wanted to ensure their offspring had time in the limelight.

Even though the Republic prided itself on the technological advancements that had occurred ever since the fae migrated across the Indigo Ocean, the Choosing itself was an antiquated process. It was a relic of times past, a remnant of efforts aimed at ensuring that everyone felt unified. Watching people fall in love was supposed to help the Republic connect and find common ground. That was no longer the case. Now, the upper class used the Choosing as another way to hold their superiority over the rest of the world.

As much as Brynleigh was disgusted by the show of wealth in Golden City, she had no choice but to play along with it. She needed to get close to Ryker. This was her only chance. She’d searched for the fae all over, but finding him had been impossible after he’d gone underground six years ago. She’d never even seen a picture of him. Someone had gone to great lengths to wipe all evidence of the captain from any publicly available sources of information.

The limo moved closer, and the thick, black fog fell over the windows. Even Brynleigh’s vampiric eyes couldn’t see through the opaque mist. If she were mortal, she would’ve been afraid. She’d never much enjoyed the dark when she was human. But she was no longer mortal, and that kind of thing no longer bothered her.

She’d been reborn into a creature of the night, and the darkness was her home. Her safe place. It called to her.

She straightened her dress and smoothed out wrinkles. She kept her wings on display, wanting to show the press precisely who she was.

It wasn’t long before the engine turned off. Hundreds of heartbeats were the melodic backdrop to the city’s symphony. Most were the rapid, steady heartbeats of humans and elves, but a few other slow, rhythmic thrums told her other vampires were nearby.

The driver walked around and opened Brynleigh’s door. Darkness rose above them, an arch of swirling night. Inside the shadows were dozens of people with cameras waiting to catch a glimpse of her.

She inched towards the open door, careful not to snag her dress. The moment Brynleigh’s heeled foot touched the pavement, cameras flashed. The press’ lights lit up the night like bursts of lightning in a spring storm. In one hand, Brynleigh held her clutch. In the other, she gripped her invitation. Her shoulders were back, and a pristine smile graced her face.

An elaborate, long, scarlet carpet led up the massive steps of the Hall of Choice. The path they wanted her to take was obvious, but Brynleigh wasn’t an obvious vampire.

She took a few steps down the red carpet, smiled, and waved.

If they wanted a show, she’d give them one. Fanning out her wings, Brynleigh allowed them to stretch to their full length. They were heavy, capable of supporting her weight, and her favorite part of being a vampire.

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd, assuring her she had everyone’s attention.

Only then, once she was certain they were watching, did she release her shadows. The dark wisps pooled at her feet, eager to do her bidding.

“A doubly blessed vampire,” one of the reporters murmured.

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