Page 41 of Spark of Madness

“I wasn’t sure you would…” I trail off, realizing I have no interest in making it known how much I doubt his words—how much I doubt every word…how much I doubt everything around me.

“If I tell you I’m going to do something, you can rest assured, I’m going to do it.”

I don’t respond.

We reach the staircase, and he leads me down. He’s careful, as if he assumes I’m wearing the ridiculous high-heeled shoes I found in the wardrobe, but I’m not. I’m wearing my black boots beneath the elegant gown.

I smile to myself, thinking of it as a small, though insignificant rebellion. Trivial, yes, but it has meaning all the same. It returns some sense of pride to my heart, pride I need to get through dinner with the Control.

The voices of men carry from the foyer as we descend, and I spot a few of them standing on the starburst pattern beneath the golden chandelier. Killian and Ryker glance in our direction, and I feel the weight of their appreciative glances—glances that would indicate their interest in using me in service. I know they won’t touch me outside of a full moon, but I don’t feel any safer. I don’t feel any less devalued and objectified.

We reach the bottom of the steps, and I see Theo enter the foyer, moving toward us from a dark hallway across the sunburst. His hands are tightly fisted at his sides and a furious, fearful look darkens his features. He spots me and stops abruptly, catching my eyes and holding for a beat. I see the movement of shadow from behind him—two forms shifting into view before emerging from the dark hall at his back.

Park steps into the meager light from the chandelier, the dim glow bronzing the shade of his tawny skin and making his black hair look even darker.

And then I see the ripple of black fabric as a servant steps forward, moving into the dim light beside Theo, who casts her a sideways glance.

“Mercy,” Park says with a smile and a tilted head, “it appears you’ll have a companion during the trials.”

Delle Carter stands beside Theo, her face awash with equal parts determination and outright fear. It takes me a few moments of deep confusion, fueled by my unwillingness to accept what’s standing right in front of me, to work out the scene.

Delle is here, and it can only mean one thing...

She’s volunteered to participate in the trials.

I open my mouth to speak, to protest, to scream at her, and beg to know why.Arlo’s arm unhooks from mine and lassos around my back instead, sensing my rising agitation. He opens his hand around my side to grip me, smashing the rope between my stomach and his palm in silent warning.

He bends and puts his lips to my ear. “Give me one reason, Mercy.”

A warning.

My heart is torn between fear for myself and fear for Delle.

What was shethinking?

What has she done?

She’s too young and naïve to make a decision like this, and I don’t understand how they can allow it. She’s sixteen years old. She spentonenight in service. They can’t really be thinking of allowing this.

I ignore Arlo’s warning, shake myself from his grip, and charge across the space to Delle. “What are you doing?” I ask her, then look at Theo standing at her side. “You can’t let her do this.”

Theo’s eyebrows stitch together over his brown eyes. “She has the right to make this choice.”

“She doesn’t understand the choice!” I shout.

I reach for Delle, placing my hands on her cheeks as she blinks at me through tearful eyes. “What were you thinking? What are you doing? Why? Delle,why?”

“I didn’t...I couldn’t...” she stammers. “After that service, I couldn’t bear the thought of doing it again. Never again.”

“This isn’t the answer; this isn’t a solution. Do you understand that no one has ever survived the trials?”

“I know.” She nods, her delicate hands landing on my wrists. “I know, but there’s a chance, right? There’s a chance I’ll pass, a chance I’ll survive, a chance for something better than service. I have to try, Mercy.”

A sob breaks free from her chest and she drops her hands, moving against me and wrapping her arms around my waist. I hug her tightly, wishing I could hug her tightly enough to take all the pain of this life away.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper. “You can survive a life of service. Some...some find joy from it, peace in doing God’s work.” I swallow hard because my words don’t feel right.

They’ve never felt right.

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