The Glass Arrow(40)

I’m brought below the stage to where the Governess is already waiting. Her face is so red it glows beneath her thick layer of makeup. Her whole body is shaking with fury.

“You,” she hisses, pointing her long painted nail at my face. “I hope you like the Black Lanes, Clover, because that’s where you’re going.”

While the Watcher binds my hands she tears the fur cape off my shoulders and throws it into a makeshift pen for several sheep. She stretches and flexes her fingers, and for a second I think she means to choke me. Instead she draws back and adjusts the hair piled atop her head.

I swallow, though my throat now feels dry. My eyes narrow into challenging slits. Just try and hit me, I think. She shouts orders to her assistant, and he types something into his texter. A few minutes later, I’m brought back to the iron carriage, where I wait with the Watcher through the remainder of the show.

*

THE RIDE BACK THROUGH town is not nearly as nerve-wracking. In fact, I’m filled with cool, calm relief. I’ve done it. I’ve succeeded. There is no way that anyone is bidding on me after that performance. Maybe I’ll be sold to Mercer, but if I survived this, I can survive that.

The other girls in the carriage are somber. Now they’re the ones who are anxious. They’re wondering if they smiled enough. If they showed enough skin, or were mysterious enough to gain the crowd’s attention. One of the girls is crying because someone from another carriage ripped her dress in line. I wish some catty competitor had messed up my dress.

No matter. I’ve done a fine job by myself.

When I think of that little boy, I nearly smile. Mother Hawk sent him to me at just the right moment. He’s kept me clear of a buyer, at least for now. If Kiran comes to the solitary yard tonight—if he’s not too mad at me for messing up my escape—I’m going to tell him all about it.

We pass through the electric gates of the Garden and halt in front of the building. The buzz when the gates lock shut quickly kills my mood. I may have escaped purchase, but I am still a prisoner.

Inside, we are led back into the preparatory room, where we’re given uniform dresses to change into. These are exactly the same as our normal black slinky outfits, except they are pale pink. The Governess thinks that this softer look will add to our post-auction appeal, which is important because over the next several hours the buyers will begin rolling in to take a closer look at the merchandise.

A Pip scrubs my face clean and takes down my hair. I don’t like him touching me, but the smell of the jasmine shampoo he uses is so soothing I nearly fall asleep. I feel a little more like myself when my hair curls back up, though I don’t like this pink dress at all. In the woods, wearing something like this would attract every predator in sight. Which I suppose is the point.

When the Pip tries to apply my post-auction makeup, I threaten to punch him until he leaves me alone. He scurries away with a stream of indignant pips!

We’re given a meal pill and lined up in two rows in the foyer, both facing the theater. The girls who have not attended the auction today gather behind these two lines, all sad faces and crossed arms and pouty lips. Daphne is not amongst them. With all that’s happened, I’d forgotten she’s in solitary.

The Governess appears and she’s changed as well. She’s wearing a bright red dress that seems to be painted on. It strikes me how old she is. Mid forties, older than most women I’ve ever seen. She looks like a monster dressing up as a woman, rather than the usual opposite.

Her expression is unreadable due to her newly applied powders and polishes. She’s accompanied by her Pip assistant, clinging to her shadow like a frightened puppy. He’s got an electronic clipboard in his hands. That list, I know, holds the names of the girls who will now be entering the next stage of the game.

“All in all, a rather pathetic showing,” the Governess begins. “I expected more from most of you.” She does not even pretend to acknowledge those of us who disappointed her. “Regardless, I have here a list of girls who will proceed into negotiations. When you hear your name, please step forward so that you may be escorted into the entertainment parlor to meet with your caller. Remember that this, for many of you, is your last chance to shine. This. Is. Crucial,” she adds. “I can only do so much.”

There is a wave of nervous whispering.

“Many of you may be escorted into our private screening rooms following your personal introductions. I’ve said it enough that you should all know by now, but since you seem to be a bit thick, let me remind you: Certain acts performed within those walls will earn you a ticket to the Black Lanes.”

There is a hush over the girls. She’s referring to the purity rule of course. We’re supposed to tease, but not to let things go too far. If we don’t pass a medical inspection, the sale is broken, and we’ll be carved up like the rest of the Virulent.

I shudder, thinking about the Governess’s threat to mark me if I don’t get chosen. I’m not sure she can actually do this; there are laws against it as long as I’m still untouched. Still, it makes me a little queasy. I push these thoughts aside as she passes in front of me, forcing myself to stare blankly ahead.

“Any questions?” she asks. She’s not really asking, and everyone knows this, so no one raises their hand. “Very good. Read the names.”

Her timid Pip assistant steps forward, holding the electronic board out before him. I have nothing to fear. After what I pulled off today, no one will be making a bid on me.