Let them bloom sincerely pt2

I'd never imagined I'd be among the cream of society, escorted by the paparazzi who surrounded the red carpet. Grant smiled faintly, a charming smile on his face, and I gripped his hand, trying not to fall, because walking down a catwalk in high heels wasn't on any column of my CV.

As I learned from the journalists, Grant and I had been together for a long time, and today was the first time we had decided to reveal our romance to the world. I gritted my teeth, thinking of the president who'd caused all this fuss. But there was nothing we could do, we couldn't leave each other's side because of my special collar, so the only way to avoid questions was to pretend to be a couple in love.

Circul Junior didn't look surprised, it seemed that the long years of living next to his father had prepared him for every twist and turn of fate, while I struggled to contain my hysterical laughter as questions about our relationship were thrown at my poor psyche.

“Tell me, what do you know about each other?” one of the reporters just stunned me with his question.

“How long have you hidden the fact that you're dating?” the woman in the thick black glasses shouted over the assembled group of journalists.

“His favourite colour?” they put a microphone to my mouth.

“Pink,” I said seriously, looking straight into the camera.

For a moment our section of the red carpet fell silent as everyone looked at the unflappable Grant, who was simply irresistible today in his black bow tie and dark patent shoes. Shock. One middle-aged lady clutched her heart. Why were they all so impressionable?

“Not too pink, more like coral. Just like my bag,” I hastened to add as a calm one gave me a very painful but subtle pinch on the side of my arm.

“Did he give it to you?”

“Yes,” I smiled sourly. I remembered how this bag had been ‘given’ to me.

My new fictive boyfriend hastily ushered me into the building, away from my answers that could put shame on his head.

“We should have used the back door,” he exhaled quietly, holding out the invitation to the guard.

I pretended it had nothing to do with me and smiled as I entered a world of luxury, expensive outfits, flashy gestures and delicious cakes at the buffet.

The official part didn't last too long, a few people asked for donations for the endangered beaver species in the local forests, then the musicians came out and the evening took on a more relaxed atmosphere.

We stood by the columns near the balcony and occasionally people came up to us, greeted Grant and nodded at me, asking where Rizor Circul was, to which the young man shrugged his shoulders and smiled charmingly, skilfully avoiding answering. We didn't know ourselves why the president was late.

A few girls rustled their skirts as they walked past. They stopped not far from us, sipping champagne from flutes.

I wouldn't have noticed them if it hadn't been for the half-loud phrases thrown my way. “How can he be going out with her?” “Did you see her dress? What dumpster did she find it in?” “No, the dress is from Murini's latest collection, it's worth...” “Still, she's not his equal. What's his father looking at? I hope it won't come to marriage. Only the elite can marry the elite, and this one is a commoner...”

I grimaced. Although I wasn't happy about our ‘suddenly romantic’ relationship with Grant, it was still unseemly to openly discuss our inequality. Even for me.

“This one's a cabbage,” Circul turned to me and whispered in my ear. His palm pointed at the last girl to speak.

“What are you trying to say?”

“She looks like a cabbage. Ten coats and three sweaters underneath. And this one looks like a carrot,” the guy grinned as he took a cocktail from the waiter's tray. “Flabby skin, stretched figure and a ponytail.”

“It's not nice to talk about people like that.”

“Tell them that,” he handed me a glass. “Do you want one?”

“Thank you,” I thanked him for more than just the drink. My mood had lifted.

For the rest of the boring party, Grant and I played a game of ‘ask the most ridiculous or unexpected question’. We had never been interested in each other's pasts before, but now we were asking about everything.

Circul Junior kept asking me how old I was, or what my real name was, or what I used to do in the past, while I kept tormenting him with questions about studying at the closed military academy, and why he went to the Kingdom of Rit to get an education instead of staying in our glorious and great Unica.

But we did shed some light on a few questions. For example, what were our favourite childhood cartoon characters, who did we dream of being when we were little, what books and films did we not like, what games did we play before Virtul.

Sometimes Grant could be really charming.

“May I have a word with you?” the secretary Mirk bowed slightly to my companion.

The guy looked at me, let go of my hand and stepped aside with Anaris. They talked seriously, Grant frowning a few times. I was actually worried, afraid that something might have happened to the president. It would be terrible if he died before I got to him.

Although I still had no idea how I was going to kill him...

I exhaled, chasing the thoughts away. My eyes wandered to the buffet table. I glanced back at Circul Junior, roughly calculating the distance, and lightheartedly picked up the snacks.

My mood was always easy to manipulate, the smell of food on the horizon brought a smile to my lips. I sipped champagne and happily took a bite of truffle cake.

“Is this your first time here? I've never seen you before,” said a small young man of about my age. The collar of his white tails was embroidered with jewels.

“Yes, you're right,” I only glanced in his direction once, busy picking out another treat.

“You have a very nice collar, Siri... twenty-two. Too bad the magic inside isn't as beautiful.”

I froze, my hand hovering over the blueberry cream cakes.

“How do you know that?”

“But there is also something beautiful in death...” he said as if he hadn't heard me.

“Who are you? How do you know...”

“Siri!” Grant grabbed my elbow and spun me around. He was angry, his black eyes ready to burn away what little pride I had left. “Never, never do that again! Never leave me,” Circul blurted, dragging me towards the exit.

I turned my head to look for my last interlocutor, but he had disappeared into the crowd. It was only in the couloir that a light breeze announced his presence.

“My name is Non. Remember that name, Siri,” the man whispered as he passed.

I only had time to look round to see his back and his long white hair, carelessly braided.

“I almost went mad when I saw you leave,” Grant scolded me. “You couldn't stand still for a minute?”

“I just went to the snack table.”

“Even two steps away from where you were standing, you should have warned me!” It was the first time he had ever raised his voice to me so sharply.

I tightened my clutch and tried to hold back the tears. The whole injustice of the situation made me want to cry, to feel pity for myself and to cradle my soul, wounded by the unfair accusations. But I exhaled quietly, humbling my pride: “I'm sorry.”

I was so tired from the short day that I decided not to argue, to save my nerve cells. We waited in silence for the car.

Circul seemed to calm down after my apology; he leaned back relaxed, rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and ruffled his hair.

“Today was the pre-election. According to the polls, my father didn't get enough votes,” he said, looking out of the window.

I glanced at the young man, not knowing what to say. Should I be happy? Comfort him? Laugh or cry? The more time passed, the more my heart became entangled in its own intricacies about the Circul family and the bomb situation itself.

And sometimes I forgot about Virtul, sometimes I forgot why I hated Grant's family and my life. It didn't scare me yet, but it made me think. The closer I got to the seventeenth of July, the day the contract expired, the more doubts crept into my soul.