Chosen by the Royals

EVERLY

When I come to in my cell, I hear a gentle voice speaking to me through the bars.

“Are you okay?”

It’s Lydia.

My mouth feels dry, my tongue sticking to the edges of my lips. My ears are ringing, my head pounding with a headache. I’d never drank, but I imagine this is what a hangover feels like.

I moan, “I’m so thirsty.”

“Here,” she says, before scooting a small metal tumbler half-full of water through the bars that separate my cell from hers. “Have my ration.”

The water is cool and life-giving as it glides down my throat.

Once I’ve finished the cup, I say, “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I remember what it was like when I came here. It’s a lot to take in.”

I ask her so many questions, and she answers them.

First, who, and what are Royals? She doesn’t make me feel naive or stupid for what I don’t know. Because, as it turns out, most people know as much as I do about Royals. Which is nothing.

“I’ve put the pieces together in the year since I’ve been here. Listening, watching.”

She tells me everything she knows.

Royals belong to a network of families of royal blood going back centuries. An ancient aristocracy of incredible wealth and power. They don’t see people like us—regular people, or commoners—as human. Over the years they’ve genetically bred themselves to be intelligent, attractive, and to possess special abilities. They have the athletic abilities of Olympians, able to run like the wind. They have almost-superhuman strength. Starting as young children, they train rigorously in all kinds of martial arts.

They’ve also developed technology and medicines far beyond what we commoners have access to.

They divide themselves into Houses. Some are family, but they are not all related by blood. They rule our world from the sidelines, through secret backchannels and political summits. Their wealth is staggering. And most of all, they do what they want.

The Midnight Mirage is one of many places where Royals come to blow off steam and indulge in their more base instincts. Sex, drugs, all forms of debauchery.

Laws don’t apply to them. Police and governments take bribes in order to turn a blind eye to their activities.

We stayed up all night talking. I just can’t process my new reality—that there is a whole world and culture existing in the shadows. And that there is no one who will come to save me.

Before I finally fall asleep, she says, “Stay strong. Stay vigilant. Do what they say, otherwise they will hurt you.”

I nod. My voice croaks as I begin to cry.

She cries with me in her cell. She reaches her hand through the bars to hold mine.

“Survive,” she says. “Just survive.”

***

When I wake in the morning, the cell beside mine is empty.

They sold Lydia.

At first, I didn’t believe it. I’d woken up on a thin straw mattress in the corner of a cage. There were a few other girls in the room in separate cages as well. I asked them if they’d seen Lydia, but they only shook their heads.

Mistress Dupont came to check in on us a bit afterwards. When I asked her about Lydia, she only had a few words for me.

“A buyer liked her. She’s gone. Forget about her.”

I cried for the rest of the night.

I remember being curled up in a ball on the rough straw, hating the fact that I was so powerless. Hating that Lydia was gone. Hating that this monster could just drug me. Take away my only friend. Steal my life from me.

Not that there was much to steal, but still…

Now I’m waiting for Mistress Dupont to come and take me away. All morning she’d been taking the girls out of their cages one by one and disappearing with them. The first girl screamed and yelled, trying her best to resist. She was beaten and dragged out.

None of the girls spoke up after that.

Now it’s just me, alone in this room of rusty cages. I wait so long that I think they forgot about me. Maybe it’s better this way. I would rather lie here on this dirty straw mattress forever than be a toy for Lord Lacroix.

Unfortunately, Mistress Dupont returns. She unlocks my cage and gestures for me to follow her. For a second, I think of resisting, but what’s the point? They’ll just drag me out anyway.

She leads me into another concrete room. I see a pair of women wearing waterproof coverings. They hold a dripping hose in between them.

“Strip,” Mistress Dupont commands.

“W-what?” I instinctively step away, turning from her.

“You’re filthy,” she says. “Now strip.”

I can tell by her expression that if I didn’t do it, my clothes would be torn off of me. I swallow and force myself to take off my clothes. I feel so exposed as I walk across the wet concrete, covering myself as much as I can.

The two women point the hose at me, and I’m blasted with freezing cold water. I can’t help but scream as the water slams into me. It hurts. I crawl up into a ball, but I’m yelled at to stay standing. They turn up the water pressure until I stand again.

They finally turn off the hose, and I’m left a shivering mess. The two women step forward to dry me off with towels. I hear them murmuring to themselves, and it takes me a moment to realize that they’re measuring me.

They twist and turn and bend me at different angles. I feel like a piece of meat being examined before it’s brought to the slaughter. The entire time Mistress Dupont stares at me, her cold eyes calculating my worth.

I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. Not even when I lived with Aunt Tessa.

Tears drip down my cheeks, but the women just silently wipe them away. They wrap a towel around me and push me after Mistress Dupont as she begins to walk towards a new room.

She leads me into some kind of dressing room. There are rows of vanity mirrors and closets bursting with clothes. The Mistress sits me down before a mirror and begins to towel my hair dry. After how cruelly they treated us, I expected her to be rough with me, but she’s surprisingly gentle.

Her touch is delicate, like she’s playing with a favorite doll.

“Wait here,” she tells me. “I will find you something to wear.”

I think about making a run for it, but decide against it. I won’t get very far naked, alone, and with no idea where I am.

Instead, I look at myself in the mirror. I can hardly recognize the girl staring back at me.

My skin is blemished with bruises, purple and blue fading into an ugly yellow. My hair falls in a tangled mess around my shoulders. I look pale and sick. But most shocking are my eyes.

Ringed with dark, heavy bags, they look hollow.

Empty.

Like I’m looking at a shell of a stranger instead of myself.

Maybe this is all a bad dream? That would make more sense. There’s no way a world could exist where my own aunt would sell me a maniacal junkie, right? What could he want with me?

Mistress Dupont returns, but I barely register what she’s doing to me. I go numb. I feel her put clothes on me. I sense a makeup brush gliding over my skin.

None of this matters, anyway. It’s just a bad dream. Soon I’ll wake up to Aunt Tessa yelling at me to make her breakfast.

I smile. It’s weird, but that feels like home…

“What a pretty doll you make.” Mistress Dupont’s voice pulls me back from my fantasy. “Lord Lacroix will be pleased.”

I focus, and I’m standing before a woman I’ve never seen before.

She’s wearing skimpy lingerie woven from silk and lace. The bra pushes her bust together, and the fabric just drips off of her curves. Her skin is smooth and flawless, her hair cascades effortlessly down to the small of her back.

And her eyes…

Bold and bright, they exude confidence.

This woman is a seductress. She oozes sex appeal.

I watch Mistress Dupont walk up behind her and place her hands on her shoulders. I flinch when I feel the Mistress’s hands on my shoulders instead.

“You look absolutely delicious,” she says into my ear.

It’s only then that I realize I’m looking into a mirror. At me.

“What did you do to me?” I whisper.

“I gave you a new life.” Her hands trail down from my shoulders to my curves, her touch leaving a trail of goosebumps along my skin. “Forget whoever you were before this. The faster you do, the easier it will be.”

Mistress Dupont wraps an arm around my waist as she presses herself up against my back. Her other hand trails up my neck over my jaw until her thumb brushes against my lips. Her perfume makes me dizzy, and I lean back into her.

I watch through the mirror as she smiles and looks at my lipstick on her thumb. A bright, succulent red.

“Your name is Velvet Vixen,” she whispers. “And you will be the jewel of the Midnight Mirage.”

***

“I won’t tell him,” he assures me. “I promise.”

I gaze into his eyes, trying to detect the lie in them. He seems earnest enough. But can I really trust him?

“I did some digging and found the files Lord Lacroix has on you. Sold to him by your own aunt…” Phillipe shakes his head. “This must be so hard on you. I’m so sorry.”

His words break something inside me. All of the careful walls I’d built to protect myself come crashing down. All of the pent-up stress, fear, and anxiety come rushing out of me in a strangled sob.

Suddenly I’m crying into his shoulder and his arms are around me. I can feel him rubbing soothing circles into my back. I don’t know how long I cry for. No one checks in on us. As far as they’re concerned, this is just all part of the client’s request.

“S-sorry.” I slide away from him and try to wipe away my tears.

“No need to apologize,” he hands me a handkerchief. “Have you thought about running away?”

“I can’t.” I laugh, but it’s a sad, bitter sound. “They’ll beat me if I try anything…” I shrug. What can I do?

“What would you do?” he asks. He’s suddenly more serious. “If you escape, I mean.”

I try to reply, but realize I have never even thought that far ahead. I’ve been trying to come up with ways to escape, but never thought about what I would do if I actually got away.

Where can I go? Aunt Tessa sold me. She’d just drag me back here. I don’t have any friends or family.

“I…I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “But I’d rather take my chances out there than stay here.”

“Would you go to the media?” he asks. “Would you try to tell the world about us?”

“Who would believe me?” I ask. My shoulders sag, and I think about all the girls that have been sold, never to be seen again. “A homeless girl rambling about a secret society of ancient royalty who control the world. I’d just get thrown in the loony bin.”

Philippe stares at me for a while longer. The silence stretches on, and I can tell he’s thinking deeply about something.

“I can get you out of here,” he says quietly.

I ruthlessly squish the hope that wants to build up in my chest. “Why are you helping me?”

“I don’t like the way Lacroix runs things. I’ve been looking for an excuse to do something about it. Here you are.” He smiles at me and stands, extending his hand.

I hesitate. Is this one of Lord Lacroix’s tricks?

“I don’t work for him,” Philippe tells me. “And he’ll never find you again. I promise.”

I take his hand before I can overthink it. He helps me up and ushers me towards the velvet curtains.

“We won’t have much time,” he explains. “Just stay close to me.”

I nod, my heart in my throat. This is happening. I’m really getting out of here!

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I nearly have a heart attack. On the other side of the curtain, waiting for us, is Lord Lacroix.

Philippe continues to walk, acting casual. “Step aside, Lacroix, I’ve paid a lot for my time with Velvet Vixen. We’re just going to a different room—”

Lord Lacroix moves so fast it looks like a blur. Philippe cries out in pain as something wet and warm splashes onto my face. Philippe crumples to the ground, writhing in agony. I see blood gushing from his gut. The handle of a knife is sticking out of his stomach.

I look on in horror as Philippe squirms. He throws one last, desperate look at me before his eyes go blank.

Dead.

Lord Lacroix grabs my hair and pulls me closer to his face.

“I see everything you do, girl. That injection I gave you? A tiny chip that records what you see. The best technology there is. Got it from the Russians. Do you get it, yet?” I cry out as he pulls my hair back, exposing my neck. Tears sting my eyes. “It means you can never escape. When I want to, I can see what you see. I can find you wherever you run to.”

Lacroix kicks Philippe’s body as guards come to drag it away.

He shoves me to the ground, and I crash painfully into the pool of Philippe’s blood.

“He’s dead because of you. This is your fault. Remember that.”

The shock is too much. I feel myself go numb. What little hope I have in my heart truly curls up and dies. I have nothing left inside of me.

Lord Lacroix looks me up and down, making sure he drives his point home.

He did. He wins.

“Clean yourself up, Velvet Vixen.” He turns to walk away. “Your next show is in ten minutes.”