Ender’s hand lifts. He brushes the loose tendrils from my cheek and holds them there, fingers lingering as he studies my face for several long seconds.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He couldn’t know. No one could tell us apart. Not by our appearance, at least.
“Haven,” he repeats softly.
“Did you hit your head?” I ask. “Why do you keep repeating my name?”
He straightens, fixing the lapels of his suit.
“No reason,” he says. “Let us go celebrate our engagement.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
I expect him to reach for my arm like before, but he surprises me when he slides his hand around my waist, drawing me closer to him. I can smell his scent of mint and fresh air combined with his spicy cologne.
Tamsin turned the heart of Ender’s house into a great hall. The chandelier twinkles, casting its prismatic light across the room. Glass vases hold bouquets of primroses and orchids. The dark oak floors shine like frozen water. Laughter rises and falls, following the tune of the orchestra. Women dressed in chiffon and satins drift along the floor, while men in polished suits and starched white undershirts hang onto their every word.
Cameras flash as eager reporters attempt to capture the upper-class socializing at the most important event of the year. They are crowding around someone who just entered through the double doors, and they miss us when we slip inside.
I step a little closer to Ender, slightly daunted by the strange faces. Unlike Mercy, I never attended dinner parties like this. I feel completely out of place.
“Nervous?” Ender asks.
I open my mouth to deny it, before I realize I am Mercy. It won’t feel like a weakness to confess the truth to him. He isn’t my commanding officer right now.
“A little,” I admit.
“I can do all the socializing,” Ender offers. “You can smile and nod as needed.”
His offer shocks me. He’s being surprisingly amiable. I wonder if he is like this with my sister. Maybe he’s only a giant, overbearing ass around me.
“You can socialize?” I ask.
“I can pretend,” he corrects. “I can lie.”
“A perfect politician,” I say with a tight smile. “Your father must be proud.”
Ender stiffens, and his steps falter. Similar to his reaction in the car, he doesn’t take well to being compared to his father. I only saw Ender a few times on the public screens standing by the Supreme Director. The first was the day his father reversed the ruling that protected the Children of Treason. It sickens me that the Supreme Director stood there and confirmed that they would be killing young kids.
It is worse that the people did not riot, that they clapped and smiled, their faces powdered and their hair groomed to perfection. The citizens who dwelled closest to the capital had nothing to fear; they did not care about the rebels or the impoverished. They lived in glass cages and grew fat on the labor of the Commons. And now they were here, sipping their wine, carrying their gold-painted lighters to slip out to the balcony for smoking breaks.
“Let’s just get this night over with,” Ender says rigidly.
And then he leads me into the den of wolves.
chapter
twenty-nine
Ender
Ican’t stop looking at her.
We’re standing in a crowded room full of politicians, high-level military officials, and the wealthiest people in New Foundry. But my gaze is locked on Haven’s, not Mercy’s, but Haven. They’re doing it again. One of their silly little schemes. The moment she tripped, and I caught her, I noticed those familiar birthmarks on her back. The ones I saw that day in the locker room. It’s uncanny how identical they look. When I entered Mercy’s bedroom, my gaze initially locked on who I thought was Haven.
But I was wrong, so terribly wrong.
