Until the Sun Falls from the Sky by Kristen Ashley, now you can read online.
Chapter One
The Selection
My dress was blood red.
This, I thought, was farcical. I mean blood red? Were they serious?
“Smile. Be nice. Respectful. Always respectful. Remember, you’re representing the Buchanans,” my mother at my side whispered urgently to me. Her eyes did not leave the length of the hall and her bearing was stiff as we walked side-by-side.
She was nervous and excited. Unbearably so.
It was driving me nuts.
I didn’t need her to say this to me. Since I’d received my invitation to The Selection she’d been coaxing me, coaching me and constantly reminding me that I was a Buchanan and what that meant.
Like I’d ever forget.
In fact, since I was told when I was thirteen what being a female Buchanan meant, I’d never forgotten. Not one word. They were burned on my brain.
I didn’t answer her, just stared down the long hall.
It was, as it would be, lush but spooky. A dark gray carpet runner flanked by polished dark wood floors. Matching gray walls with pristine white cornices and ceilings. Every six or seven feet a small, exquisite sconce dripping crystals was affixed to the wall, enough of them to light the way but not enough of them to take away the shadows. Much further apart along the walls there were doors, all of them closed. At one end was the elevator we rode down however many stories and at the other end was the door to where we were heading.
And in between it was a long walk.
Way too long in blood red satin shoes with a pencil thin heel and an ankle strap that was so dainty it threatened to break with every step I took.
“I think these shoes were a bad idea,” I grumbled under my breath to my mother.
“Leah…” she started in the warning mother tone I’d heard her use with me many a time over the years.
“No seriously, I fear a massive shoe incident. The Buchanans can’t have a massive shoe incident, not at something as important as A Selection. What would that do to our reputation?”
“Don’t worry about your shoes. Your shoes will be fine.”
“No, I don’t think they will. I think we should leave, find me another pair of shoes and come back,” I suggested.
“You don’t have another pair of shoes that would be appropriate.”
She was right about that. Who owned two pairs of sexy, seven hundred dollar, blood red evening shoes?
“Well then, maybe we’ll talk to the powers that be and say I couldn’t make it due to possible shoe failure and could I have another go at the next Selection.”
At my words, her head whipped to face me and she looked panicked. This freaked me out more than I was already freaked out at the very prospect of the evening’s festivities.
“You have to attend this Selection. For you, there is no other Selection,” she hissed, not angry. She was frantic.
So frantic that out of habit, even though I didn’t understand her anxiety, I found myself soothing her. “Okay, Mom. I’ll work these shoes. It’ll be all right.”
She took in a deep breath and turned again to face the hall. So did I.
That proved it. She’d been beside herself with glee and, strangely, nerves when I got my invitation. Not because everyone in my entire family thought I’d never get an invitation to A Selection (and I’d been hoping, since I found out who my family was and what they did, that they’d be right) but because I’d received one to this Selection.
Though she’d never explained.
“Mom, is there something…?”
I didn’t finish. We were five feet away from the door at the end of the hall. It opened, a man in evening dress stepped out and closed it behind him.