Nightingale by Dawn Rae Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

can’t not show up. Everyone is expecting me. Annalise has made that clear.
    “You have a closet full of fabo dresses.” Kyra slides off my bed and crosses the room to the closet. “Seriously, you will never have to wear the same thing twice,” she says wistfully.
    “What do you suggest?” I ask, hanging my head over the side of the bed. My long, dark hair brushes the ground.
    “I think you should loan me about twenty or fifty of these.” She tosses a dress at me and the silk of an exquisitely beaded dress slips between my fingers. It puddles to the ground amongst the dozens of shoes scattered about. Before the gossip feeds distracted her, Kyra was admiring my new show collection. Which means she was slipping her feet into the shoes before discarding them by kicking them off. It’s a mess.
    Kyra stoops, and for a second, I think she’s going to clean up, but instead, she plucks the beaded gown off the ground and examines it. “So fabo . I’m dying.”
    “You can have it. I have more than I need.”
    Her face falls and she hands the dress to me. “I can’t. It’s against protocol.”
    I flip over onto my stomach and push up onto my elbows. “Screw protocol. What’s the fun of being a witch if you can’t break the rules?”
    Kyra’s mouth drops open.
    “What?” I ask.
    “Where’s Lark and what have you done with her?”
    For the first time in hours, the cloud of misery hanging over me lifts and I grin at my best friend. “Kyra, love,” I say imitating Mother’s way of speaking. “Don’t you want to have fun? Besides, when have you been interested in doing what you’re supposed to?”
    Her eyebrows shoot up. “You sound like me. And I’m not sure that’s a good thing. ”
    I hand the dress back to Kyra. “Try it on,” I order even though we both know it will fit her perfectly. That’s the benefit of smart material: everything fits everyone.
    Without any extra encouragement, Kyra slips the dress over her head and as expected, it falls softly over her hips.
    “How do I look?” She lifts her curls off her neck with one hand and turns left, then right. The flared bottom swishes around her bare feet.
    “Gorgeous,” I say. It’s true. Kyra looks like a painting with her dark hair, peaches-and-cream skin, warm brown eyes. “Maz won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
    She stops posing. “Really?”
    “Absolutely.”
    With a little jump, Kyra claps her hands excitedly. “Wait here. I think I have the perfect shoes.”
    “None of these work?” I point to the mess on the floor.
    She leaps over the piles of shoes and says, “No,” before disappearing.
    Outside my bedroom door, the house bustles with activity. But in here, the only sound is the beating of my heart and the shallow draw of my breath.
    I train my eyes on the ceiling. Beck and I used to lie like this, his arm cradling my head. Back when my life was on a perfect trajectory. I’d finish school, get the placement of my dreams, and be bound to Beck. I’d have a quiet life somewhere away from the pomp of State and the ever-present cameras.
    Now, I’m facing a lifetime of service here in San Francisco. Far away from the Ag Center.
    My eyelids droop and I don’t fight it. Kyra will wake me when she returns.
    Before I drift off, I try again to reach Beck mentally. Since Mother removed my restraint, I’ve been dying to see if it not only blocked my magic, but also interfered with whatever it is that allows Beck and me to communicate.
    Beck , I call out. Can you hear me?
    I keep my eyes shut and concentrate. Static fills my ears like hundreds of angry bees. It grows louder and I cup my hands over them. Why can’t I hear him? If he’s okay—as I suspect—and my magic is no longer locked up, shouldn’t everything be like it was before?
    A cool hand touches me and my eyes flutter open. Annalise stands over the bed, her face clouded with concern. “Is everything all right? You look pale.” She lifts my arm. “And you’re