RULES OF THE DAMNED

7. CLASH OF THE PRETENDERS

YOU CANNOT PUT all thirteen bloodlines in the same place and expect peace. Natalie Villaciente, from the Third Bloodline, and Mira Cardenia, from the Sixth Bloodline, could attest to my claim. As the high-pitched voice of the master of ceremony resonated in every corner of the Capital, reminding us that the program would start ten minutes from now, the two were murdering each other through their gazes. The years I’d spend studying their lives, family backgrounds, dirty secrets, and even patterns of behaviors, aided me in determining what fueled this fire.

As much as their discreet fight amused me because others seemed oblivious to it, I shifted my attention. My eyes wandered around, trying to unravel every unnoticeable tension between the other bloodlines, and use it to my advantage later. As Silvester said, winning does not mean you need to always fight them. Winning means you can make them fight each other without them knowing.

The candidates, including me and my brothers, sat near the flagpole, a perfect spot to flaunt the successors of the Thirteen Bloodlines. Despite the obvious hierarchy, which everyone was trying to exert, the chairs were arranged in a way that did not encourage discrimination among the ranks. After all, we were all equal in the eyes of the Jurists. Whoever arrived at the venue first, they had the liberty of choosing their chair.

The seating arrangement alone gave me ideas about them. Those who crave the spotlight would kill just to have the front seat. My asshole brother, Ricin, was there. Those who sat at the center sought allies. I instructed Thallium to play that role. While those who want to reap weaknesses and advantages chose to stay at the back. I was one of them.

“The Opening Ceremony will start two minutes from now. Candidates, please take your seats.”

My perusal stopped when my eyes caught someone. The facade I’d been mastering since I came here faltered a bit when he met my gaze. Hostility replaced Sinister’s unguarded and bare expression as he walked closer to where I was. His green eyes gleamed with danger as he scrutinized me from head to toe. I held my head high and chastised myself for the moment of vulnerability he spurred on me. Behind him, his brother Devious was staring at me as if I would be his latest conquest. The Yllarion brothers were similar in their level of attractiveness, but they wielded it in different manners. While Devious looked like the resident playboy with his taunting smirk, Sinister acted like a walking statue—cold and unfeeling.

My face remained neutral when they stopped near me. Both the chairs on my left and right side were unoccupied. Sinister sat at the right without words. While Devious lingered for a moment in front of me before he occupied the other side.

“What a pleasure to sit next to the Lorison Princess.” He whistled.

“In case it’s not apparent, the feelings are not mutual.” I shrugged.

“Don’t you worry, princess. I can do something... really nice to change that.”

I chuckled. “It’s official. Men in general ramble nonsense.”

Devious laughed; Sinister coughed. Against my better judgement, my head turned. I swore I saw his mouth twitch upward. Too fast, it seemed I was hallucinating. But the act was enough assurance that I had met him last time. Whatever change of personality he acquired now, I knew we were on the same page.

We are both pretenders, and I must know his reason. Enigmatic people for me are synonymous with danger.

“Fortune favors the cunning! Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow Damned, members of the Thirteen Ancient Bloodlines, to our beloved Jurists, and, of course, our aspiring candidates, welcome to the opening ceremony of our much awaited... The Selection!”

Applause and cheering followed the opening speech of the master of ceremony. I fought the urge to cover my ears as the sound continued to go on for almost a minute. My senses were heightened, and it was suffocating. I felt everything, and for a reason unknown, the presence of two Yllarions at my sides magnified it.