Description : Until the Sun Falls from the Sky
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...