Free The Choosing by Rachelle Dekker Page A

tone had the two men scurrying away like rats and Carrington released a shaky breath. She brushed the dirt from her knees and stole a second to get control of her face. This man had already seen her lose it once.
    When she rose again, the guard was standing patiently as if waiting for her to give him a signal that she was all right. There was no longer any darkness in his eyes, only tenderness. She held his glance a moment longer than she should have, expecting him to turn away, but he stood firm. He didn’t seem to shy away from seeing what was really behind her eyes.
    Comfort in the presence of a man was a rarity for a woman until she was chosen, and for those who never were, it was practically unheard of. Especially if the man was a CityWatch guard. Carrington didn’t even know this man’s name, but she felt so secure in his presence it made her breath catch and her skin heat in a way that was completely foreign to her.
    He said nothing, but she did remember the way he had struggled before and assumed that finding words wasn’t something that came very easily to him. She shot him a small smile and tucked her hair behind her ear.
    “I’m fine,” Carrington said.
    “Are you sure?” he asked. His voice was smooth andkind. He might not be able to use his voice much, but when he did, it made her heart jump.
    “Yes, thank you.”
    He returned her smile and waited as she walked back toward the door to Alfred’s room. She turned and gave him a final nod and he slightly bowed before walking out of the alley the same way he had come in.

9
    Sleep had always come easily for Carrington, but the last couple of nights had made all her previous night terrors seem harmless. She sat up in the dark and swung her legs out from under the covers. Another nightmare, same as before. Her classmates chanting truth number six.
    “Not to be chosen would yield a cruel fate of my own making.”
    Even with her eyes open she could hear their horrid, hateful chanting. She knew trying to get back to sleep would be a waste, so she stood quietly, dressed, and stepped out to the main room. The loft was eerily quiet and stuffy enough to make it hard to breathe. Carrington remembered that her Lint guide mentioned a library on the fourth floor during the brief orientation. Maybe reading would distract her mind enough to shut out the wicked little voices.
    Carrington carefully made her way out of her loft and down the hall to the elevator. She was thankful that it moved smoothly enough not to be disruptive to the girls sleeping as she dropped past their floors. When the car reached the fourth floor, the door slid open and Carrington used the dim hall light to read the door numbers. The doors looked muchlike the ones on her own floor, numbered with a small black box beside each one.
    The last door on the right was different from the rest. It had a glass panel in the center and was labeled in small, perfect gold letters across the top: Library . The door pushed open easily.
    Inside, the room was silent. A breeze drifting from an air vent cooled the space and made it very comfortable. It wasn’t large; maybe ten bookshelves in either direction filled the square room. She imagined they were organized alphabetically and were approved reading only.
    After the Ruining, most literature had been collected, but as the Authority grew, they had begun to filter out unacceptable reading. The works that remained were about their past, their hopes for the future, science, math, psychology, and government. Most literature these days featured religious excerpts from the Veritas . Very little dealt with art, and none of it was fiction. Carrington couldn’t even imagine reading an entire work of literature based on “make-believe.” Such contraband had been strictly forbidden in her home.
    She moved deeper into the room and found a lamp in the center of a little round wooden table and flicked it on. It glowed a soft yellow and Carrington took a moment