Despite everything, warmth bloomed in my chest.
He had a plan. Or he trusted me to have one. Either way, he wasn’t giving up and neither would I.
I nodded.
After, I took a towel and dried myself, dressing in undergarments without help.
Then they brought out the wedding gown.
I stared at it, bile scorching the back of my throat.
The dress was hideous. Deliberately so, if I knew my wretched father. Heavy fabric, restrictive boning, and a neckline so high it would choke me if I moved wrong. Pearls and lace covered every bit of the surface, weighing it down until I’d barely be able to move. Long sleeves buttoned at the wrists would hide my skin from view.Modest. Virginal. A costume designed to hide the “shame” of my compromised state. Father had chosen it specifically to punish me.
I let them dress me like a doll, much like they’d dressed me like a doll on each Day of Mercy.
Mae arranged my hair, weaving it into an elaborate style that pulled at my scalp. Her hands trembled as she worked.
“Your man loves you,” she whispered, so low I almost missed it. “I see it in how he looks at you.”
Something broke deep inside me, and tears seeped out. “I’m…afraid,” I whispered. It would be wrong not to admit it. “But I will not relent. I will not comply.”
“You’re strong,” she whispered back. “You’ll find a way.” The exchange steadied me, pushing me toward the possibilities racing through my mind.
I wasn’t going to stand at that altar like a tiny creature led to slaughter.
“Mae,” I breathed, barely audible. “The knife you used to carry at your side. Do you still have it?”
Her hands stilled for a moment before continuing their work. When she reached for another pin on the table, she slipped the small blade into my right pocket.
Our eyes met in the mirror. Hers were wet with unshed tears.
“I can’t stand that this is happening.”
I gave her the smallest nod. I had two blades now. I had my training. And I had a will that wouldn’t break.
When she’d finished, she turned me toward the mirror. A stranger stared back at me. Pale face. Hollow eyes. My hair had been pulled back so severely it changed the shape of my face.
My new mask, though not the one of vengeance I’d envisioned.
The dress had transformed me into someone I didn’t recognize. Someone obedient.
Broken.
Except Iwasn’tbroken, and I refused to let my father destroy me.
I reached into the pocket of my discarded pants, retrieving the striped stone Trew had given me. Smooth and cool against my palm,it was a tangible reminder that he existed, that what we had was real.
I slipped the stone into my wedding dress pocket.
My ladies urged me out into the sitting area, where the guards looked at anything but me. Were they feeling guilty for their involvement in this? I hoped so.
The door opened, and Father stepped inside the room, dressed in formal robes, his face full of cold satisfaction.
“It’s time,” he said.
I didn’t move.
He crossed the room and latched onto the same arm he’d bruised last night hard enough to make me gasp.