Later that evening, I decided that, number one, I was going to stop trying to formulate an escape plan. The reality was I was going to be married at the reveal and had no say in which my groom would be, so I just had to accept that fact and hope for the best that the just God everyone spoke of would not punish me by pairing me with Altair. Number two, I had to face the girls. I invited Lil and Rachel to my room that evening and told them everything. I didn’t shed any tears as I recounted Altair’s insanity, but both of my friends cried for me. I was all out of tears and hope for escaping my future.
My wounds faded surprisingly quickly with the assistance of the paste the healer provided. Only faint pink bracelets remained on my wrists and ankles. The corners of my mouth healed completely. Miss Annette started making me an herbal tea that the healer sent over to help with any residual stress that remained after the events of that night. It did help me rest less fitfully at night, having staved off the nightmares. I no longer woke up screaming for help.
The day of the reveal was a whirlwind. My wedding day. Women that I’d never seen before scurried through our hallway from one room to the next, helping Miss Annette prepare our bodies for the evening’s events that lay ahead. Miss Annette wouldn’t admit it, but she didn’t believe any of us would be the chosen. I agreed.
Aria was, well, Aria, and I was not religious at all. I mean, I didn’t know much about any of it, but I supposed that I believed in God and Satan, heaven and hell, but I wasn’t interested in the belief consuming my life. If any member of our trio stood a chance, it was Lil. She was sweet, kind, and quietly faithful. She would definitely be my choice.
Pleasant, unfamiliar women flew in and out of my room, bringing water, cloths, soap, and containers of various lotions and liquids. I was mercilessly scrubbed by these strangers. My hair was washed twice and lathered with a lotion-like substance that smelled like vanilla and exotic flowers. Then rinsed and rinsed and rinsed until nothing remained but my long tresses and the warmly intoxicating scent that lingered on them.
I was roughly dried off by two rather large women, who were anything but gentle, shoved into my robe and pushed into a chair to the side of the tub where strips of fabric had been stacked beside. The door slammed open, and in strode a confident plump woman with fiery red curly hair tied in a bun, freckles over every inch of her exposed skin. She knelt before me and placed a container beside the chair and wiped her hands dry on her apron.
“What’s that?” I asked, motioning toward the pottery she just brought in. She just laughed heartily and said, “Oh, you’ll see, dear!” The other women in the room laughed with her at the inside joke to which I was not yet privy. She opened the lid of the pot and placed it to the side and stirred its contents with a spoon.
It was golden. Honey? It seemed thicker than honey though. She spread the warm, sticky stuff on my shin in a long, thick line and then covered it with one of the strips of fabric and rubbed it down.
“What are you doing?” I tried to back further into the wooden chair but had nowhere to go. She looked up and grinned and said,
“On three. One...two...three!” And ripped the fabric off of my leg, along with all of the hair that was attached to it. To say that I screamed wouldn’t do it justice. I’m sure my shrill reverberated through the entire fortress tower. The pain didn’t get any easier to bear either. It was the same with each strip. I actually think this woman enjoyed herself. She laughed until tears sprung from her eyes. I had tears in my eyes too, but I certainly wasn’t laughing.
I was placed in the sunshine that my window provided while three women divided my hair amongst them and combed the tangles away and continued combing until it was damp instead of dripping wet. They spread lotion on my skin and massaged my shoulders, neck, and back with deliciously fragrant oil. I’d never smelled anything so beautiful. “What is this scent?” I asked, inhaling the floral notes wafting up from my skin.
“Lavender, miss,” the young lady answered as she kneaded the knots from the back of my neck. So this is what lavender smells like. It is amazing. Next, three different women filed in, and several left my room simultaneously. The three new women—two petite and one very tall, all thin and pretty young, close to my age, began to style my hair. They combed, braided, twisted, pinned, yanked, and tortured my hair into submission. They stood back when finished, and I took in my reflection. It was beautiful. The council mandated that our hair be put up in order to leave our backs bare.
The backs of our dresses would be open as well. From when I chose to pay attention in class, the Lord would place a mark on the back of his chosen, which would indicate her arrival to all who saw it. I couldn’t remember what the mark was supposed to look like or if anyone even knew. Should have paid better attention.
My hair was a mass of pinned curls in the center surrounded by swirls of thick braids with small braids spiraling into those. How they got all my hair up was beyond my comprehension. But it looked amazing, and I was pleased. Next came makeup.
The girls powdered and painted me and lined my blue eyes with charcoal. My lips were like plump cherries. The powder made my skin luminous and hid every blemish. After they’d finished, I was left alone in my room, wrapped in my towel and robe. Miss Annette was the next to enter, holding a white bunch of fabric. My dress. “It’s almost time, Solara.”
She made me some of the healer’s herbal tea, and I sipped its warmth as she unfolded the white mass of fabric. Oh. My. Goodness. It is so beautiful. I covered my mouth and sat the cup down. “It’s lace. I doubt you’ve ever seen the fabric. I was able to purchase some from the trader and had this made especially for you. It should fit your body perfectly if the seamstresses did their job right. Come on. Let’s get you dressed.”
She had brought white undergarments and corset as well. She laced the corset tightly. My body jerked in response to her domination of the garment. It was cut lower than any I’d worn before as the dress’s back would be open. She helped me maneuver the dress over my head without disturbing my hair.
It slid silkily over my skin and hugged my curves perfectly. White lace draped over my body from its high neckline to the delicate sleeves that stretched to my elbows down to the completely open back that formed a V whose point sat dangerously low for my comfort. She slowly buttoned the silk from the end of the V down across my bottom, where they ended. The fabric slithered tight against my waist and upper thighs, flaring out from the knee to the floor. A small train trailed behind me. Miss Annette slipped beautiful white satin heels onto my feet. The toes of the shoes were pointed and elegant.
She backed away and looked at me and smiled, pursing her lips together. “Only missing one thing,” she said, reaching into the pockets of her apron. She pulled out a set of pearl studded earrings, which I slid and pinned into place, and then she clasped a necklace strung entirely with small delicate pearls around my neck. Grabbing my hand in hers, she said, “You look beautiful.” She rubbed the backs of my hands, and her thumb grazed the obsidian on my right ring finger. My mother’s ring. “Never take this off, Solara. Promise me that.” She looked in my eyes, brows tight, mouth pursed.
“I promise, Miss Annette,” I muttered, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor.
“You need to listen to me. You have to trust me. Look at me.” With those words, she grabbed my gaze, holding it hostage with her own. “Solara, I need you to trust Faric tonight. Do you understand?” she slowly enunciated through clenched teeth. What? Why Faric? Wasn’t he getting married? I wasn’t marrying him. Was I? Was Altair up to something? What about Wes? He said he had connections.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I asked, cautiously awaiting an answer she would never give.
“Just trust me. Trust Faric. He alone has your best interests in mind. I can’t tell you anything more in case I’m wrong, but please promise to trust him. Please, Solara,” she begged. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Flabbergasted, words would not pass my throat, so I just nodded feverishl
y. She nodded back and let me go. “Let’s go. It’s time.”
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, stood up straight, and confidently entered the hallway where the other brides were waiting. Lil looked beautiful in a floor-length fitted satin gown, cut low in the back with a V neckline trimmed in lace.
Her blonde hair was intricately braided and fell over her right shoulder. Rachel wore a cream-colored satin gown that was sleeveless, fitted on top and bell-shaped and full at the bottom.
Her strawberry blonde hair flowed to her shoulders, falling in soft spirals. Her dress didn’t have the open back of course. I even had to admit that Aria was beautiful. Her braids swirled round her head in intricate patterns as if her hair were a braided fitted hat. Someone had pinned into her tresses, a delicate fringe of black feathers that bled into the ebony of her hair. Her dress’s high neck was delicate, drifting across her shoulders into a deep plunging diamond in the back. Its top was held together by a delicate white button. Miss Annette dabbed the tears from her eyes with a small cloth as she looked us all over as we stood side by side one final time.
In true Aria fashion, she placed her hand on her hip, sneered through her crimson lips, and said, “One last time...let’s go, bitches!” Our laughs echoed down the hallway, where we left
Miss Annette, and all of her smiling assistants waving behind us. The only thing the three of us had in common now was that we would now be common. No marks had magically appeared on our backs. We would be married, assigned jobs, and enter society as equals with everyone else in the kingdom. The thought was refreshing in a way. A weight was lifted as the expectations and hopes for the chosen drifted away with each glance of our backs as we entered the ballroom. I was the last to enter, catching one last fresh breath, one last glance at the sunset sky slashed in blues and purples, oranges, and pinks.
The smell of jasmine, familiar from the introduction in this same building, was the first thing I noticed. There were new candles everywhere, providing their warm light along with the last rays of sun still sprinkling through the large room’s western windows. The other eligible women are adorned in beautifully simple but elegant white linen gowns that curved and flared over their female forms perfectly. Their hair, much shorter than ours, was curled or braided or pinned up. They all wore colorful floral wreaths in their hair and were beaming with smiles and excitement. No doubt they were happy because they likely knew their about-to-be husbands. That was what was missing! It dawned on me. Where were the grooms?
A middle-aged woman with chin-length auburn hair stood on the stage and cleared her throat. “Ladies”—she waited for the noises to subside—“organizers will be coming around to move you each into your proper place. Thank you,” she said cheerfully and stepped off of the stage, holding her emerald dress up during her descent. Women in light blue dresses came around and ushered the non-potential women toward the far end of the building, forming a line. Rachel buffered their group from ours.
She was somewhere in the middle, not fitting in completely with the women to her left or with us, though she fit in perfectly with me and Lil. The trio we had formed was dear to my heart. I was placed next to Rachel, Lil to my right, and Aria to hers, leading the formation.
The main doors swung open and gentlemen filed in. Most wore their best dark-colored trousers and white or cream tunics on proud shoulders accented with excited smiles. Faric and the guards from the introduction filed in next, donning their handsome suits. He glanced at me, working the muscle in his jaw and nodded as he walked past. I nodded back slightly, releasing a pent-up nervous breath.
Then I saw Wes, confidently striding through the doorway in his dark suit. His slightly curly hair looked perfectly in place, and his emerald eyes caught mine, and he gave a lopsided smile, which I gladly returned as he passed by to stand in front of Rachel. The line of men kept filing into the room and someone stopped before me.
Then my stomach clenched, and I couldn’t catch my breath. The room started spinning when I saw him, grinning at me from his position directly across from mine. No. Please tell me they aren’t placed in order yet. It can’t be him.
Lil noticed my reaction and nudged my arm, “Lars, are you okay?” She followed my gaze and saw who stood before me.
“What is he doing here? Are they still letting him get married?” she whispered angrily.
“I don’t know, but oh God, Lil, what if he’s paired with me?” I shook. Her eyes widened, and she grabbed my hand with her small warm one.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” she gritted through her teeth, glaring in Altair’s direction. His small beady stare was trained on me. My skin crawled at the very sight of him.
A tall thin white-haired man with matching beard climbed the steps and stood behind a wooden podium, placing paper down in front of him. He cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me,” he waited for quiet and resumed, “ladies and gentlemen, we will now commence the ceremony. Will the potentials please step forward for the reveal?”
Aria strode first to stand in front of the stage, her back to the crowd as a council member combed over the skin of her back, checking for the mark of the Chosen of God. The tension was palpable as members of the village held their breaths in hope.
The man examined Aria like a physician and shook his head at the man on the podium. “Aria, you are not the chosen. You are to be married today...to Rogan. Please find and stand with your groom.” She turned, smiled at us, and sauntered toward Rogan, who was smiling from ear to ear. His dark skin looked like silk under the lights as he reached his hands toward her. Good luck, Rogan.
Lil let go of my hand as the gentleman on stage called her forward. She smiled over her shoulder nervously at me as every inch of her skin was raked over. The examiner shook his head again. “Lillian, you are not the chosen. You are to be married today...to Faric. Please join your groom.” Faric and Lil? Why did the thought bother me? She squared her shoulders and strode past, locking eyes with mine. My stomach dropped and my mouth turned to cotton. What if it was him? What would my life be like? Would he hurt me? Kill me? He has to be angry after what happened on the balcony. He said he would punish me. Oh God!
The announcer said something that I didn’t hear. Rachel nudged my back. “They called you forward, Lara, go,” she prodded.
I moved numbly toward the front, positioning my back toward the crowd. The examiner was a middle-aged man. His blond hair was fading to silver along his ears and neck. He wasn’t much taller than me and very slender. Stretching his hand toward mine, he smiled and pushed up his glasses with the other. I took his hand. It was very cold compared to the hot moisture oozing from my own. I stepped forward and stood in position for all to see the bare skin of my back. Heat rose in my cheeks at the thought of all of the eyes on my flesh. His cold hands skimmed methodically down and over my back until nothing remained. He shook his head, and the announcer stepped forward.
Time stopped for a moment. I grabbed the fabric over my heart, and it pounded in protest against my skin. I blinked a few times in slow motion and then reality slapped me in the face, awakening me. “Solara, you are not the chosen. You will be married today to...” Please don’t let it be Altair, Lord! I begged silently. A bead of sweat ran down the side of my face. “Wesley. Please join your groom.” He waved, motioning me forward.
I exhaled and closed my eyes as I spun around. Thank goodness! I walked slowly toward the back of the room, my eyes finally found Wesley. My husband. His warm smile and sparkling deep green eyes met me, and I felt all the muscles in my body relax.
He reached out and grabbed my hands in his. They fit together perfectly and his were as warm as mine, though not as sweaty. I moved to stand beside him and hooked my arm through his outstretched elbow.
The spirits of the villagers, though still happy, seemed to have sunk a little. We weren’t their chosen—whatever that meant to them. Rachel was beckoned forward, and she bounced to the front of the stage. The examiner had retired from his p
osition as it was no longer necessary. She beamed a smile at us and stood waiting for her assignment, fingers interlaced in anticipation.
“Rachel, please join Toran, your groom,” said the announcer, and before he had finished his sentence, she was already bouncing toward him. It was a strange pair. Toran who had been Lil’s guard at introduction was serious, always walking around sharply, taking in his surroundings. I supposed it was the guard in him. Strawberry blonde hair met light brown as Rachel almost tackled Toran in a huge hug. The surprise on his face was hilarious.
The non-potential girls were paired and seemed happy with their matches. The lean man cleared his throat once again and began, “Please join hands with your spouse.” He waited until all pairs complied before continuing, “Gentlemen, please repeat after me.”
With my hands squeezed in his, Wesley smiled and repeated,
“I take you as my wife. Your life will now be my own, and I offer you mine in return. We shall be forever as one. Inseparable until death,” he confidently said, his eyes boring into mine.
“Ladies, please repeat after me,” he led. I grabbed his hands tighter, trying to steady my quaking legs, afraid my voice would also quake. But it held firm as I repeated, “I take you as my husband. Your life will now be my own, and I offer you mine in return. We shall forever be as one. Inseparable until death.” I exhaled deeply at the thought of such a pledge. He smiled sheepishly at me, and I returned the favor.
Then the announcer said, “Gentlemen, you may kiss your brides.” My eyes widened. I didn’t realize this was part of the ceremony. Wes stepped forward, a lopsided smile on his face and a hunger in his eyes. I caught a glimpse of his dimple. I raised my chin as he was about four inches taller than me. He gently cupped my face and leaned down and gently grazed my lips with his own. His breath holding the sweet scent of mint, mingled with mine. The corners of his eyes bent with a smile that matched the one hanging on his lips, and he gently pressed his lips to mine.
Pariah (The New Covenant Series) Page 8
