Thomson doesn’t answer right away.
“Sons bond Daughters,” he says finally. “Very rarely, we bond outsiders like you. But only after we’re sure the outsider can adapt to our lifestyle. That they can be trusted.”
He gives me a long look then. Like the verdict’s still out on whetherIcan be trusted.
“You mean they get engaged? Like to be married?”
He shakes his head. “No. Marriage comes later, if it happens at all. Bonding isn’t always romantic. Sometimes it is, two members falling for each other, choosing to be bound, but more often, it’s strategic. Calculated.” His mouth twists. “Sex is part of it, sure, but not for love. It’s about control. Power. It’s meant to forge loyalty between the male and female sides of The Order. It strengthens The Order as a whole.”
“Strengthen how?”
“Once a woman is selected by a Son to bond,” he says carefully, “she becomes his to do with as he pleases. In return, he takes care of her. Provides for her. Protects her.”
“Protects her fromeveryone but him,” I snap, the words tasting like acid.
Carrson’s voice echoes in my mind:I can fuck you, beat you, betray you.
Thomson winces. Then nods. “We try to keep things under control, but sometimes…they slip.”
“Women get hurt,” I finish for him, stomach twisting. “Why would anyonewanta setup like that?”
“Because that’s how they become Mothers.” His voice is quieter now. “Every Son wants to become a Father. Every Daughter wants to become a Mother. That’s when the answers come. Therealpower. The legacy. It’s revered, to raise a child in The Order.”
My skin crawls.
“When a Son decides to become a Father, usually around thirty, his Bonded can be elevated to Mother, but onlyifhe recommends her. Then they each get to have a child.”
“A child together?”
He shakes his head. “They each get their own, and that’s how we keep our numbers steady. The Father always has a Son. The Mother always has a Daughter. Once the Mother has the baby, she moves into her own place to raise the child while the Father stays in his house to raise his Son.”
“But you can’t determine a child’s gender. It’s not like you get to choose,” I argue, quick to point out the flaw in his explanation.
Thomson shrugs. “I don’t know how they do it. IVF, maybe? Fertility treatments? There must be surrogates involved because we never see them pregnant. The Mothers and Fathers disappear for a few weeks, and then they come back with a baby like it’s magic or something.”
He pauses, his brow furrowing like he’s still trying to make sense of it. He shakes his head and exhales, sharp and frustrated. “The result’s always the same,” he says quietly. “Every Father gets a Son. Every Mother gets a Daughter.” Another pause. “They each take the child back to their houses. The Mother’s house and the Father’s house.”
My stomach flips. “You’re all raised separately by design.”
He nods. “They tell us we’re not related. Just to be safe. You know…incest.”
We both make the same face, sour, nauseated,I might throw upfaces.
“No incest. Even for us,” Thomson mutters, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Besides, The Order wouldn’t allow it. It would weaken the gene pool.”
We sit in silence for a beat. The air feels heavier now, like the weight of everything he’s said is still settling.
Thomson adds, “There’s more to it, but that’s probably all you need to know since you’ll never get to that stage.”
I’m quiet, thinking it all through. “The Daughters, theywantto be bonded, don’t they? So they can eventually become Mothers. That’s when they finally get their own life. Their own space.”
“Right. They hold jobs. Own their homes. Full independence from the men, but only once they’ve earned it.”
“Earned it by obeying,” I say.
He doesn’t respond.
He doesn’t have to.
