He let them promise me to Elder Jacob without even asking what I wanted.
Compliant temperament— that’s the biggest lie of all.
The auctioneer pauses. "Turn, please."
Right. I'm supposed to turn.
To show myself. To let them see all of me.
I force my feet to move.
Start the slow rotation Margaret drilled into us.
Three-sixty degrees.
Let them see the back, the sides, the front again.
As I turn, my eyes adjust to the lights.
The audience comes into focus.
Rows of men in tuxedos.
Some leaning back in their seats.
Others leaning forward.
All watching.
And then I seehim.
Center section. Maybe ten rows back.
He's not leaning forward like the eager ones.
Not leaning back like the bored ones.
He's perfectly still.
Utterly focused.
On me.
Our eyes meet.
Ice blue.
Even from here, even through the stage lights, I can see they're blue.
Unnaturally blue.
The kind of blue that shouldn't exist in human eyes.
He's younger than most of the men here.
Handsome in a way that's almost unsettling.
Perfect. Too perfect.
