"I wanted to speak with you privately." Celeste angles her body to face me. "About my son."
My pulse kicks up. "Okay."
"Asher is... complicated." She chooses the word carefully. "He's been groomed for leadership his whole life. Shaped by expectations most people couldn't comprehend."
I nod, unsure where this is going.
"He doesn't let people in easily." Her pale eyes study my face. "In fact, I can't remember the last time he brought anyone home."
“Oh...” I don’t know how to respond to that. I know from Asher that he’s never had a real girlfriend before, so it doesn’tsurprise me that he’s never brought anyone home, but I don’t know why Celeste is telling me this. “Asher and I…we care about each other a lot.”
"I'm sure you do." Celeste's head tilts. "But caring and being compatible are different things. My son operates in a world of power, precision, control. He requires someone who understands that. Who can move through his circles without..." she pauses, looking at me pointedly, "wilting."
It takes a moment for the words to process in my head, but once they do, the message lands like a slap.
You're not good enough.
“Celeste.” I try to channel a version of myself that’s stronger, more fitting of being Asher’s wife. “We’re in love, and that’s all that matters.”
Her lips press together, like she’s pitying me. “Love.” It sounds mocking coming from her lips. “Unfortunately,loveisn’t going to be enough for Asher.”
She’s looking at me like I think this is a fairytale produced by Disney. Like love is the solution and enough to mend all wounds. What’s worse is that some part of my brain truly does believe that. I grew up seeing my parents madly in love with one another, believing that with the right partner, you could face any challenge. But Asher and I don’t actually love each other.
"Grace, you seem like a lovely girl. Sweet. Genuine. But those qualities don't always translate well into our world. The scrutiny, the expectations, the constant performance required…" She gestures around the retreat. "This is just a taste."
My throat tightens. "What are you saying?"
Celeste's expression morphs into a faux softness, but underneath, I can still see the cunning woman I’m coming to recognize.
"I'm saying that sometimes the kindest thing we can do is recognize when we're not suited for something. Before anyone gets hurt."
20
ASHER
Ispend the morning with my brothers, but my thoughts are plagued with the memory of Grace’s body against mine. Her calm breathing, the softness of her skin, the way her arms wrapped around me and clung on. I’ve never spent the night in bed with someone before. I expected it to be as awkward as she was making it out to be last night. But then I woke in the middle of the night, listening to her little rambles. I wasn’t lying to her when I told her she talks in her sleep.
Grace looks shaken when she enters the dining hall for breakfast. She finds me sitting at a table with my brothers and rushes over. I extend my arm to grab her waist before she reaches her seat, tugging her closer and pulling her down so I can kiss her. She seems surprised by the action, and then after a second, she relaxes and kisses me back.
“Aw,” Wren crows from the other side of the table. “The happy couple.”
“Get a room.” Dove attempts to sound playful, but annoyance shines through as she joins the table, her Ken doll next to her.
“Did we invite you here, Pigeon?” Wren turns his attention to our sister. “There are plenty of other tables.” He gestures around the room, but Dove just rolls her eyes and sits down.
“How was yoga?” I ask, and Grace’s face changes. She casts a glance at Dove, and then turns back to me, and I can tell before she even speaks that she’s about to lie.
“Good.”
I make a mental note of the lie to address later, but for now, in front of my family, I nod and let it go.
“Welcome everyone!” my mother coos from the front of the room, and all heads turn to her.
These retreats always have the Sanctum’s c-suite, but in addition to us are my mother’s closest followers. Some would call them friends, or even her Celestia groupies, but like a cult leader, my mother refers to them as her “followers.” A group of women obsessed with Celeste and her spiritual teachings. Each one will claim that my mother saved their life, and paying to attend this retreat and get one-on-one time with her is the highlight of their year.
“The spring equinox is a time for us to shed the weight of the winter and step out from the darkness and into the light. Each of you should have received your personalized itinerary. I took the time to…”
I zone out as soon as she saysshetook the time too. I know for a fact that it’s Calla, her blonde-headed assistant who arranged everything. She stands off to the side, clipboard in hand, watching my mother speak with a huge smile on her face. She might be the most devout of my mother’s followers.
