Papa grunted in what sounded to my ears like agreement.
Mama brandished her spoon at me. “That’s not true. You’ve always been quick to think on your feet, you just take a little longer to process sometimes. And you won’t succeed if you enter the Mistrun thinking you’re doomed to fail.”
I sighed. “It’s more than that. I have no practice distance running. There wasn’t exactly an abundance of free time at the Reformatory, much less anywhere to train.”
“There would be too much harm to civilians in allowing unsavory elements such unfettered access,” Jessarian interjected. “And too much wasted space on the island, which is priceless, to spare for the fancies of Apostates.”
So much better that we fold for the excessive punitive fancies of the Ascendancy.
Mama reached over to fuss with my hair. “I will pray every day for you,” she promised. “It’s a shame we won't see you again until after graduation.”
IfI graduate.
Graduation provided all you needed for unsupervised service after your training was complete, both in access and materials. Mama had received a set of basic cookware after graduating from Scullery service, Papa had been given a first aid kit and several syringes as a Medic, and Nessa had been given farming equipment as a Cultivator.
I didn’t know what Voyagers received, besides a suicidally brief life expectancy. Diego was the first person I'd met who had successfully graduated from Voyager service–Voyagers didn’t spend much time on the mainland. It’s not like they could give us all Arcs, since there were only a dozen of them.
You’d think after two years I’d have adjusted to the reality that I had to become a Voyager, a reality my family had already internalized. At least if I was disqualified from Voyager service, I wouldn’t have to marry Jessarian. No world existed where he’dlower himself enough to wed a prisoner, regardless of her guilt or innocence. And I would be a prisoner again, if I failed to qualify tomorrow. “There should be other services available to Apostates. I’d take literally anything else.”
An awkward silence swelled around the table for a few beats.
“While I can appreciate your unique viewpoint, your perspective is skewed by yourlimitedexperiences. The mainland citizenry and standard services are not suited for Apostates,” Jessarian said.
It boggled the old noggin how he could separate me from the other Apostates he looked down on, even though we’d all been crammed together in the Reformatory less than twenty four hours ago. Maybe he considered my perspective with as little regard as he did all the other filthy criminals.
Somewhere on Mesmoria there was a woman who longed to be kept by a man like Jessarian. For someone demure and submissive, Jessarian was a catch. He’d insulate her from the perils of ever having to think for herself.
“I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”
Mama gave me a sharp look. I rolled my lips together before I said something worse.
“And people say romance is dead,” Nessa quipped.
Papa cleared his throat, “The food is delicious.”
“Yes, how rude of me,” Jessarian said. “You’ve truly outdone yourself. Typical Scullery service workers pale in comparison to your personal skills,” Jessarian added some winsome charm and a bruised smile. Mama gave an amiable tittering laugh.
The clattering of wooden utensils and sound of muffled chewing filled what would have otherwise been a thorny silence.
Figuring enough time had passed, I began pestering my family with questions on what I had missed. Nessa was dating ayounger man. The same man I’d seen sneaking out her window, I suspected. His name was Darric, and by the way Nessa's eyes softened whenever she mentioned him, she was head over heels for him. Papa had finally finished fully replacing the roof, sealing a few of the leaks that had been a problem over the years. An entirely new ceiling was above us from the one I had grown up under. You wouldn’t know it since he'd used the same raw materials. He'd also developed a small cough, one that came and went while he spoke. Mama was quieter, not as animated as she'd been before I left. There was also something charged in the air between her and Papa.
I couldn’t help wondering if my unexpected arrival had anything to do with it.
No one outright mentioned the reason I'd been sentenced, but it hung like a heavy curtain over the room.
Papa placed his napkin up onto the table. “So, Jessarian. What days were you considering for the nuptials?”
I gagged on a bite of sunberry pie, hacking to dislodge it. Jessarian replied before I had finished coughing. “As soon as Lisia’s completed her Voyager training, Devourer amenable.”
I need far more sweetstalk nectar to make it through this conversation.
“Right,” Papa mused, leaning back in his chair. “The ceremony should happen before she’s sent out on operations. It will be difficult to coordinate otherwise.”
“Of course,” Jessarian agreed, showing off his straight, milky-lavender teeth.
I contributed as much to the conversation as a mannequin, an empty presence at the table taking up space but without the significance of consideration. They were talking around me like I wasn’t even here. How would they react if I stabbed a knife into the table and declared ‘Show’s over!’
Things hadn’t changed while I was away. Jessarian was the same dutiful fiance he’d been two years ago. He followed his Tide like it was the only possible course, and as his betrothed I was just flotsam swept up in his current.
