“We’re looking for an esteemed couple. A model marriage for the entire campus. You’d go to university events. And demonstrate to everyone at Northview how perfect your match is. We’ll host a more traditional wedding instead of the ritual. For you two and for the press. Northview will see what great benefits attending this university and the Seven provide for our students.” She slides the letter toward me, and my fingers go numb. Not for fear of what she’ssaying, but whatever’s on the paper.
“This sounds like a good plan—” I start, but she interrupts.
“It was common for seniors to perform their vow ceremony in the Cathedral of the Seven Moons just after oraround graduation. However, withyouand your chosen appointed? We would like to move that up.”
“Move up…”
“We want you to get marriednow. As soon as possible. And also.” She stops. Abruptly. Face stoic and unreadable.
I clear my throat, but my voice still cracks. “Also?”
“We’ve delved into your records and discovered you’re an excellent initial candidate for the Genetic Continuity Program.”
Damn. That was in the abbreviations she listed. What did it mean? She must see the confusion on my face, so she quickly broadens her grin and continues.
“We want you and your new wife to begin procreating for the Sevenimmediately.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I come from a large family. Always planned to have one myself. And to start early. Just like Mom and Dad.
“Sure. That sounds?—”
She doesn’t wait for my answer. Instead, she shoves the document at me and sits back with a pleased expression.
“You want me to…” Fuck. Do I need to read this for her?
“Take it.Thatis your appointed. Congratulations. We’ve carefully selected your mate for life.”
She stands and offers her hand. I shake it emphatically.
“I won’t let you nor the Seven down, ma’am.”
With a proud lift of her chin, she says, “I know you won’t.”
I smile and turn to leave.
“Don’t forget your assignment!” She chuckles as my cheeks flush with chagrin.
“Oh,” I laugh at myself. “Right.”
She considers my face carefully. My eyes skim over the page, and I nod the way I’ve learned to do. “Ah, yes.”
“I hope you’re pleased with her.”
“I’m sure I will be. Thank you.”
Grimacing with embarrassment, I fold the letter and slide it into my pocket. It feels like a lead weight.
When I reach the parlor, voices echo up the marble staircase leading to the foyer.
“No, we’re tagging her. She’s the main target.”
“You’re giving usallpermission to tag her?”
“Yes,” Ayan says. “Every single one of you. Make her night fuckingmiserable. Got it?”
Someone claps their hands as I reach the top step. A group ofBetasheads out the door, but I catch one of them saying, “Scout Turner is going to wish she never cheated on you.”
“Not after Thriller Thursday.”
