I practically run through the halls to the Headmistress’s office to tell her the news. Only when she calls me in do I realize several hours have passed since I last saw my friend. Headmistress is delighted, as I knew she would be, but when I inquire about Seven, her features tighten. “Several lords were interested in acquiring Seven as their wife. In these rare cases, we cannot afford to wait for the next ceremony to take place.”
My brows furrow. “So, where is she?”
Headmistress gives me a pitying look. “She’s gone, Ten. Her husband flew in to claim her an hour ago.”
I nod, but my brain hasn’t quite caught up with my body.She’s gone.My best friend, my confidant, my anchor in this life—gone. I swallow, only managing to croak out one word. “Where?”
“I am not at liberty to disclose that information.” The older woman crosses her arms and raises her chin, and for the first time, I can’t help but wonder ifsheeven knows where us girls end up after we’re married.
“I understand,” I say, even though it feels like the earth itself is crumbing beneath my feet.
I turn to leave, but Headmistress’s voice stops me in my tracks. “Have you been excused, Ten?”
I turn back toward her, trying to keep my breathing controlled. The panic episodes have lessened over the years, and I can usuallystop them before they escalate to a full-blown attack, but right now I feel like I’m losing that battle.
When I remain silent, Headmistress’s tone becomes less gentle. “I have some wonderful news. Your future husband is also rather eager to wed, it would seem. I will call him with news of your womanhood, and I’m sure he will be here within the week.”
My fingernails bite into my palms as I try to stay grounded. Every breath I pull into my lungs becomes more and more labored, and my heart starts to pound so hard I can feel it all the way in my toes. I hear the thwack of a hand hitting flesh before I register the pain blooming on my cheek.
I’m speechless as I meet her unforgiving gaze. “You stop that at once, young lady. There is no room for self-pity as a wife. You have been afforded a great privilege, and you will act as such.”
“Yes, Headmistress.” The words leave my mouth of their own accord; a programmed, automatic response.
“Good.” She gestures toward the chair on the opposite side of her desk, and I take a seat, though my fingers still feel numb. “There are a few things we need to discuss in regards to your new role. Firstly, you will address your husband and other married men aslordorsir, whichever they prefer. Only married men are afforded the title oflord, so you may call other menbrother. Your husband is the only one who may call you by your given name. You may address other wives assister, followed by their husband’s name, and unmarried women by their title. Do you have any questions?”
I shake my head no.
She continues her speech, one she’s likely given dozens of times by now. “You will keep track of your menstrual cycle with the intention of copulating during your fertile window each month, until you fall pregnant. Should you not become pregnant within the first year of your marriage, you will undergo fertility testing to ensure nothing is amiss.”
“Yes, Headmistress.”
She sighs quietly, and her tone softens. “You have been one of my best students, Ten. I know you can apply yourself in your new role just as you have done here.”
I nod, keeping my eyes on my interlaced fingers in my lap. “I will try my best.”
“Atta girl,” she praises. Normally, I live for verbal affirmation. Right now, her words do nothing to ease my worries.
I don’t sleep a wink that night.
Delilah
8 Years Ago
“Marriage ceremonies are to be performed by a Brotherhood clerk. The marriage does not become legally binding until consummation is confirmed.”—LAWS OF MARRIAGE, N.A.L. 5 § 3
I’m given a white, floor length dress for the ceremony. The high neckline is itchy, and I wring my hands together to avoid scratching at my neck. A sheer veil covers my entire face, so I can barely make out my new husband’s features. Although I haven’t seen or interacted with many men over the past five years, I can tell he’s older than me. By how much, I’m not sure, but he is definitely aman; there are no boyish features to be seen on his chiseled face.
The officiant drones on about the importance of marriage, the man’s role and the woman’s role, until it’s time to say the vows. “Do you, Gabriel, take this woman to be your wife? Do you promise to provide for her physical needs, protect her from harm, and give her children?”
“I do,” my new husband—Gabriel, apparently—says. His voice is deeper than I would’ve expected; a bit raspy.Maybe he smokes, I think.
The officiant turns to me. “And do you take Gabriel to be your husband? Do you promise to submit to him, obey without question, serve with eagerness, forsake all others, and bear him children?”
I recognize three of the five tenets we’ve recited every day since I arrived at the Institute, which makes it easy to respond appropriately. “I do.” Though, I remember seeing a video of my parent’s wedding when I was a child, and that ceremony sounded nothing like this one. There’s been no mention of love, or caring for each other in sickness and in health. Notil death do us part. I guess people don’t really marry for love these days, considering most couples don’t even meet until their wedding day.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Gabriel reaches forward and lifts the veil off my face before placing a hand on the back of my neck. He leans down and kisses me on the lips with surprising gentleness, just a quick peck, before he pulls away and looks at the officiant for confirmation. It all feels very transactional, like a business meeting rather than a wedding. My first kiss, over in a blink, and absolutely nothing like I thought it would be. “Is it done?”
