You Are Mine (Mine #1)(33)

“All of it.”

I glare at her and she glares back. The threat of Father is too heavy for me to ignore. Trying not to think about it, I down the tea as fast as I can.

She nods. “You have fifteen minutes. If you need help, I'll be right outside the door.”

Without another word, she leaves. As soon as the door latches, I shed the jewelry. With every piece, a load is taken from me, not just physically, but deep inside, lightening my very being. Once they're all back in their box, I apply the face paint. Not a lot, just some color on my eyes, cheeks, and lips. Finally, I grab my package. I pause for a moment. It would be easier if my sisters were here. Perhaps Katherine as well.

My fingers quiver as I unwrap it and put it on. The laces gathered on the front slow me a moment, but then I have it tied. The dress is silken against my skin.

I'm a little dizzy as I look in the mirror. The dress is a blood red, draping past my feet. The material is tight on my arms, but not restrictive, and comes down to my wrists where the back half bells out to the floor. The neckline is square and modest, but leaving my collar bone free. My lightly painted face smiles back.

There's not long before someone will come to get me. I'd prefer to go out there where there's less likely to be a scene. I hope. At least I'll be one step closer to where I need to be wearing this dress and one step farther from being forced into the slip.

Before I go, I stop at the jewelry box and make one concession. A silver necklace with a single square ruby. Mother's favorite. Whenever we take the jewelry box out, she threads it through her fingers and admires it before putting it back. As I put it on, my head feels a little fuzzy. The world tilts a little before righting itself. When the dizziness stops, I let the jewel rest against my chest. After several deep breaths to try and clear my head, I open my door and stride into an antechamber.

Father is talking to Phyllis and doesn't notice me. The world starts to pull away. Or maybe I'm pulling away from the world. Things seem far away. Off. A door closes somewhere.

Phyllis spots me and yelps.

Father follows her gaze to me and halts whatever he's saying. “What is that?” He gapes at me several moments, his face growing redder by the second. “You will change into the dress your mother provided immediately.”

I don't want to, but my far off body turns toward my room. A hand closes around my arm, stopping me.

“Don't change.” The Envadi lords over to me.

“Do you see what your future bride is wearing?” Father says. “She's dressed like a harlot.”

How can he think that? My dress is infinitely more modest than the traditional one. Yet the words bite. I've never been called such a name. I want to hide, but my body doesn't respond.

The Envadi's face is hard, his voice just above a whisper. “I gave her permission to wear it.”

“Are you mad? You must call off this ceremony immediately. You obviously can't control the wench. I'll take her in hand until she's subdued enough for the ceremony.”

“And how long do you think that will take?”

“Certainly no less than a year.”

The Envadi scoffs. “The ceremony will happen today and she will continue to reside at the manor.”

“You can't mean that.” Father's voice is lower now, but more dangerous. “You'd have her dressed as a red tarnished?”

No one says a word. I feel as if tears should be forming, but nothing comes. It's hard to be grateful I'm not fighting the weakness when I can't seem to do anything. Finally, the Envadi speaks.

“The ceremony will take place now or you will face the penalty of a broken contract.”

Why is he sticking up for me?

Father pounds toward me, hand raised.

“Any punishment will be doled out by me in private,” the Envadi says.

My stomach cramps. This is why he's sticking up for me. Mother was right. It's a trap. He'll see how far I'm willing to take my mistakes so he can punish me more. I'm only saved from losing my breakfast by the detachment that's plagued me.

Father growls and, instead of hitting me, yanks me to him. “Come. You're about to be sacrificed.”

What?

My feet move without my telling them to as my heart pounds. What did he mean by sacrificed? Phyllis opens a door and Father moves through it, dragging me along.

The chattering in the room silences. All faces stare at me, but I don't know what their expressions are like. One thing has captured my attention. A sacrificial altar. Just like at the tournament, but resting on a floor of stone instead of grass.

Who are they going to kill at my engagement ceremony? Whose life will be on my hands? It was hard enough so far away at the tournament, but now I'm a few feet from it. I'd run if I could.

Father lets go and I sway. He waves his hand. A blue thread of light travels to me and bursts under my feet. I'm flung in the air. I try to scream, but my body doesn't respond as I soar upward. Air rushes past me. The ceiling grows closer. The crowd more distant. Just before I hit the ceiling, the ascent stops.

If it wasn't for the tea, I would be screaming in terror, disregarding Katherine's warning from when she dropped off the dress. The crowd watches me from fifty feet below as my dress flaps in the breeze. The extra length is even more appreciated now.

The watching crowd unnerves me as I float there. I gaze upward. The arched ceiling is ten feet above me. I focus on it and try to ignore the feeling of air brushing the skin of my feet.