You Are Mine (Mine #1)(38)

Grateful I don't have to pull the cord that rings for Phyllis, I grab the tray and set it on my lap. A note waits with my name on it. I ignore it in favor of strawberries and some pastries. Once my stomach isn't so ravenous, I grab the note.





Tell Phyllis that Councilman Stephen won't be rid of me so easily.

~Zade





I lurch to my feet, and the tray falls to the floor with a crash. I step on a strawberry, squashing it beneath my foot, as I hurry to the mirror. Just above my right collar bone is a hollow circle, like a ring, about cherry-sized. A thin line curving around top, thickening as it bends toward the bottom. I brush my fingers over it. My brand.

“Doesn't look like a new mark. Skin's not red enough.”

I jump and almost scream, but stop the sound from escaping. Phyllis stands behind me.

“Don't startle me like that.”

“I knocked but you didn't answer, and it's almost lunch time so I figured you should be awake. It's plain for an engagement brand.” She sounds more curious than disdainful like I'm expecting.

I look back in the mirror. Definitely not as elaborate as some, but he could be saving that for the wedding.

Phyllis clucks her tongue. “My, you made a mess this morning.”

Suddenly, I'm aware of the wet, mushed strawberry beneath my foot. As I peel it off, I notice it left pink marks across the rug leading to the dropped tray. I hope Phyllis isn't too upset over the mess. It'll be a pain to clean. I move to help her, but stop when I remember the tea.

“The note might as well be for you. Take it with you when you're done cleaning.”

I grab clean clothing, and leave without another word, slamming the door. Cynthia should have been awake hours ago. In fact, I can't believe I slept so late. I pound on her door with my free hand. A moment later, it opens.

Cynthia takes one look at me and opens the door wider. Once I'm in, she closes the door and leans against it. “How was it?”

I throw my clothes on a table and slump into a chair. “I can't talk about it.”

She eyes my brand, but doesn't mention it. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Unless you can get rid of Phyllis, no.”

“Phyllis?” She moves to the chair across from me. “What does she have to do with it?”

“If she ever offers you tea, turn it down. If anyone offers you tea that smells like dirt, throw it at them.”

“Are you well, Serena?”

“No. It was awful. It made me not myself. I was far away and couldn't control my actions. Whatever I was told to do, I did.” I put my hands to my face. “Just promise me you'll never drink anything that smells like dirt or that someone says will help when it's your time for this.”

“If it makes you feel better, I promise not to.”

It doesn't matter what she promises. If someone threatens her, she won't have a choice.

My dress is wrinkled from being slept in. Part of me doesn't want to take it off, the other part wants it gone. Mostly, I hope there's no punishment for my wearing it. I rise and begin unlacing my dress. “Would you help me change?”

Cynthia stares at me a moment before saying, “You can unlace your dress? I didn't know we could have ones like that. Where did you get it?”

“It's from my engagement ceremony.”

She throws my change of clothes back down and comes closer, inspecting it. “That's your engagement dress?”

“It is.”

“But it's not black, and it's an actual dress.”

“Rather lovely isn't it? Crinkled and in need of a good washing now.” I glance down at it. “Perhaps I should just burn it.”

“What? No, don't do that. If you really want to be rid of it, I'll take it for you.”

I resume unlacing. “Why do you want it?”

“Why don't you?”

Because I can still feel it flapping in the air while I'm plummeting to the ground. Because the cold stone of the altar seeped into it. Because my blood might as well be one with it.

Neither of us says anything as she helps me into some clean clothes. A bath would feel nice, but I'll wait to draw one for myself when Phyllis isn't around. I ball up my red dress and throw it toward the door. Cynthia goes after it.

“Just leave it. If you want it so bad, I'll clean it for you.”

Ignoring me, she picks it up, folds it, and places it on a side table. Her fingers continue to pick at it. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but yesterday, was the Envadi barbaric as it's said they are?”

I adjust my sleeves. “I wish I could tell you everything. Nothing was as I thought it would be, not even the Chancellor.”

I take off the necklace, never to wear another. The Woman's Canon says that a woman who is engaged or married must never wear jewelery as if we'll somehow use jewels to gain freedom. If that was the case, I would have used them to fight against Father long ago. I sigh and slip it into Cynthia's jewelry box. “Would you like me to do your face paint?”

She hesitates by the door, looking over my clean face. “Yes, but I'd prefer it on the light side.”

Once I'm working on her paint, things feel more natural. Though I've enjoyed having more freedom from it being caked on, the motions are familiar. Comforting. A few minutes after I've finished, a knock sounds.