Page 125 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“Bonding Carrson to me strengthens the Ashford claim.”

“Exactly. It gives everyone a future to rally behind. Carrson as High Father, with you beside him.”

I can’t picture that. Carrson and I sitting in the dining hall of Ashford House. A king with his queen. Thousands of people looking at us like we’re the answer.

“Does—does Carrson still want that?” I ask in a small voice. “To bond with me?”

Sam’s brow pulls together. “I haven’t spoken to him. No one has. Carr ordered him to question the surviving Jackals, and the Council made the decision without waiting.”

“So no one asked him?”

“No.”

Dread knots in my chest because I know The Order will force Carrson to bond with me whether he wants to or not.

Sam holds out her hand, and I accept it as I stand, my legs trembling after so long on the floor.

Before we leave, I cast one last glance back at the round room with the names of women.

I don’t know what their fate was.

I don’t know what mine will be either.

Chapter thirty-one

Bonding Day

Laurel

For the ball, Samantha dressed me like a queen. For my bonding to Carrson, she dresses me like an offering.

She applies the lightest makeup and leaves my hair loose, cascading down my back. Her movements are efficient, almost severe. Each time she reaches for another brush or pin, I watch her hands instead of my reflection.

Anger holds her body rigid. Her eyes are so dry it’s as though she wants to cry but is too furious to produce the tears.

As for me, I’ve gone numb.

Every tug on my hair and sweep of powder across my face feels like it’s happening to someone else. A girl raised for this. A girl who knows how to sit still while other people prepare her body for a future she didn’t choose. A girl who can look in the mirror without wanting to crawl out of her own skin.

Then Sam brings me a robe of pure white made from thick, luxurious cotton, with satin edging the cuffs and hem. Her cheeks deepen to ruby when she tells me to wear nothing under it, and I understand. It's merely decoration, meant to be removed at the earliest convenience.

Before I get undressed, I cross the room and close the curtains. We’re several floors above the lawn, and no one should be able to see inside but still, I can’t quite shake the sense of eyes on me. Paranoia, no doubt, my mind forecasting all the people who really will be watching me in less than an hour.

I take off my clothes without looking at her and pull the robe around me. The fabric is soft against my skin, which seems wrong. It should be rough enough to scrape me raw, but that wouldn’t suit The Order. They like things pretty on the outside and broken underneath, where no one can see.

I belt it at my waist, tightening the tie as far as it will go, but the front gapes enough to expose my throat, collarbones, and the upper curves of my breasts. The edge brushes the raw brand above my heart, and even that featherlight touch stings.

My hand goes to the necklace at my throat, the one Carrson gave me that says mine. I leave it on. It doesn’t count as clothing as far as I’m concerned, and I want him to see it the instant he enters the room. To know I kept it. That I’m committed to him, even if he’s given up on me.

It’s late afternoon, and we’re back at Ashford House in the room I share with Carrson, although Sam says he’s getting ready downstairs. The couple being bonded aren’t permitted to see each other before the ceremony.

Just like a wedding, except no one asked the groom whether he still wants the bride.

Sam’s witnessed bonding ceremonies before. While she works, she explains the basics. Carrson and I will exchange vows. Carr will give us a knife. We’ll cut our palms and press them together, joining our blood while The Order watches.

She knows the ceremony up to that point.

The sealing is where her knowledge gets fuzzy.