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‘So you’ll choose for me?’ I ask slowly. No doubt it will be a political match.
‘We already have.’ He flashes a blinding smile. ‘Me.’
The blood rushing in my head drains out, and I grip the arms of my chair to stay upright.
Marry Cormac?
‘I’m only sixteen,’ I whisper.
‘We’ll wait for you to turn seventeen as custom dictates in the larger metros,’ he says in a casual voice.
I struggle to make sense of what he’s telling me. I stand to look out of the window. ‘But how old are you?’
Cormac scowls. ‘Renewal tech makes that a non-issue,’ he says through clenched teeth.
‘Not for me.’
‘What? You think you can go out and marry some young pretty boy?’ he asks, his voice rising steadily. ‘Let me make this clear: it has been decided. The Guild wants assurance that you’re being tightly monitored.’
‘And you’re just the man to do that,’ I say, narrowing my eyes.
‘You’ll enjoy the same privileges and get to have children.’
I choke back the stomach acid this statement sends shooting up my throat. ‘You can have kids?’
‘Of course,’ he says, straightening his tux jacket. ‘My genetic materials have been safely stored since I was a younger man.’
Much younger. Of all the possibilities I mourned when I was brought to the Coventry, having babies was not on that list.
‘So I’ll be’ – I search for the word, my thoughts moving too fast for me to latch onto them – ‘impregnated.’ My only solace is that if I can’t escape, traditional methods of procreation won’t be necessary. Although lying back on a medic table and letting some . . .
‘Our biogenetics team has created a patch that will ensure I can procreate much the same as any young father.’ His black eyes gleam as he speaks.
I back slowly away from him. The thought of his body bearing down on my own – his aseptic stench smothering me – steals my breath, and I gasp.
‘And if I refuse?’ I ask, barely containing the hysteria I feel building in my chest.
‘We remap you,’ he says with an edge in his voice, ‘and then you marry me.’
I cross my arms over my chest, clutching my shoulders, and shake my head. ‘I’ll do anything you want except that,’ I beg, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. ‘I’ll be Creweler. I’ll be good.’
‘I’d hoped you would see reason,’ he snarls, moving toward me. ‘I would have preferred a wife with some spirit, but I’ll remap you and marry you next week if I choose to.’
He’s shaking me now, but I can only sob. ‘Please. Please. Please.’
My pleas are breathless, lost in his gruff attack.
‘Did you think,’ he says, his voice full of disdain, ‘we would let you run wild, screwing around with the servants and playing dress-up? Arras demands your service, Adelice.’
I wrench my arms free and fly from the room. Cormac doesn’t follow me. He’ll find me eventually; he knows there’s no need to exert extra effort now. Scrambling into the stairwell, where I’m protected from the view of security monitors, I tear at time and weave myself into safety. When I’m sure the moment is secure, I collapse onto the cold, hard landing and stare at the hourglass my father burned onto my wrist. How can I remember who I am if they’re determined to take it from me?
I’m out of time. Even if I can break out of the compound, Cormac will hunt me down. I think of Loricel’s resignation to her impending death, and for the first time I truly understand the relief she must feel. I wish I were dead.
I stay there, trapped in my own web, unable to move. There’s only one person powerful enough to help me now, but even she has nowhere to run.
I go to her anyway.
21
