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“What’s your real name?” I ask.
No answer.
She comes around in front of me and runs a bath in a big clawfoot tub at the other side of the room, not once meeting my eyes. Two stares right at the running water, her body wrapped in nothing more than what looks like a white sheet. My guilt only deepens when I realize what she’s wearing around her neck. At first, I thought it was a necklace, but now I see that it’s made of a thin band of leather, a silver loop around one side.
It’s a collar.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
She still doesn’t respond.
I shimmy out of my jeans and my sweater, tossing them in a pile by the door as I bid my old life goodbye. I don’t think I’ll see those clothes again—not even the pink sweater I scrounged up in an old department store, one of my favorite pieces. I gaze at it for just a second and allow myself to think of Austin…then I step toward the bath.
At least for now, I need to forget about my pack.
Focus on surviving now.
Two helps me into the bath, which is blissfully warm and filled with soap. I sink into the water, letting it rise up to my nose and blowing out a breath. To my surprise, Two reaches out and pulls me up slightly, her eyes wide.
“Don’t inhale the water,” she says. “We can’t…it isn’t safe…”
I take her hand. “It’s okay,” I say. “I’m just trying to get clean.”
“We almost lost someone that way,” she replies. Her voice is still raspy, like she’s struggling to breathe.
Lost someone that way?
“I’m not trying to hurt myself,” I assure her. “Don’t worry about me.”
When there’s no other escape, I guess my father’s wives are willing to resort to all necessary measures.
I dip my head back in the water and scrub myself clean, wishing I could scrub out my memories of the past two days—of doing this at all. If I had just stayed closer to the den, kept myself more secure, none of this would be happening. I would be back at home in the bathing pool with Charlotte and Akari and Soledad, sitting at the breakfast table with Mateo and Grant, taking stock with Will and listening to him talk about poetry…
I would be safe.
I bend my head and cry into the water, but just for a second. I don’t want Two to worry.
Two—the girl who isn’t even allowed to have a name.
Once I’m done, she holds out a towel for me as I step out. I could do it myself, but she seems intent on taking care of everything—maybe because Ephraim told her to keep an eye on me. It’s not like there’s anywhere to escape in this windowless room, and I’m not going to hurt Two to get away. I take the towel from her and towel off my hair before wrapping it around myself, waiting for more instructions.
She picks up a garment from a chair beside the tub, then holds it out to me.
“You’re to wear this,” she says.
I take it and frown, examining the piece of turquoise cloth. It’s barely more than a slip of fabric—not enough to cover my curves, for sure. I look from Two to the dress, needing more explanation.
“You wrap it,” she says, “like this.”
She takes the cloth and gestures at my towel, and I let it fall to the ground with a blush. I feel like a child with my mother dressing me, my face flushed scarlet from my inability to take care of myself. Two drapes the fabric over my shoulder, then ties it with a thread at my waist and another at my right thigh. It leaves gaping holes all over my body, revealing pale skin covered in freckles. I reach for the towel again, but Two shakes her head and stops me.
“No use,” she says. “You’re to wear this tonight—for the ceremony.”
“The ceremony?” I ask. “Please—tell me what my father plans to do with me. I have to know.”
“Your father…”
Two trails off, chewing on her lip. She takes my hand a moment later, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I can’t,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
