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“I’ll explain it all on our way,” he says as we exit the building and a man opens the door of an SUV with tinted windows. I climb into the back seat, and Caius follows. The door closes, and the soldier settles into the passenger seat as the man who opened the door for us takes the driver’s side.
“Explain what?” I ask Caius, who makes a point of dragging my seatbelt across my chest in a move that feels much more oppressive, much more foreboding, than it should.
“Safety first,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. He puts on his seatbelt too.
“Explain what?” I ask more loudly, really panicking now.
“Turns out you won’t be attending the local art school after all. You’ll be happy to know I’ve found a small, but highly regarded school down in Georgia, in Savannah in fact. Very pretty city. Have you been?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ll assume that’s a no?”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
Again, he sighs, then leans his head against the headrest and studies me. “Like I said, my brother feels very protective of you. I can guess why, but not sure I agree with his methods. Regardless, I will do what he wants. Like Val, I’m loyal to my brother too.” There’s a momentary curling of the lip, but it’s gone so fast I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it. “You’ll attend the school in Georgia for the next two years, after which the wedding will take place and you’ll come back to Avarice as Santos Augustine’s wife. My sister-in-law.” He sets his hand on his chin like he’s thinking. “Too soon to call you sis?” The last part is said with a questioning look.
I’m struck mute for a moment.
“But… What about my brother?” There’s no one else to ask about. I don’t have friends. I don’t care about my father. But Odin?
“You’ll have to discuss visitation with Santos.”
“Visitation? What am I, a prisoner?” It was meant as a joke, but my voice quavers.
He just looks at me like I’m either the stupidest person he ever met, or I’ve just said the most obvious thing in the world, and I exhale.
Because I am exactly that. Because last night, I was locked in that room. Because I still don’t have my phone or any other way to contact Odin or anyone else—not that there is anyone else. They’ll lock me away for the next two years until I marry Santos Augustine, then I’ll be a prisoner in a different house.
“You can’t do this,” I say, my voice quiet, as we turn onto our street.
Caius types out a text, his attention on his phone, not on me when he speaks. “We can. We are,” he says, and looks at me just as the car comes to a stop. “You’ll find when you’re an Augustine, you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, to whomever you want.” His words sound ugly, his expression uglier.
He climbs out of the car when his door is opened, then comes to my side to open my door. He takes my arm in a grip a little harder than it needs to be.
Once I’m out, he smiles his cool smile. “Lucky for you, you’ll soon be an Augustine.”
