The lie smeared beneath the immaculacy.
I’m a daughter. Pure and chaste. The pride of my mother, and the ungodly temptation of men. The very thing most girls in Szolen dream about from the time they’re young, and what all parents wish for, the same way they prod their sons into becoming Legion.
“My heart is full, darling.” That pride in my mother’s voice slices through my thoughts of what’s to come, and she sets her hand on my shoulders, planting a kiss atop my head. “You’re a stunning vision of virtue and devotion.”
Frowning is all I can do to keep from crying and ruining the mascara she’s insisted I wear.
In an hour, my dress is expected to be spattered with the blood of my virtue, and all will rejoice at the sight of it.
Three of us will take our vows during the ordination, but not before we’re deemed worthy of our charge.
“Come now. They’re waiting.” The glint in my mother’s eyes is a stab to my heart.
I could tell her I don’t want to do this. That I reject this barbaric ceremony and everything it stands for, but doing so would make me an enemy of this community. My mother and brother would be ostracized, and our family name marred. Besides that, it’s been months since my mother has smiled, and as much as she disappoints me, I can’t bear to do the same to her. The untimely death of my father cast a cloud of misery over our home, one so thick, I can hardly breathe sometimes. This ordination is all she’s talked about since. Maybe the only thing that’s kept her alive.
By now, I should’ve been well into my studies, advancing my station in this community as the only female physician. It’s a dream I’ve held since I was old enough to accompany my beloved Nan on my father’s side, who died much too soon, on house calls. She was a nurse and midwife, the most skilled in Szolen, and I longed to follow in her footsteps, but those plans were cast aside, the day Mother Chilson, the head nun of our church, showed up at our door.
“What if I don’t bleed, Mother? Not every girl does, you know.”
Cold, wrinkled fingertips slide along the gold chain, as my mother offers a lesser smile than before. “The virtuous ones do.”
At her nudge on my arm, I push up from the vanity chair, the air in my chest waning, my hands trembling. I’ve no idea what to expect from the ordination, because no one is permitted to speak of it, and doing so would result in punishment. The long white dress, made of sheer fabric, lace and satin ribbons, will serve as an indicator, a sort of litmus test, for whether I’ll be deemed worthy, or not, when I’m penetrated by the priest. If it carries the blood of my virginity, I’ll be celebrated as pure. If it doesn’t, I’ll be seen as sullied, and treated as a whore for the rest of my life.
All the young girls in the community go through the painstaking effort of saving themselves for this moment, because being a Daughter of the church is as prestigious as the decorations my father received with every advancement in the Legion military. In five years, when my service is complete, I’ll live in a high-born house, the most luxurious Szolen has to offer, with any husband I choose. Every male will long to be with a dutiful Daughter.
My mother will be respected and praised for her genetics.
After all, ugly girls aren’t chosen by God.
“Does he use his fingers, or his cock?” I ask, following her out of the room and down the winding staircase.
“Thalia!” Pausing her descent, my mother twists around, fingers curled around the bannister so tight that her knuckles are white. She probably wishes my throat were beneath that palm. “Mind your tongue.”
Months ago, she wouldn’t have been troubled by my forked tongue, as she often calls it now, but as a mother of the Chosen, she seems to feel the need to stifle everything she deems unholy.
A few more steps down, I shrug. “I just want to know if it’ll hurt, is all. I imagine his finger is the thicker of the two.”
“Enough! Your snarky little remarks are no longer permitted. The moment we reach that church, you are to become a pillar of virtue and grace. Is that clear?”
“So, I have until then to speak my mind?”
“No. I’ve no interest in hearing your protests, nor your sarcastic taunts. You will become a Daughter and that is the end of it. Keep your mouth shut.”
“I’m twenty years old, Mother. Well beyond the need for your admonishing.”
Eyes narrowed, she twists around to face me. “Your father would be appalled, if he heard you right now.”
My father happened to appreciate my humor and snarky mouth, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I lift the hem of my dress, roll my shoulders back, and continue my descent until I’m beside her. “He would’ve been appalled with you too,” I say, and step past her to the foyer.
Outside the front entrance, the chattering of the gathering crowd sends a flare of anxiety through my already frayed nerves. The wait for my mother seems to take an eternity, and I turn just enough to see her wiping moisture from her cheeks, as she makes her way toward me. With one hand on the knob, she takes a breath and throws back the door, her face flicking from grief to feigned pride, like the flip of a switch.
This is her moment. One she’s hoped for since the day I was born. One that’s goaded her to guard my virtue like a buried treasure.
The chatter dies to a deafening quiet, and she steps aside, ushering me forward.
Members of the community form two lines from our doorstep to the road, and also down the block, to the church at the end of the street. Other lines converge on the street, too, where the other two candidates also make their way along this iniquitous path. The flicker of candles burn against the night sky, as they sing a hymn in unison, filling the air with a solemn calm. As I walk past, each of them bow in a show of respect.
My brother, Grant, is among them, offering a more sympathetic smile. Somehow, the thought of him being here for this is wrong.
It’s all wrong.
The urge to crawl out of my skin, to kick off these shoes and run into the darkness, beckons my muscles. I search for Will in the throng, the boy I’ve known since the age of ten and my best friend, but find him nowhere.
Of course, he wouldn’t be here. In spite of how he’s supposed to feel about this, I know it troubles him, perhaps even more than it does me. We made a vow to marry someday, if neither of us are already taken, but now the church has staked his claim to me. Much as I have no interest in marrying him, at all, it would’ve been a better alternative to this. Not that it matters at this point. The moment he learned I’ve been chosen, he went against his own beliefs and recruited himself as a Legion soldier.
Grief makes people do crazy things, and his shackled him to four years in the military.
For years, recruiters have hounded him to join, and in his refusal, his family turned against him. I’m certain they’ve since opened their arms to him and praise my name as the reason for his sudden change of heart.
While I remain here, performing my duties, he’ll be off fighting marauders and Ragers in the name of Szolen.
What a beautiful couple we’d make in the eyes of this community--the brave son and vestal Daughter.
Except, I’ll be far from chaste.
For the next five years, I’ll be tasked with building the community, by sleeping with a number of men, whether married, or not. As far as the church is concerned, it won’t be considered adultery because of the mission behind it. A cause for the greater good of humankind. When I’m not screwing members of my community, I’ll be sent on Missions beyond the wall, to recruit only the healthiest men from hives, particularly those with useful skills. I’ll be touted as a perk of Szolen, a prize for their loyalty.