Oh, my God.
This is when his age becomes grossly apparent to me, in the sagging, wrinkled skin of his body, only exacerbating the thoughts that this cannot happen. I cannot let this man, The Shepherd, the supposed conduit between me and God, do this to my body.
He takes a moment to grab a cloth from a golden bowl, and washes his semi-flaccid organ in front of me. As if this brings me any level of comfort for what comes next. An object at the base of his penis resembles a jeweled ring, and when he positions himself over top of me, lifting the hem of my dress away from my naked lower half, a wave of nausea curls up my throat that I have to swallow back.
He tips his head forward, kisses my breast through the fabric, and at the first touch, fight or flight slams through my veins. I squirm beneath him, to wriggle myself free, but his grip tightens, his wild eyebrows coming together in a frown. “Hold still, girl!”
As he takes himself in hand, I look around for something, anything. I reach for an ornate, golden candlestick beside the table, and at the first prod of his tip, I knock the heavy stem against his skull.
Eyes rolling back into his head, he tumbles from the table to the floor with a deadweight thunk.
Chapter 2
“You deliberately attacked a man of the cloth. Then attempted to evade Legion officers. As such, you will be banished to the Sisters of Mercy for a term no less than five years.” As the elder judge reads off my sentencing, I stand with my hands bound, my stomach sinking like a rock in a shallow pond. Beside him, three other clergymen look on with the same severe expressions, ensuring no one would dare grant me leniency.
Nausea gurgles in my chest, and I glance over my shoulder to see my mother sitting beside my brother in a packed courtroom, her attention buried in her lap.
Can’t even look at me.
Not when the Legion officer spins me around to face the scornful cheers of my audience over the tearful cries of my brother.
Not even when I’m shuffled out of the room.
My ribs are so full of misery, I can’t bring myself to breathe, until I’m standing before the truck that will transport me to the convent.
“Thalia! Thalia!”
At shouts from a voice I recognize, I swing my attention toward where Will waves at me from about a hundred yards away, held back by a Legion officer.
Shoving at the soldier is useless, as another approaches to form a gate, refusing his passage. “I’ll wait for you! I swear it!”
The words scratch at my already battered heart, and I offer him a slight smile. Although I’m not in love with him that way, marrying him would be the lesser of two evils—a guilty thought that chokes the air in my lungs.
If I were in ear shot, I’d tell him not to wait for me at all. Not to deny himself the possibility of real love, true love, because five years is a long time to wait for someone whose heart is as untethered as mine. As my best friend, he deserves more. Better. Not to mention, it won’t do well for his reputation to marry the girl who attacked a holy man. Even if I atone for it by then, the stories will survive long after my punishment is served.
At least they didn’t learn I’d already lost my virginity. I can’t even imagine the ridicule Will would face, if they’d found he’s the one who sullied me.
The soldier beside me grips beneath my arm and hoists me up into the truck.
One other girl I recognize from the community, a couple years older, dark-haired with wide brown eyes, sits shackled in the belly of the military vehicle across from me, and we wait. Wait to be transported out of Szolen to a guarded convent that I’ve heard is equivalent to a prison. It’s where Mother Chilson rules the roost, and judging by the way she looked at me when she found the pastor knocked unconscious, I don’t stand a chance at mercy, despite the name of the place.
The Shepherd will live.
Whereas, I’ll be imprisoned for the next five years.
All because I chose not to be violated.
The engine rumbles to life, just as a familiar face swings open the flap on the back of the truck. My father’s most trusted friend and colleague.
“Jack.” The relief carries in my voice, as I sit forward on the bench.
Decked out in the black Legion uniform, he looks like a threat, but he’s acted as a surrogate father in the last few months. It was he who delivered the news that my father had been attacked by a violent Alpha during a raid. He who cradled my mother in his arms when she collapsed upon hearing the news. He who kept our broken family from falling apart these last few months.
“How are you, love?” He steps aside, and my brother climbs into the back of the truck.
“Scared,” I say, as my brother runs headfirst and wraps his arms around me.
“I tried to get the judge to listen to reason, but he’s old and set in his ways. I’m not giving up, though. I want you to know that.”
“Thalia, are you coming back?” Eyes rimmed red, my brother stares up from where he crouches at my feet, and I wish my hands weren’t bound, so I could wrap my arms around him in the assurances I can’t seem to voice right now.
“In five years. You’ll be a Legion cadet by then.” He’ll be eighteen. A man, by the time I see him again. Blinking hard fails to hold back the tears welling in my eyes. “Take care of Momma, okay?”
“I’m going to miss you.” His voice is muffled by his face buried in the crook of my neck.
Jack offers a sympathetic smile, and reaches in to pry Grant away from me. “I’ll see what I can do to reduce your time, Thalia. In the meantime, behave. I can’t help you, if you get on Mother Chilson’s bad side.”
“I think it’s safe to say I’m already on her bad side.”
“Well, do what you must to get on her good side.”
Brows winged up, I try to imagine what the hell it’d take to accomplish such a task. “You’re asking me to kiss ass?”
“Exactly.” Jack tugs the hem of Grant’s shirt, urging him off the back of the truck. “C’mon, son. Unless you want to join her at the convent.”
Grant snaps his attention to me and back to Jack. “Can I?”
“No. C’mon.”
“Take care of him, Jack. Please.”
“You don’t have to ask me to do that, Thalia. You know I will.” As my brother climbs off the back of the truck, Jack rests his hand on Grant’s shoulder.
“My mother?”
“Try to understand, Thalia. This isn’t easy on her.”
“Yes. Of course. She has her reputation to think about. How selfish of me to think about my loss of freedom right now.”
“You know, as well as I do, what this means for her.”
He’s right. She’ll be treated like a leper until I’ve served my time. What have I done?
“Please take care of her, too.”
“You have my word. Take care of yourself. And stay out of trouble.”
“I will.”
With a nod, he lowers the flap, and at a thump on the back of the truck, the vehicle lurches into motion.
Gaze glued to my fidgeting hands, I try to imagine my life from this day forward. The fierce devotion to bible studies. The punishments that I’m certain will be inflicted more frequently than necessary, until I’ve atoned for my actions. The wrath of Mother Chilson.