Neliem, page 3
I attempt some distance and press my back against the side of the carriage, as far as I can be from this Untouchable. But it’s impossible. Ezra, his arm against mine, draws closer until his warmth presses against my flesh.
I loosen my collar and form a plan, a means of escape. There’s a door and two windows, but one window’s barred, the other too small for a skinny girl to wiggle out. Outside, the driver whips the horses and the carriage picks up speed.
My skin prickles, the tingle spreading. He’s too close, and I have no intention of throwing myself out of the carriage. I steady my breathing, attempting to appear relaxed, but it’s harder than I imagined. There are too many people in this confounded carriage, and I can’t quiet my nerves. I glare directly at the other boys. Cousins. They seem to resemble him, but don’t have the soft blue eyes. Their eyes are harsher, darker, harder to read. But if I’m forced to endure their company, I might as well figure out my enemies’ weaknesses. Their faces are tense, and perfect beads of sweat form on their fine clothes. Nervous, yes. Scared? No.
The boy with Tanya isn’t pressing against her—he occupies the seat directly in front of her. I think he’s the one that had to be pushed to make his choice. The smile has left his face, as if his mistake has suddenly dawned on him. Maybe he isn’t as dim as I thought.
The other cousin is named Henric. The girl in pink, who might’ve been the one who tripped me, hasn’t stopped singing out his name. Unashamed, he ignores her and stares right at me. His look is neither warm nor inviting. Henric’s steady gaze wanders up and down me like I’m some animal on display and he hasn’t decided if I bite.
I clench my teeth tighter, and he flinches.
The leaner boy, closer to the barred window, clears his throat as if he might know me. I notice that his ear has a cut and fading bruises mar both his knuckles. That’s when I see a gold pinkie ring with an “M” elaborately etched above the Prince’s insignia. All three boys have the same one.
From my studies at school, I know the significance. The mark of the loyal families who stood by Prince Philippe, the last of his line, during the time of civil unrest. Escaping a coup, the prince fled the capital by hiding under a hay barrel. His second cousin was bent on destroying anyone bearing the Hugganoff name. Only a few noble families in the southern city of Playa Del Sol offered support, rounding up those who wanted an end to tyranny. Allowing, for the first time, for my people to not be butchered. I push away any thought that these boys are anything like their fathers.
The girl with the pink dress fusses over Henric, attempting to wipe some of the sweat off his brow. Instinctively he nudges away, averting her touch. “Henric, will we eat now or later?”
“Later,” he huffs before returning to ignoring her.
I study him, knowing his not-so-subtle secret. Not that he’s definitely the better-looking one of the three, but that something lies in wait under the surface. Just like me. The intensity of his stare penetrates me once more, but I stare back, unaffected. If anything, I’m amused.
Tanya’s fingers tighten and release too many times to count. I’m still not sure what she feels for her mate, if anything. He’s the one who seems to recognize me, but from where, I have no idea.
When Tanya’s not playing with her fingers, she keeps pressing her hand over her skirt, smoothing the fabric as if attempting to shield her skin from catching a glimpse of sunlight. The carriage jolts, abruptly stopping in the Untouchable part of town. I’ve never once been. The distinct fragrance of rosemary and jasmine assaults my senses as the carriage door flings open and a chubby woman wearing a red apron comes rushing out of a home, her arms open.
Behind her, I gawk at the house. It’s beautiful, with a perfectly manicured garden bursting with countless flowers. Tanya’s betrothed helps her and gives me a sly wink. I stifle a gasp and stare at Ezra, realizing that we’re all expected to come out for the ceremony.
He gives me an apologetic nod, almost as if he realizes I find his traditions barbaric. I scan the house suspiciously, not wanting to take a step anywhere near it.
I fully understand what this is.
An Untouchable ceremony, and therefore, a pagan ceremony full of demons and sorcery and all forms of debauchery.
As an Outcast, I am forbidden from having anything to do with it. Carefully, I take one step out of the carriage, my mind calculating how best to escape. I cannot be far from my home and could run, dash away.
Sensing my unease, Ezra lingers at my side. “It’s nothing more than a simple bonding ritual.” Then, he lowers his voice so that I strain my ears to hear. “No blood-letting.”
His soft hand grazes mine for the briefest moment, calming my nerves enough that I don’t go racing for my life. I hesitate, eyeing the house apprehensively. It seems innocent enough, with bright orange shutters and a roof that’s never known a leak. Also, it’s disturbingly big, probably several rooms, and I bet Tanya’s never once had to clean any of them. I register the neighboring homes. They resemble each other with only an exception of larger or smaller front gardens, yellow or red roses—nothing more to distinguish them apart.
The woman bows and greets us, “Thank you for this honor.”
The glint in her eye catches my attention, and I step back, bumping into Ezra. Henric and the others briskly pass, accepting the invitation without so much as a nod.
“Oriana?” Ezra lowers his head and whispers, his eyebrows arched. “It’s all right to be scared.”
I am two steps away from slapping his handsome face and kicking him to the ground.
“I’m not scared,” I scoff, jerking my shoulder and hiding the truth. I would gladly throw myself over a dozen jagged cliffs before facing whatever is inside of this Untouchable home crawling with ancestral ghosts. Scanning the pavement, I search for a weapon that can be easily hidden and used when the opportunity arises. My prayer is answered in the form of a bent, rusty nail on the ground. Without drawing any attention, I scoop down and hide it in my palm before tucking it away in my pocket.
Ezra attentively hovers over me, his minty freshness distracting. Pretending to adjust my skirt, I scurry past him.
But it’s no use. He stands protectively over me, whether shielding me from some ensuing attack or just being overly familiar, I can’t figure out. A tingle spreads where his breath flutters across my neck.
“I think I’m supposed to be there,” I murmur, an unfamiliar emotion threatening to surface. The girl who would sooner kick me out of the house catches a look from Ezra before moving aside.
Ezra nods and reluctantly moves. Before I turn to go, he pauses to place a lock of my undone hair behind my ear. It’s something that I’ve done for Etta hundreds of times, but this feels different somehow. More intimate. Without waiting for permission, I follow the blond girl to the open room and the door slams shut behind me.
The window closest to me is barred, and for a moment, I think I’ve been caged. First the carriage, now here.
The room is so beautiful that I almost forget to count the exits. Fifteen paces to the closet, ten to the window, fourteen to a door that most likely leads to the bathroom, which means indoor plumbing which means money. Dozens of dolls with perfectly curled hair outline one wall, their glass eyes following my every move. But not one ghost lingers about.
Strange.
There are no sharp edges or anything that I can use as a better weapon except for three sharpened pencils on her desk. The pencils would be too difficult to conceal, leaving me with the rusty nail.
Every inch of this room sparkles in shades of pink and lush cream colors. The richest fabrics adorn her bed and windows and the rug by the side of her bed is so thick that for a moment I wish to kick off my shoes and rub my feet against it. I’m so entranced that I barely notice when the girl with sad eyes stumbles against her bed and lets out a heartfelt sob.
The blond girl crosses her hands impatiently. “Stop the theatrics, Tanya.”
The girl’s face is drenched in tears as she whimpers, “Don’t look at me like that Cassia, you’re the only one who wanted this …”
Tanya sobs so forcibly that I find myself looking for a handkerchief. I open a drawer and find a dainty one, with five others perfectly ironed with her initials, T. S., underneath.
“What are you bawling about? He’s handsome and rich. You act as if some fisherman’s son bonded with you, not a rich man’s only son.”
Realizing that I’m still in the room, Cassia stops complaining and darts a hot look that speaks volumes. Without Ezra at my side, she allows the full extent of her scorn to surface. Little does she know that in half a breath, I could have her on her knees begging for mercy if I so choose.
Tanya moans, “I don’t love him … I don’t love him …”
Cassia, unimpressed, huffs, “It’s done, Tanya. He offered, and you accepted.”
“I would have been beaten if I hadn’t.” Tanya eyes the door cautiously. “My family suspected I wouldn’t and locked me in last night. Screaming at me about duty and honor … and …” She gulps down a hiccup, then grunts, “No dinner was served, just broth.”
It’s nice to know that Untouchable girls are also beaten and go to bed without supper. I’d always wondered. And, true enough, what she says is accurate. Even I couldn’t help but notice the barred window and the lock outside the door.
Tanya finally acknowledges that I’m in the room when I press the handkerchief to her side. “Orsis?”
I correct her, “Oriana.”
She smiles and pats her bed, inviting me to sit closer. “That’s right.”
I’m already in the perfect spot, my back to the wall to allow easy access to the door and so I’m not taken by surprise. But hesitantly, I shift closer on the bed. I finger the nail in my pocket, wondering if I could excuse myself and sneak out another window.
Cassia, becoming increasingly agitated, huffs, “Dry your face and pinch your cheeks or maybe he’ll change his mind. He’s the best looking of the three …”
I raise an eyebrow, almost wanting to object. Henric’s definitely the better looking. Then I think of Ezra’s gentle eyes. The ones that remind me of the sky. A sharp knock on the door quickly commands our attention.
“That will be Landis, act the part …” Cassia pinches her cheeks for good measure. “There, all better. We’re all ready.”
Cassia sings the last part out like a lark awaiting her lover. I wince a bit. This is nothing more than a stupid game. The door creaks open and Landis stands at the threshold, gawking at the three of us. I might be imagining it, but his gaze seems to linger on me the longest before shifting to Tanya. Some of the tension has left his face, but his eyes hold apprehension. He definitely suspects more than he’s willing to say. It reminds me of standing at the ledge of the cliff, debating diving or staying put and taking my punishment.
Landis braces his stance, the crease never leaving his forehead. “Tanya, you can change your mind. My own mother changed her mind twice before wedding my father.”
Playing the part better than I thought she could, Tanya gets up, her face a perfect mask of unspoken joy. “And deny myself the happiest day of my life?”
Landis’s shoulders relax, but he’s not what holds my attention. Standing off to the side, Ezra’s eyes are blazing hot coals into mine. It’s nothing like the brutes who wished to assault me. This look is unlike any I have ever experienced. It’s deep and powerful, like unspoken thoughts too personal to utter out loud. Without thinking, I tug my collar higher up my neck, my cheeks burning.
I shake the sensation off, unsettled enough to make my way out of the room, trying not to run, trying not to count, just trying to appear normal. Just as I scurry past him, Ezra catches my waist, those warm, perfect hands pulling me closer. His nose barely brushes against my braid, his finger traces a pattern of something I can’t place on my shoulder. “Oriana.”
My eyes close and I think of summer. A meadow covered in daisies. The wind sweeping through my hair.
His hold loosens, but I don’t move. A thought tickles at the back of my mind. The image of butterflies fluttering aimlessly in glass containers. And my eagle, my beautiful, perfect eagle, flying away, never to return.
I snap my shoulders back and turn to face him when we’re interrupted by Tanya’s mother. She places a garland on her daughter’s head and murmurs some words too soft to hear.
In front of us a fire pot burns, and a sweet, sickly stench fills the room.
I suppose it’s the mating ritual where they tear off their clothing and bow down to one of their false gods before plunging a dagger into their hearts. When that doesn’t happen, I peer closer, curiosity getting the better of me. Landis and Tanya pour water over the flame at the same time. It fumes then sizzles, sending a wave of gray smoke in the air. It smells like cinnamon and burnt paper. They bow three times, and the smoke darkens, forming an image on the white wall.
I step closer.
Tanya’s mother clasps her hands, her knuckles shockingly white as the image takes shape.
“It’s a ring, a ring … the sign of a happy marriage.” The woman stresses the word happy emphatically before she whirls around like a child. I stand transfixed, staring at the image that no longer looks anything like a ring. It’s oval and has a tail that snakes to its side.
Mesmerized, I puzzle out the image.
Generously, Tanya’s mother offers some refreshments that Ezra refuses with a shake of his head. He stares intently at the image as Henric leans closer and whispers, “Two weeks.”
Noticing me, Ezra nudges Henric away as Tanya, now transformed into the perfect bride, chats away with Cassia and Landis like this was all her idea. But I couldn’t care less what they’re gossiping about. Ezra shifts his stance, his feet restless. I know the feeling too well. The urge for speed and flight, like racing a kite the first day of fall.
His intent gaze locks on the not-too-happy couple with a look that could be confused with revulsion, the space between his brows pinching tight.
He’s upset. I can’t help but glance down at my old dress and wonder if he’s having second thoughts. Then I think, of course, he’s having not only second but third thoughts. Frowning, I try to distract myself with the idea that I don’t care either way. The truth sears hot in my chest, disturbed by the notion that I’ve disappointed him somehow. Neliem in me shouldn’t care in the least. It should relish his rejection as yet another sign of our incompatibility. But for some, unexplainable reason, part of me does.
Through the wide-open window before us, a gentle breeze lifts into the room, upsetting some papers on the table. Ezra’s long blond hair sways like feathers, and I think of my eagle soaring majestically in the endless sky. If my face had been tilted just a fraction to the right, I would have seen it, seen how Ezra seems familiar. For a moment, the urge to reach out and run my fingers through his hair overtakes me. Outcast hair is thicker, curlier, and sometimes so coarse that I’ve broken my share of combs trying to tame Etta’s wild mane. But Ezra’s hair seems silky soft, smooth as a feather and as delicate as rose petals.
My fingers twitch.
Catching me off guard, Ezra asks, “Are you thirsty?”
Without hesitating, he offers me a full glass. A wave of tension rolls down my body, knowing what it is.
Sacrificial blood.
Ezra arches a knowing eyebrow as if I’m the one being foolish and takes a sip. Reluctantly, I smell it before bringing it to my lips.
Water. I drink it down greedily in one gulp.
The corners of his mouth lifting, he motions to the ceremony. I watch skeptically. I have just accepted an Untouchable’s bond and find myself in the part of town I’ve been curious to enter for most of my life. And yet, other than Cassia’s blatant hostility, no one has tried to harm me.
Not even Tanya’s mother, who stinks of some herb I can’t place. Ezra’s face searches mine for some sign of what I might be thinking. “The ritual opens the bond, but it’s not for two weeks that it’s sealed.”
It seems barbaric. I glance quickly at Landis, then at Tanya, who’s showing everyone the image on the wall, commenting on the size. “Aren’t they wed?”
Ezra smiles, then whispers, “No.”
“Then why do it?”
“It’s how we do things. I suppose the time is allotted to make sure that it’s a good match.”
“What happens if it isn’t?”
“He can send her back at any time during this sealing period.”
“Oh.” So, I might be home in two weeks, and this could be nothing more than a bad memory.
He stops staring at the oval that’s starting to fade and looks me up and down, sending a quiver to my gut.
“But don’t worry.” The tip of his finger traces the lace on my sleeve, making my skin hot. “Ours is different. We’re skipping this part and making it official. No give backs.”
I blink, confused.
He explains, “You won’t be returning home in two weeks or two years or twenty-two …”
What was meant to reassure me makes all the blood drain from my face.
“Oriana?” His voice is smooth like rich velvet, but I don’t trust it.
And regardless of how his hair might feel, I tighten my grip on the nail. “I said I’m fine.”
The only door within reach is unfortunately blocked by a table loaded with enough food to feed fifty of my people. The stench of incense tightens in my head like a vise, causing my temples to throb. It’s all too much. I open my mouth to scream, to tell these people what I really think of them, how much I hate them and their stupid ceremonies and how I pray every night for their pagan gods to wage war and annihilate all of them.
As if somehow aware of the volcano that’s about to explode, Ezra lifts my hand and raises his voice. “We go to Oriana’s home next.”
