He addresses his cousins formally, all but ignoring the gawks and stares that burrow into every inch of my flesh. Tanya’s mother tenses, her neck resembling a plucked chicken’s, but she swallows back the complaint. Softening her voice to a dull rasp, she whispers, “But, I thought …”

  The woman stares at the feast she’s prepared.

  Dismissively, Ezra waves his hand. “The food will be distributed to the poor. Arrangements have already been made.”

  This means my people will eat tonight.

  Cassia’s face falls, the contempt she holds for me more palpable than ever. But she masks it with a sweet smile that pinches her cheeks. And I know why. By placing my ceremony before hers, she’s been slighted. Her voice scratches like fingernails on a blackboard, “Must we, Henric, my darling?”

  But Henric doesn’t bother to acknowledge her. His gaze is locked on Ezra. It’s as if the two are speaking without words. I watch, mesmerized by the power play, which Henric concedes silently with a stiff nod. Cassia, furious, stomps her feet like some spoiled brat. In one fluid motion, Henric grabs her arm and pulls her back to the corner of the room, out of earshot.

  An image of the horseman galloping into town to select some wayward female before riding off brings a smile to my lips. I can’t help but wonder if he rode back to toss her aside when he was through. These Hugganoffs truly are savages. My people, although poor and feeble, celebrate a wedding feast for three entire days and there’s none of this trial sealing for two weeks to see if it’s a fit. It’s all or nothing.

  Ezra catches my smile. “Something amusing?”

  “Thinking of the horseman mating ritual.” Then, sweetly, “Your people are spur of the moment.”

  He stops mid-stride to drink me in. “Not all of us. Some of us know exactly what we want and always have.”

  Startled, I wipe the sweat off my palms, glad for the first time that I have a mother who troubled herself to make sure I looked presentable today, even though it’s just a hand-me-down dress and shoes without holes. The thought of my mother and what this news will do to her is almost too much to bear. I feel queasy just imagining her face.

  I force my feet to move when Henric opens the door, allowing a loud burst of wind to sweep into the house. For the first time, he’s not scrutinizing me like I’m some animal on display. His attention is on the back wall. Instinctively, I turn to catch one last glimpse of the fading smoke ring. Unexpectedly, the pot boils over, splashing drops of glistening red tea against it. I gasp, holding my throat as I finally realize what the image is.

  It’s a noose.

  A noose with blood splattered against it.

  My knees weaken. Holding me against his chest, Ezra steadies me before helping me inside the carriage. The driver slams the door, and we’re off.

  If he were anyone else, I would collapse against him. Only pride prevents me from making a fool of myself. Instead, I lean against the carriage cushions, still in shock. Closing my eyes for a second, I force myself to keep a clear head.

  Back in the Outcast part of town, with dirt roads and shanty homes falling apart, small children play in the mud and stray cats meander up and down the street. Here, I don’t have to contemplate the meaning of pagan ceremonies or the faded image of a noose with blood. Shame washes over me. I don’t want to get out of the carriage and claim these miserable people as my own. Cassia grimaces, covering her mouth with a dainty handkerchief as if the very air’s contaminated.

  My nosy neighbors gather, some peering from doorways of rotten wood with peeling paint, others spying from shuttered windows to gaze at the magnificent carriage that has never once been on this side of town. Even these weathered horses resemble stallions here. I think I spot Etta behind her cracked window, staring, probably wondering what has happened. I wave a bit, trying to convey confidence, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

  Ezra, oblivious to his surroundings, gets out first, offering me his arm. I take it willingly, too stunned to shun him. Somehow, he seems unaware of the slum he has driven into, as well as of the unfriendly gawks and stares of half-starved people that seem to burn holes in all his finery.

  Behind me, Tanya wrinkles her nose. Irritatingly, she makes even that look adorable and ladylike. The anxiety builds with every step I take, my miserable life flaring before my eyes. I am poor. Poorer than my neighbors. We rent a small shack that is in desperate need of a new roof. My mother sews to earn her keep, and when those jobs are scarce, she’s reduced to washing laundry for Untouchables. I have no memory of my father, just scattered images of a warm smile and bright eyes. I wish I lived in one of the better homes, or by the sea—anywhere but here. The weight of everything wrong with me pounding in my heart, I step up to the broken gate, which Ezra holds as gracefully for me as if it were etched in gold.

  Before I can offer up some excuse, he speaks. “Thank you for inviting us into your home.”

  For a moment, I think he’s joking, but his eyes hold pure skylight. It nearly breaks me. Here he is, when he could be anywhere. The thought makes me shake for an entirely different reason. Tears swelling behind my eyes, I prepare to beg him not to allow anyone inside.

  Instead, he gazes thoughtfully toward the sky. “A rainbow. It’s a good sign.”

  I turn, and my jaw drops. Before me is the most beautiful rainbow that I’ve ever witnessed. Every color illuminates clearly, encompassing the entire horizon above the sea.

  Ezra grins that shy, boyish smile and without meaning to, I lean into him. “There shouldn’t be a rainbow, not this time of year, not with the heat …”

  “And yet there is.”

  And for the briefest moment, I believe. I believe in happy endings and butterflies in glass jars and my magnificent eagle returning.

  Of all the possibilities I envisioned happening today, being selected as the bride of a Hugganoff was never one. Perhaps it’s the lingering effect of the rainbow, or the fact that he doesn’t seem disturbed by the gutter I live in. It pushes me to hold my head up a little bit higher and follow him inside. Behind me, Tanya’s at my heels, probably trying to avoid my neighbors and escape Landis at the same time.

  Ezra turns abruptly, signaling Henric to approach.

  Henric emerges from the carriage slowly but purposely. He doesn’t make a show of the dried-out garden or the broken fence. He could be in the middle of an oasis the way he stands tall and proud. I have no doubt that there isn’t a thing that this man does unintentionally. “She has a … headache.”

  Ezra narrows his eyes toward the carriage. “Then tell her to come out for some fresh air. That is not a request.”

  Henric, not skipping a beat, forcibly retraces his steps and drags Cassia from the carriage. Instead of approaching my home, however, they wait in the garden. Ezra relaxes noticeably before planting a soft knock on the door. It’s so gentle that I’m positive that my mother will never think to open it. But the shuffling footsteps indicate otherwise. Clenching my fists, I brace myself for the hysterics. Perhaps she will disown me, toss me to the streets, tear her clothes and rub ash on her face for a fortnight. Holding my nail, I imagine using it to claw myself out of this mess.

  The door flings open, and my mother finally appears. Her clothing is fresh, not what she was wearing this morning. And her hair’s washed, which means two laborious trips to the well. Worst of all, a table full of refreshments, which we could never afford, signals that she was expecting guests.

  “I was wondering what took you so long.” Her grin broadens, ushering everyone in.

  For the third time today, my mouth drops open, the nail falling out of my hand. Ezra steps inside without hesitating, his eyes curiously taking everything in. The shock of my mother’s reaction has left me weak and confused. My stomach hurts, and my clothes reek of forbidden Untouchable incense. The men enter stiffly as I go at once to my room with Tanya in tow. All her fears seem momentarily wiped away as she stares with big eyes at my sparse room, catching every crack and stain on the wall.

  From the open window, Cassia’s still in the garden, and for the first time today, I’m relieved. Being spared from the embarrassment of at least one Untouchable dissecting my home seems a great thing.

  Grasping the lever, I close the window and steady myself for what lays ahead. Tanya makes herself comfortable by sitting on my bed and playing with an old doll that’s missing both legs. I glance around, noticing that some of my things have been moved.

  Outside my door, laughter erupts as glasses clink. My mother is laughing with pagans, which seems more than odd. She never laughs. Ever.

  I turn to Tanya, trying to determine how big of an enemy she is. She’s pretty, but not alarmingly so, and I don’t have any memory of her taunting or hurting me.

  I test the waters. “There’s been some mistake.”

  She nods, finding an old diary that I quickly tug out of her hands. “I feel the same way.”

  “Is this some sort of joke?” I have to ask, dreading the answer.

  She blinks those hazel eyes, which now seem more green than brown. “Not for him.”

  Her gaze drifts out the window, toward the mountains, which I ache to climb.

  I try again. “I don’t know him.”

  “My grandfather owns spice ships. The Mercers want spices. That’s why I’m here.” She rubs her hands, and then, without asking permission, uses some of my hand salve generously over her hands and arms. “I am too poor to say no.”

  I have to bite back the chortle threatening to erupt. She lives in the largest house I’ve ever stepped foot in, with servants and more luxuries than I have been privy to my entire life. Meanwhile, I wallow here in poverty and would have until the day I died, if it hadn’t been for Ezra.

  “My uncle swore that if I didn’t …” Tanya trembles, her voice breaking as her hand slides up her throat. Without having to guess, I know something sinister was planned for her if she dared refuse. I recall the noose on the wall clearly, wondering what it signifies and unintentionally fingering my own neck. For the first time in my life, a hint of compassion pangs in my heart for this Untouchable girl with sad eyes.

  But I don’t have a moment to lose; I need answers. “Tell me what you know of Ezra. I need to know … I don’t remember him at all.” I try to concentrate, straining to remember a chance encounter that didn’t involve me running for my life. “Perhaps school, the market …”

  I bite the tips of my fingers, desperate for answers, anything to make his intentions clear.

  “He’s nice. Polite. Doesn’t talk a lot. He graduated a year ago … or two …”

  My shoulders drop; it’s what I originally suspected. She’s utterly useless.

  “And?” I don’t bother to hide the edge in my voice.

  “He told his family months ago. Everyone has been trying to talk him out of it.” Glaring at the door, she whispers, “Especially his brother.”

  At the mention of his brother, a spark lights up in her eyes. The green blinding, the brown all but gone. Intrigued, I lean forward. There is definitely more, something she’s not saying. Suddenly bored, Tanya plays with a stray ribbon, frazzling its ends with her nail. She hangs it above her head, catching the light. I feel Neliem awakening. “Really?”

  “Don’t worry, Ezra wouldn’t listen to anyone.”

  The hint of compassion I felt earlier for her is completely gone. I hate her. And she has no business in my room touching my things. I yank the ribbon out of her hands, hoping it burns and cuts, leaving a hideous scar that gets infected and needs to be amputated.

  “As well as Landis.” I hope the dig about her mate makes her squirm.

  But she just wiggles onto her belly, her eyes dancing around the room, her mind elsewhere. If she’s even slightly offended, she doesn’t give anything away.

  “You know, I’ve never been in an Outcast’s home. I mean, inside. It’s not what I expected at all. It’s so clean.”

  I want to strike her, then kick her, then tear out every curl from her scalp until she’s bald and bleeding. But the sharp knock startles me. Desperately, I reach for my trusty nail, but it’s gone. Feeling helpless, I stare at the door. It doesn’t even have a lock. I swallow the lump in my throat and scowl. “He doesn’t want to do the two weeks waiting period; he wants to have the real ceremony. Is that allowed, or legal?”

  Her eyes return back to a dull brown. “Does it matter?”

  Another knock, sharper than the first, causes the entire doorway to shake and tells me that my time is up. I somehow manage to get to my feet without pouncing on Tanya.

  Completely unaware of my dark thoughts, she dares to smile. “Oh, and he’s been in love with you since any of us can remember.”

  I stumble, almost twisting my ankle, but manage to open the door without falling. The first thing that assaults me is my mother’s beaming face. I flinch back when Ezra scoots past her and reaches for me. His hands are steady, though a hint of worry creases his forehead.

  “You were in there forever.” His voice is whisper soft, but the panic is as transparent as glass.

  Sensing something amiss, he shifts his gaze at Tanya suspiciously. She dutifully crosses the threshold, taking her place as witness, then double backs and tugs Ezra outside.

  “That’s for later,” she teases, and my stomach drops.

  My mother closes the door firmly, taking time to prolong my humiliation. Her grimace says what her words won’t. I am unsuitable, too plain, too skinny. She motions to the bed, and I sit. My gaze drifts out the window; I’m hoping that my eagle returns to rescue me. When my mother changes my shoes, I realize that I had been wearing my new stockings the entire time.

  My wedding stockings.

  Quickly, she grabs a dress from my wardrobe that wasn’t there this morning. She wiggles off my old dress, shaking it off as if it was nothing more than garbage.

  I am about to call this charade off when she speaks. “You will listen to him.”

  “I’ll do as I like.”

  She stops her fussing and pinches my arm. Hard.

  I jerk back and watch the tender flesh turn spotty red, the mark where her nail caught nearly bleeding.

  A knock rattles the door, nearly shaking it off its hinges. I hear Ezra’s calming voice loud and clear. “Is everything all right?”

  I bite back the scream threatening to rip out of my throat.

  My mother gets to the door first and whispers something about my nerves. She closes the door and pulls the new dress over my head, puffing out the fabric that’s lacking that familiar musky odor. Not old. Not a hand-me-down. A new dress. My first. And it’s my wedding gown.

  Tanya, breathless, enters, forgetting to shut the door. Her eyes widen, her lips stained with wine. “I’ve been sent to help.”

  I blink back the tears and regain my composure.

  Outside the door, the witnesses approach. I stifle a moan, willing my hands not to shake. I think of all the times I averted death. Countless times. Too many to number. And yet, even faced with my mother’s wrath, this I cannot do. I cannot go through with this false ceremony.

  Tanya helps me up, gliding effortlessly as my mother fixes my veil, making sure to cover every inch of my face. They leave to take their places, and my feet are glued to the spot right before the threshold.

  Cassia cackles like a crow from the window. “She’s backed out; I thought as much.”

  Rage pulsating from every muscle in my body, I step outside my room. My mother places a sweet bouquet of morning spring flowers in my hands with a sigh. Costly I think, wondering what else could be in store.

  “You look beautiful,” my mother exclaims, a bit too brightly. She catches Ezra’s stare and pales. I turn to see what he’s gawking at and notice that he’s found the latest mark of her disapproval. Self-consciously, I cover it with my sleeve as she readjusts my veil.

  My mother glances nervously over my shoulder. “He will take care of you.”

  Behind me, the priest fumbles through his book of prayers. He’s probably never presided through one of these in his lifetime; a bond of Untouchable with Outcast.

  When Ezra’s hand reaches for mine, I stare through the veil into his eyes. Soft blue with specks of white. Such an unusual color. I swallow hard and focus. What kind of trap is happening: think Oriana, think. I close my eyes and imagine all probable outcomes.

  One: I race for the door and take my chances. Of course, the new dress doesn’t allow for me to run at full force, and with Henric standing guard outside, something tells me that I won’t get far.

  Two: I leap out a window, and if luck is on my side, I make it to the beach and swim away to safety. Only days later will my body wash to shore. Perhaps the gown might even be salvaged.

  Which leaves my third option: I go along with this sham and take my chances. Like the first leap into the abyss, the skies clear, the waves inviting. All I need to do is push off.

  When I open my eyes, I immediately notice how the entire house seems altered. Cleaner, brighter than normal. The delicate aroma of flowers and expensive food smells like a bit of heaven. An open bottle of wine is at the table, chilled for the celebration. An unheard-of luxury. The obvious unnerves me: Ezra must have paid.

  A small pot of incense burns to the side. But it’s not an Untouchable stench. It’s sweet. Orange blossom. This leaves the culprit responsible for all this facing me. My intended. The food set out has been nibbled on. I can’t help but wonder how my mother prepared all of this when it suddenly dawns on me. She must’ve known for weeks to have carried this out.

  Weeks that my mother had refrained from pinching and slapping me.

  The priest clears his raspy throat and for a second, I’m positive the phlegm will climb up and splatter all over me. Instead, his weathered finger presses on a prayer somehow suitable for this bonding ceremony. His face creases as he murmurs under his breath to Ezra, “Are you sure of this?”

  The realization that my own people think so little of me makes Neliem quiver furiously. A flame ignites in the pit of my gut. But Ezra, his face intent, nods. Not a long, over-exasperated nod, but a short, quick answer, as if it wasn’t even a real question. My heart stirs, my hand warming in his. Behind us, Cassia and Henric stand in the far corner of the house as rigid as statues. Below that fake smile, there is a visible red mark on her arm where Henric must have grabbed her.

 

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