Page 7 of Degradation
I turn to face her, the sunlight casting a warm glow on her features, softening the lines that time and worry have etched. “But what if it’s the wrong step? What if our Grand Master punishes us for this, punishes me?”
My mother’s smile is gentle, indulgent even, as if she’s humouring a child afraid of the dark. “It’s not the wrong step because God himself is putting this path before you. Why would our Grand Master disagree with God, when he is his mouthpiece?”
I want to believe her, to soak up her words like the parched earth drinks the rain. “So, I won’t go to Oblivion then?”
She waves her hand, dismissing my concerns like they’re mere flies to be shooed away. “Don’t be silly, Paitlyn, no one’s been sent to Oblivion for something as trivial as this. And you’re a Founder, remember, you can do as you please.”
Trivial. The word tastes bitter on my tongue. How can something that feels so monumental, so life-altering, be classed as trivial? I turn back to the window, staring out at the gardens. “But what if I want more? What if I want love, not just security? What if I want to choose, not just be chosen?”
My mother’s sigh is heavy, a sound that carries the weight of tradition and expectation. “Paitlyn,” She says gently, lovingly. “We’ve talked about this before. We don’t always get to chooseour path in life. Sometimes, it’s chosen for us. And it’s our duty to walk it with grace and dignity.”
Her words spark a memory, a conversation I had with my father when he was on his deathbed. He told me that duty was like a road, one that we must follow even if it’s strewn with sharp stones. But he also said that the best roads were the ones we paved ourselves. I cling to that thought, that small ember of defiance in the face of my mother’s resigned acceptance.
“And what of my father?” I ask, turning to face her again. “Would he want this for me? Would he want me to marry someone, despite it being against the rules?”
My mother’s expression softens, her eyes glistening with what looks like unshed tears. “Your father always wanted what was best for you, Paitlyn. And sometimes, what’s best isn’t what’s easiest. He understood the importance of duty, of sacrifice.”
Sacrifice. That word hangs in the air like a stark reminder of what’s expected of me. I’m not just sacrificing my freedom, my chance to choose my own path. I’m sacrificing the chance to love, to truly love someone who loves me in return, not just out of duty or obligation.
Oh, I know it’s a foolish thing to think I could ever have the luxury of being in love. People like me, people like us don’t get such things. We’re granted power, riches, things ordinarily people could only dream of, and in return we accept that notions such as love are as unattainable as dancing on the moon.
“What if he decides he doesn’t want me?” The words are out before I can stop them, a whispered rebellion against the inevitability that my mother presents.
I hear her sharp intake of breath. Her face betrays her for the minutest of seconds before she fixes that smile back on it.
“Why would he ever do that?” She asks. “You’re the most accomplished, the prettiest and by far, the greatest prize out of all the Founder girls.”
God, I hope that’s a lie. I hope that’s utter bullshit.
I nod back, giving her a placating smile. It makes no difference at this time anyway, Gunther will decide and all of us ultimately are just pawns in his hand.
Pailtyn
I’m standing in a room with six other girls, all of us from the Founder families and that fact alone makes me more nervous. Did Gunther only invite us then? Did he decide to ignore all the other elite families and go purely for Founder blood? The only family missing here are the Ashers, but they haven’t produced a girl in years.
All of us naked.
The flimsy gowns we were permitted to wear have been tossed at our feet, and we’re on show, standing like statues for the entire Senate to appraise.
We’re in the Great Hall, in the Palace. It’s odd to be in this space, in this inner sanctum. My eyes keep darting to the walls, to the motifs, to all the beautiful artwork and gold that seems to cover every surface. The place is more beautiful than anything I could imagine. If I shut my eyes and tries to conjure up the image of God’s house, it would be like this, it would be this breathtaking, this magnificent.
There’s a little table in front of each of us with our details. Our names, weight, health records, family history, and our pedigree; as if Gunther doesn’t know it all.
I do my best not to shiver, to stay still and silent. If I can hold my nerve, there’s a good chance I’ll get through this entire thing unnoticed and unscathed. After all, the girls beside me are just as beautiful and odds are, he’ll pick someone else.
With each step the Chapter Lord takes, the room seems to grow more tense. Our families are standing opposite us, watching this entire thing play out as if it’s the proudest moment of their lives.
I can see my mother silently wringing her hands with anticipation, and her eyes haven’t once left my body. I can see Pearce too, narrowing his eyes, staring at me in a way that makes me want to cover myself up. No doubt we’ll have a conversation when we’re back at the house about whatever transgressions he thinks I’ve committed.
Gunther takes another step, barely looking at the first girl or the second. The Senate echoed his every move, following him like a bad odour. I’m in the middle, nicely hidden amongst the crowd as it were.
He stops in front of the girl next to me, Tilly, flicking through her paperwork before his eyes fix on her body. She’s a head taller than me, she has a heart shaped face, and fuller breasts. Perhaps it’s just better genetics, or perhaps it’s because I’m the youngest here but I’m also the shortest girl and I’m hoping that plays inmy favour - that I’m ignored. Passed over, that Gunther wants a lithe goddess to stand beside him as his wife.
Gunther tilts his head, murmuring something we can’t hear and then his eyes flicker to me.
In haste, I drop my gaze, but it’s a stupid mistake.
I have no right to look him in the face. No right whatsoever.
