You Are Mine (17 page)

One of his hands rubs my back. I
snuggle closer to him instead of running like I want. He jumps from
me and moves to the other side of the room.

“
I don't have the
antidote. Sit. Don't touch me or come any closer to me.”

My body freezes. This isn't as good as
being in control, but less troublesome than before.

He flicks his dagger on the table next
to the branding items and paces before coming back to me. “Give me
your hand.”

I hold out my hand. He pricks my
finger and sheathes the blade. He holds my finger over the bowl.
There's already some clear liquid in it, but I can't tell if it's
just water or something else. The fluid turns pink and darkens as
my blood flows into it. Once the liquid is a shade lighter than
blood, he heals my finger.

“
Sit back and don't touch
me.”

I sit back in my chair and watch every
move he makes. He grabs the dish of ink and dumps it in. Using a
small spoon, he stirs the mixture. After a minute, he says, “Look
at the ceiling while resting your head on the back of the
chair.”

I don't want to take my eyes from him,
but I can't help but comply.

“
This will
hurt.”

A moment later, he puts a hand on my
shoulder and something pinches my neck, just above my collar bone.
And pricks again and again and again. My branding. I try to wonder
what it will be like instead of thinking of the pain. How will it
be seeing it every time I look in the mirror? I start to enjoy the
distance the tea forced on me and fall more deeply into it. I close
my eyes. At some point the pricks stop and the pain eases. I'm
being lifted to some place warm and comfortable. Everything
fades.

Chapter
Sixteen

L
ight streams into the room. I roll away from it. A breakfast
tray sits on my bedside table. I groan and pull a pillow over my
head. Then I realize I'm still wearing my dress and necklace. I
bounce up, flinging the pillow from me. My hand goes to my neck
where I was cut at the ceremony, then to where the pricks hurt me
last night. My skin feels as smooth as always. My head was so
distant last night, perhaps none of it was real.

Grateful I don't have to pull the cord
that rings for Phyllis, I grab the tray and set it on my lap. A
note waits with my name on it. I ignore it in favor of strawberries
and some pastries. Once my stomach isn't so ravenous, I grab the
note.

Tell Phyllis that
Councilman Stephen won't be rid of me so easily.

~Zade

I lurch to my feet, and the tray falls
to the floor with a crash. I step on a strawberry, squashing it
beneath my foot, as I hurry to the mirror. Just above my right
collar bone is a hollow circle, like a ring, about cherry-sized. A
thin line curving around top, thickening as it bends toward the
bottom. I brush my fingers over it. My brand.

“
Doesn't look like a new
mark. Skin's not red enough.”

I jump and almost scream, but stop the
sound from escaping. Phyllis stands behind me.

“
Don't startle me like
that.”

“
I knocked but you didn't
answer, and it's almost lunch time so I figured you should be
awake. It's plain for an engagement brand.” She sounds more curious
than disdainful like I'm expecting.

I look back in the mirror. Definitely
not as elaborate as some, but he could be saving that for the
wedding.

Phyllis clucks her tongue. “My, you
made a mess this morning.”

Suddenly, I'm aware of the wet, mushed
strawberry beneath my foot. As I peel it off, I notice it left pink
marks across the rug leading to the dropped tray. I hope Phyllis
isn't too upset over the mess. It'll be a pain to clean. I move to
help her, but stop when I remember the tea.

“
The note might as well be
for you. Take it with you when you're done cleaning.”

I grab clean clothing, and leave
without another word, slamming the door. Cynthia should have been
awake hours ago. In fact, I can't believe I slept so late. I pound
on her door with my free hand. A moment later, it opens.

Cynthia takes one look at me and opens
the door wider. Once I'm in, she closes the door and leans against
it. “How was it?”

I throw my clothes on a table and
slump into a chair. “I can't talk about it.”

She eyes my brand, but doesn't mention
it. “Is there anything I can do?”

“
Unless you can get rid of
Phyllis, no.”

“
Phyllis?” She moves to
the chair across from me. “What does she have to do with
it?”

“
If she ever offers you
tea, turn it down. If anyone offers you tea that smells like dirt,
throw it at them.”

“
Are you well,
Serena?”

“
No. It was awful. It made
me not myself. I was far away and couldn't control my actions.
Whatever I was told to do, I did.” I put my hands to my face. “Just
promise me you'll never drink anything that smells like dirt or
that someone says will help when it's your time for
this.”

“
If it makes you feel
better, I promise not to.”

It doesn't matter what she promises.
If someone threatens her, she won't have a choice.

My dress is wrinkled from being slept
in. Part of me doesn't want to take it off, the other part wants it
gone. Mostly, I hope there's no punishment for my wearing it. I
rise and begin unlacing my dress. “Would you help me
change?”

Cynthia stares at me a moment before
saying, “You can unlace your dress? I didn't know we could have
ones like that. Where did you get it?”

“
It's from my engagement
ceremony.”

She throws my change of clothes back
down and comes closer, inspecting it. “That's your engagement
dress?”

“
It is.”

“
But it's not black, and
it's an actual dress.”

“
Rather lovely isn't it?
Crinkled and in need of a good washing now.” I glance down at it.
“Perhaps I should just burn it.”

“
What? No, don't do that.
If you really want to be rid of it, I'll take it for
you.”

I resume unlacing. “Why do you want
it?”

“
Why don't
you?”

Because I can still feel it flapping
in the air while I'm plummeting to the ground. Because the cold
stone of the altar seeped into it. Because my blood might as well
be one with it.

Neither of us says anything as she
helps me into some clean clothes. A bath would feel nice, but I'll
wait to draw one for myself when Phyllis isn't around. I ball up my
red dress and throw it toward the door. Cynthia goes after
it.

“
Just leave it. If you
want it so bad, I'll clean it for you.”

Ignoring me, she picks it up, folds
it, and places it on a side table. Her fingers continue to pick at
it. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but yesterday,
was the Envadi barbaric as it's said they are?”

I adjust my sleeves. “I wish I could
tell you everything. Nothing was as I thought it would be, not even
the Chancellor.”

I take off the necklace, never to wear
another. The Woman's Canon says that a woman who is engaged or
married must never wear jewelery as if we'll somehow use jewels to
gain freedom. If that was the case, I would have used them to fight
against Father long ago. I sigh and slip it into Cynthia's jewelry
box. “Would you like me to do your face paint?”

She hesitates by the door, looking
over my clean face. “Yes, but I'd prefer it on the light
side.”

Once I'm working on her paint, things
feel more natural. Though I've enjoyed having more freedom from it
being caked on, the motions are familiar. Comforting. A few minutes
after I've finished, a knock sounds.

“
Come in,” Cynthia
calls.

A tarnished enters. “The Chancellor
would like to see Serena in his study.”

I swallow and put the brush down.
“Tell him I'll be right there.”

She nods and leaves, closing the door
behind her.

My legs wobble as I stand. This is
ridiculous. I handled the ceremony, I can handle the punishment for
my dress. Why doesn't my body get the message?

Cynthia puts a hand on me. “If he
sends you away, will you come and say goodbye first?”

Her hand looks so small on my arm.
Fragile. “If I can.”

I leave, not daring to look back for
fear of losing control of my emotions. The house is void of
servants. Not a sound can be heard, save for my light tread. When I
arrive at the study, I pause at the door and raise a hand. My arm
shakes. I let it fall to my side. How much worse can he be than
Father? All this time without punishment has left me too weak. I
wanted to find out how barbaric he is. I can do this.

Without further wavering, I
knock.

“
Come in.”

With a steadying breath, I turn the
doorknob.

Chancellor Zade is working at the
desk. “I'm just finishing some business. Shut the door behind
you.”

I enter, closing the door behind me.
This study is different in every way from Father's. There are two
windows instead of one, ending waist high instead of going to the
floor. The Envadi's desk is between them. Couches and chairs litter
the room. Not a bookshelf in sight, though with a whole book room I
doubt he needs more here. I wonder how much of this was Chancellor
Jacob's and how much he brought.

I clasp my hands together and use good
posture. Nothing of my behavior will give him reason to make the
punishment worse. Does he prefer hexes or beatings? I bite my lower
lip. How will it compare to Father's punishments?

After pushing his things aside, he
rises. “Thank you for waiting. I'm not used to having such duties.”
He draws nearer, his muscles evident even beneath his coat. Despite
telling myself I wouldn't show fear, I can't help but retreat to
the wall. “We'll be seeing more of each other. Might as well get
used to it. Would you like some tea?”

A tea set and cakes wait on a table I
didn't notice before. Perhaps poison is his mode of punishment. Or
he wants to force that awful concoction from last night on me. I
shake my head. Not if I can help it.

He shrugs, grabs a cake, and shoves
the whole thing in his mouth. It's harder to be scared of him as he
brushes crumbs from his face and clothes. After shoving another in
his mouth and eating it, he says, “I skipped lunch.”

So, he doesn't like to do his dirty
work on an empty stomach. The cake tray is loaded. I hope he wants
them all. Maybe then he'll be in a better mood. Or too full to be
severe.

Two more cakes are demolished. “You're
not a chatty thing are you?”

Is that good or bad? Am I supposed to
respond? I settle for shaking my head again.

“
Guessed that when you
girls never say anything at dinner. I thought a change of setting
would help. Come in, sit down.”

I ease to a maroon chair and perch on
it. It's harder than I was expecting. Maybe all those years of not
being able to sit in Father's study isn't such a loss. He lounges
across from me. A crumb remains on the corner of his lips. I
concentrate on it.

“
Did you get my note this
morning?”

I tense. “Yes, Chancellor
Zade.”

“
Did you do as it said?”
He studies me, gaze unyielding.

“
I gave it to
Phyllis.”

“
Would you be willing to
let me cast a truth spell on you, and ask you about the incident
further?”

No. Please, no. He's a hexer for sure.
“Do I have to, Master?”

When he doesn't respond right away, I
realize my answer was too brash and brace for punishment. His eyes
tighten as he studies my face. Finally, he lounges back. He waves
his hand. I flinch and he puts it down.

“
There's really no need
for one,” he says. “You were telling the truth last night and if
your Father gets the message, it's enough.”

Tension eases from me a bit. No
punishment then. At least not now.

“
Shady business. I'll take
care of things though.” He grabs another cake from the tray.
“Dinner should be good tonight. Cook's really working
hard.”

The room is silent for a few moments.
What is he leading to? I bunch my hand into a fist.

“
I guess dinner doesn't
interest you either.” With a sigh, he stands and gets something
from his desk. “Women here are weird creatures.”

“
No odder than yourself.”
I clamp my jaws shut. Why did I say that?

The Envadi's brows rise. He stalks
toward me and raises his arm. I flinch. Here it comes. He lowers
his arm. What is he doing?

“
I just wanted to give you
this.” He raises his hand again, and I realize he's holding a note.
It was foolish to recoil. I take it from him. “Councilman Stephen
sent it after I asked where your mother was yesterday.”

The note is small in my hand. I open
it.