Testament (3 page)

The Great Fall had not only destroyed the world we had known, but in the end, it had started a domino effect which had taken our parents’ lives as well. It killed whatever dream I had of following in their footsteps to become a teacher or professor as it had killed Griff’s of being a doctor. In five years, we’d lost our home, our country, most, if not all, of our physical possessions, yet we still hadn’t lost everything because we were still a family. However, that ended during rebellion.

I turned my attention back to what was supposed to have been a stew. The top layer was nothing more than a blackened mess, but as I stirred it, I found a bowl or two full that was salvageable. I set one down in front of Griff. He peered warily up at me through a shock of dark brown hair before he finally started eating.

“You hear what happened at the palace today?” he asked, through a mouthful of stew.

“I didn’t just hear it; I saw it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So, it’s true? Richard actually banished her?”

I nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. She and her whole group fled the palace by the time I left this afternoon.” I thought back to the way Venessa had held her head high and refused Richard. She really had guts.

Someone pounded on the door. “Probably another person wanting you to interpret their dream,” Griff said, dipping some of the bread I hadn’t burned in the smoky stew.

“No dreams during dinnertime!” I shouted.

Griff banged his fist on the table. “What the hell are you thinking? The money we get from those dreams helps put food on our table!”

“Fine,” I muttered, throwing my napkin onto the table. When I swung open the door, I was relieved to find it was only Micah.

“Hello again,” he bellowed cheerfully.

“Evening. I see you’re just in time for dinner.” Micah was known to try to mooch off our table whenever he could. It was just him and his mother left at home, and she had suffered a mental breakdown after the Great Fall and barely kept a job.

A broad smile filled his face as he tried to nonchalantly ask, “Oh, were you guys eating this late?”

He followed me back to the table. A few sniffs of the acrid smelling air and his smile faded. “You burned dinner
again
?”

“I don’t recall asking for your input, Micah.”

He wrinkled his nose as he eased into a chair across from Griff. “Well, it doesn’t matter because I didn’t come to eat.”

“Oh?” Griff and I echoed at the same time.

Micah quickly shook his head. “No, I wanted to know if you guys had heard the news.”

“Of course we have. You and I were there,
remember
?”

“No, no, no,” Micah said, waving his hand dismissively at me. “I’m talking about what happened
after
Richard met with his advisors.”

Griff looked at me, and I shook my head. “No, we haven’t heard anything about that.”

Micah’s full lips curved into a knowing smile. Crossing his arms over his chest, he puffed himself up like he held the keys to the greatest secret in the land. As we sat waiting for him to speak, he took a long swig from Griff’s cup.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh for pity’s sake, Micah, tell us the damn news.”

“Well, Richard has decided not to replace Venessa with any of the girls from the neighboring provinces. After her show of defiance, he says he can’t be sure those girls have been instilled with the proper values necessary to be a bride of Kellan.”

“Ugh, spare me,” I muttered.

“May I continue?” Micah asked.

“Whatever.”

He drew in a dramatic breath. “So, the plan appears to be for Kellan to choose his own bride.”

“And just how does he plan to do that?” Griff asked.

“Richard is demanding all the girls of seventeen to be brought to the palace. Once they are there, Kellan will pick by looking and talking to the girls.”

Griff’s dark brows furrowed. “Why seventeen?”

“Richard consulted his advisors—”

“His quack psychics and healers you mean,” Griff interrupted.

Micah ignored him and continued speaking. “The advisors said, when examining Kellan’s charts, that the numerology is perfect for a girl of seventeen to align with him. So, all that’s left is for him to a pick a girl of seventeen from a group of seventeen.”

I gasped. “You don’t mean to tell me it’s going to be like one of those beauty pageant things they used to perform?”

Micah nodded. “Yep, he says he wants Kellan to have the most beautiful girl in the province and one that has a good head on her shoulders.”

“You mean, one that has absolutely nothing in her head,” I replied.

“It’s the way of the land now.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s right. What kind of happiness will it make for Kellan to have a wife he can’t talk to and will only do his bidding like a slave?” I argued.

Leaning back in his chair, Micah placed his hands behind his head and grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

I smacked him on the head. “Ugh, you’re just as bad as the rest of the Neanderthal-minded men at the palace! A beauty pageant. What a ridiculous idea,” I huffed, grabbing up my half-eaten stew and taking it to the sink.

“I imagined it would get those feminist sensibilities all riled up again,” Micah said, giving me a wink.

“So what if I think the idea is archaic and completely sexist? It’s not any worse than what they’re doing now by having history repeat itself with the children of the CEO’s marrying off just like they were kings and queens.” I leaned back against the counter. “Besides, it’s not like Kellan is asking me.”

Micah joined me at the counter. “But he might.”

“Um, I think that’s highly unlikely.”

“You did share quite the interlude this afternoon,” Micah said, wagging his eyebrows.

Griff jerked his head up at me. “What’s this?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and shot a nasty look at Micah. “Oh yes, china ground into my hand by his father’s boot heel sure makes for a romantic moment.”

“That’s what happened to your hand?” Griff asked.

I could feel his anger growing. Quickly, I waved my bandaged hand dismissively as if it was commonplace for the ruler of the land to inflict bodily harm on me. “Yeah, but it was an accident. Don’t worry about it.”

Sensing Griff’s anger, Micah changed the subject. “Well, I still think you have a good a chance as any of the other girls at catching Kellan’s eye.”

I snorted at the absurdity. “Oh yes, what a cliched romance that would be. I can see the headlines now, ‘Girl from the gutters charms Prince Charming, and they live happily ever after.’”

Micah stared at me before glancing over his shoulder at Griff. “She just doesn’t get it, does she?”

Griff grinned and shook his head.

“And just what, supposedly, do I not get?” I demanded.

It was Griff who answered me. “How old are you, Cady?”

“Duh, you know exactly how old I am, brother dearest.”

Griff raised his eyebrows at me. “So, you’re seventeen—the exact age Richard is requesting for Kellan.”

“It’s
not
happening, Griff,” I insisted.

“It could,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

Micah took advantage of my disbelief to reach around me for my bowl. When he’d stuffed his mouth full, he said, “And I think she has a pretty good chance, don’t you, Griff?”

“Excuse me?” I demanded.

Micah drug his shirt-sleeve across his mouth. “Oh come on, Cady, don’t you ever look in a mirror?” He leaned over, his lanky frame towering over me. “Or do you keep that pretty little head of yours in books all the time?”

I shoved him away. “And just what are you trying to say?”

Griff leaned back in his chair. “Hell, Cady, stop being such a shrew. Micah’s telling you that you are beautiful.”

Shaking my head in exasperation, I said, “I must’ve done more than burn that stew because you two are acting positively drunk.”

Griff grabbed my arm before I could whirl away from the kitchen. “Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten what our father and mother used to say?”

I bit my lip as the tears stung my eyes. My parents had named me Cadence for the way I reacted to music and singing when my mother was carrying me. As the years went by, they said they should have named me Ashlynn, because in my mother’s homeland of Ireland, it meant beauty. Thinking of my parents sent a jagged knife of pain tearing through my chest.

Griff was right. Not so long ago, I had been sort of beautiful. I mean, I’d worn pretty clothes and makeup, and my long, auburn hair shone. But all that was gone now.

When I finally met Griff’s eyes, tears glistened in his. I nodded my head. “That’s ancient history…I’m a mess now.”

“Shoot, I’d say you’re the most beautiful mess I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Micah said, leaning over me.

“Oh, please.” Even though I brushed him off, I couldn’t help the hot embarrassment that I was sure colored my cheeks at Micah’s response. For the last few months, it felt like things were changing between us—or at least they were changing for him. It didn’t help matters that behind Micah’s back, Griff claimed Micah didn’t come to the house to see him, but instead it was all about the fact he was in love with me. In the end, I didn’t know how I felt. I’d never had a boyfriend. Lost in the raging storms of loss and grief, I never could shake the dark clouds long enough to find my way to love.

Sensing the awkwardness that hung in the air, Micah cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a mess now. Richard has offered his finest designers and stylists. You get the works for the pageant.”

“But what if I don’t want Kellan? What if I want love and romance and not some deranged pre-arranged marriage?”

“Well—” Griff started to argue, but I quickly interrupted him.

“And has the whole world gone completely crazy now? Girls used to go off to college at eighteen, not sauntering down the aisle of a wedding chapel to become breeding machines. Does any of that matter anymore?”

“You know it doesn’t, so why do you ask?” Griff replied, meekly. A defeated look settled in his eyes. It broke my heart.

“Because as long as we voice why we hate it, we still have a voice—we have a reason to keep going and not accept the change!”

Without another word, I whirled out of the kitchen and burst through the back door. Racing through the neighbor’s yards, I dodged fresh linens hung on the clotheslines. Washing machines and dryers were a thing of the past for working class people like us. Now, we resorted to a life before all those modern technologies.

I flopped down on the hillside, overlooking a bleak canyon. Tears that I had been holding back started flowing down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, I let them drop down onto the emerald grass peeking out from my shoes.

Griff came to find me as soon as Micah left. “We need to talk about this.”

I wiped my eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about. I won’t do it.”

“You heard what Micah said. Richard has ordered a decree, so there’s no way of getting out of it, especially with you working at the palace.”

“Fine. I’ll just quit. I’ll hide out here in the canyons. You can tell everyone your crazy sister, who couldn’t cook, ran away.”

“It won’t work, Cady.”

I stared up at him. “This is about more than me being a feminist who doesn’t want an arranged marriage.”

Griff stared down at his hands. “I know that.”

“What if they were to find out about us?” I asked, in a hushed whisper.

“How could they?”

I arched my eyebrow. “If Kellan were to pick me, he’d eventually have to see me naked. I mean, that’s what husbands and wives do, right? And when he did, he would see the tattoo.” I grimaced, as the symbol on my back seemed to burn suspiciously. It had been branded there almost two years ago—a way to keep track of all former believers. Well, the believers who survived the Second Civil War. There was still the rebellion to come. A cross, a Star of David, and an Islamic moon intertwined on my right shoulder blade. The government didn’t distinguish between denominations or religions—a believer was a believer, and they were branded. It was also intended we be corralled into one province where the government could keep track of us, but many people, like Griff and me, had escaped after our parents were murdered. But if anyone saw the tattoo, we’d be put to death.

When Griff didn’t argue back, I rushed on. “Besides, it may not even get to Kellan seeing me naked. If this is truly a pageant like in the olden days with costume changes, then anyone could see it when I was changing clothes.”

“Not if you were careful,” Griff replied softly.

Staring incredulously at him, I threw up my hands. “Fine! Just feed me right to the lion’s mouth why don’t you?”

“And what if you’re meant to do this, Cady?”

“What do you mean?”

Griff eased down onto the grass beside me. He didn’t look at the rocky canyons where the sun was setting. Instead he focused his gaze on the flowering meadow. “If you were to win over Kellan and in turn, Richard, think of what it could do for our people.”

“But they despise our people. They see us as the reason for all the wrong that happened in the world. It’s not enough they banned any type of religion, but they made sure to brand us in case any of us ever tried anything again.”

“And maybe you could change all that.”

“Hmm, our world in the hands of a spazz like me? Doubtful.”

Griff smiled. Whenever he truly let himself go, he looked just like our father. “You’re not a spazz, Cady. You’ve been given an amazing gift to interpret dreams.”

“Everyone’s except my own,” I grumbled.

“And maybe, one day it will be revealed to you. Maybe there’s something that you have to do before it can be seen.” Suddenly his smile faded, and his expression grew very serious. He glanced around to ensure we were truly alone before his brown eyes locked on mine. “There is something I have to tell you—something I’ve been keeping from you.”

My heartbeat fluttered at his tone. “What is it?”

He leaned closer to me to where his lips hovered over my ear. “I’ve joined the Abir.”

“You’ve what?” I screeched.

“Shh!” he cried, moving to cover my mouth. I swatted his hand away.