Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
We all know the story of how the temple came to be constructed, because we have to. The Artifice is the center of our society. At one stage there was a government, but we don’t have one of those anymore. Instead, we have the Artifice. An all-knowing authority that makes the decisions we proved we could not be trusted to make for ourselves.
As we step out of the vehicle, there is a brief moment in which she looks nervous. There are lots of stairs going up to the doors, because the temple is significantly elevated above street level.
I look at my sister with no small amount of admiration. She looks every inch the noble bride. She might be petty to me sometimes, but I love her, and in moments like these, I admire her. She is living proof that there are still bloodlines of power. Ours is one such family. But the family Darken is one of the most powerful. That is why Maraline’s new husband can forego the formality of coming here for a wedding—which is what a gentleman would do—and why we have to drop Maraline at the temple, as if she is a package being posted.
Maraline doesn’t care. We could wrap her up in brown paper and she would be just as happy. She just wants to be married. All she cares about is having a position in society. That is what will give her value for the rest of her life.
I don’t think I’ll be this excited when it’s my turn. I hope I don’t have to go far, and I hope whoever I am matched with is closer to my age. I don’t even want to think about it. I like our home. I can’t imagine leaving the big old house with the horses and the open fields. Everything is blue and green and perfect. It’s where we come from and where we belong.
I think we’re all starting to realize all the ramifications of the fact that the Darken family lives on another continent entirely, and on the far side of it. Visiting will be practically impossible. This is likely the last time we will see Maraline until she is pregnant, and she does not seem to be a bit bothered by it.
Is getting matched and married really this important? She doesn’t know the man. All she knows is that he is a man, and a rich and powerful one. I would need more than that. I would need to want to be in love.
“I hope I don’t ever match,” I tell my mother.
“Oh, hush,” she says, as she always does.
My father is escorting Maraline up the stairs, ensuring she does not trip on her dress. The train flows down the stairs behind her, very dramatic and elegant. My mother takes a picture, and then another. I swear she has taken over a hundred pictures of Maraline in the last hour alone. I know why she is doing it. It is because she is going to have to say goodbye to her daughter very, very soon.
My father and Maraline are met at the doors of the temple. The rest of us won’t be permitted to go inside. They are tall men and women, wearing fancy red coats edged in gold. A whole contingent is here to greet us. At their head there are two officers. One has gray hair, and the other is younger. They look similar because they share a family resemblance. Those who serve the Artifice do so in family lineages unless the Artifice decides to deploy them elsewhere.
“We have come to present our daughter,” my father says. I can see Maraline shaking a little, steadying herself on his arm. I wonder if she is starting to get scared, or if it is just her natural excitement.
“Mila Seraphine?” The Artifice officer intones a name. The wrong name.
My blood runs cold, and suddenly there is a ringing in my ears.
That is my name.
“No, we are presenting Maraline Seraphine,” my father says, blithely unaware of the terrible thing that Maraline, my mother, and I have already completely understood. The plaque that was sent to us just said M Seraphine. We all assumed it was for Maraline. It wasn’t for Maraline.
“Mila Seraphine has been chosen,” the officer says.
At that point, my mother rushes up the stairs, putting herself between me and the officers, who are ignoring Maraline entirely and staring at me.
“There must be some mistake! Mila is only nineteen! She is not of age.”
“She is more than a year older than required. I do hope you are not suggesting the Artifice has made a mistake.” The officer’s tone is cold, cruel, and threatening.
I gasp, clasping my hands to my face. My mother has just committed blasphemy in front of an officer of the Artifice. It is an unthinkable error, one that could have far-reaching consequences.