19. Two Days Until Bonding #3
“Or me,” Rebecca agrees.
She begins to turn toward me, then catches herself and faces the wall again.
“For years, I wondered whether The Order had finally killed that part of him. The boy who carried food in his pockets because helpless creatures needed him.” Her hand rests on the stone beside the brazier. “I didn’t see that side of him again. Not until you came along.”
Both of us are silent after that. The only sound is water splashing while I wash my hair and wait for my tears to stop.
When I finish, Rebecca passes me a towel without looking. I climb out, dry myself, and pull on the white robe. The fabric is thick and soft, reaching almost to my ankles.
“I’m covered.”
Rebecca turns.
“I won’t pretend to be your mother, Laurel. I can only give you the guidance I wish someone had given me.”
She looks over my wet hair, the robe, and my bare feet. Approval registers in a small nod.
She goes to the brazier. An iron rod rests across the rim, its cross-shaped end suspended above the glowing coals, the metal still dark and cold. Rebecca wraps her hand around the wooden handle and lifts it.
My body moves backward, a quick retreat. “What’re you doing?”
“The bath purifies the body. The mark completes the initiation.”
She holds the iron between us.
I can’t look away from the cross. It’s smaller than the scar on Carrson’s shoulder, but I recognize it. It matches the mark on Sam’s chest, positioned just above her breast. All the Sisters wear it.
“You want to brand me.”
Rebecca lowers the cross but doesn’t return it to the brazier. She meets my eyes. “I’m not asking you to decide this instant.”
“You brought me down here, had me bathe, and put me in a robe. It feels like you’ve already decided.”
“I prepared the path. Whether you take the final step is up to you.”
“Carrson will hate this.”
“Yes.”
Her agreement stops me.
“He’ll hate seeing the mark on you,” she continues. “He’ll hate knowing you experienced any part of what was done to him down here.”
“Then why would you help me do it?”
“Because Carrson’s feelings are not the only ones that matter. Yours do too.”
No one in The Order has separated what I want from what Carrson needs before. Hearing Rebecca do it feels like betraying him and defending myself at the same time.
“He’ll think you forced me.”
“He may.” She glances at the brand. “You’ll tell him the truth. Whether he believes it will be his decision.”
“What happens if I refuse?”
“I take you upstairs. You put on the ball gown. You attend the party as Carrson’s chosen woman, but the bonding cannot take place. Not tomorrow or ever.”
Rebecca lifts the iron again.
“Carrson will go to dark places,” she says. “Some because The Order sends him there. Others because he chooses them.”
The cross hovers between us.
“This is a key. It will open doors so you can follow him into those places.”
“It’s a brand, to burn me.” I take in the dark metal, cold now, and imagine it glowing red. Imagine the pain, the smoke, when it touches my skin.
“It is both.”
I think about Carrson, who would rather tear apart The Order than watch it hurt me.
But I know what tearing apart The Order would cost him.
I know how many people depend on him, fear him, or wait for him to become the man who takes Carr’s place.
Loving Carrson will never mean loving only the parts of him that exist in bedrooms, on rooftops, or in the stolen hours when we pretend the rest of the world can’t reach us.
There will always be locked doors. People coming for us.
Unless I can stop them.
“When I was young, I thought I could control The Order. I believed Carr and I would rise high enough to decide what it became.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
I expect sadness, but anger fuels her words. Her mouth tightens, and her eyes go hard.
“There was a glass ceiling over my head so clear I didn’t know it existed until I struck it. Do you know who put it there?”
I shake my head.
“Men.” She returns to the brazier and lowers the iron into the glowing coals.
“Give them enough power, and it corrupts them. They stop asking what serves The Order and start asking what keeps them in control. They hoard money, influence, and access until protecting their own position becomes the only purpose.”
“But you believe in The Order. You fought to join it.”
“I believe in what it could be, not what it is now. I thought if I worked hard enough, long enough, I could make it right.” She breathes out a bitter laugh. “I failed.”
The coals brighten around the iron.
“Now, there’s only one way forward.” Her back is straight, her chin level, as though she’s delivering an argument before the Senate instead of standing in an ancient chamber under a mansion.
“Destroy it.”
She leaves the rod in the brazier and returns to me, stopping far enough away that I could still move past her.
“You won’t be safe, and you won’t be able to protect Carrson. Not as long as The Order stands.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
I watch her, searching for the trap. Is she trying to turn me into a traitor so she can slip a noose around my neck later, or is she really inviting me into her plan?
“Are you suggesting I help you take on The Order?”
“Yes, I am.” She leans down and pulls the plug at the bottom of the bathtub.
It lets go with a hollow pop. The water lets out a final burst of sweet, floral scent, then gurgles as it empties.
“I’ve gathered evidence. Made allies.” She dries her hands on a towel.
“It isn’t enough. I’m too visible. Every meeting I attend, every question I ask, someone notices. ”
She looks me over.
“But not you. They underestimate you. They see an outsider. A frightened girl Carrson dragged into their world. They won’t realize what you’re capable of until it’s too late.”
Silas’s drawl returns with startling clarity.
The Order thinks you’re a pawn but, darling, I think you’re the queen. The endgame.
The man who kidnapped me and the woman preparing to welcome me into The Order should have nothing in common. Yet they’ve both looked at me and seen the same possibility.
That I could help end it.
Are they right?
Rebecca returns to the brazier and draws out the iron. Sparks rise toward the ceiling as the brand emerges from the coals, glowing red-orange. “Do you know the best way to bring down a system?”
I shake my head.
“From the inside.” Rebecca steps closer. I stare at the glowing cross she holds out. She’s not hiding what she wants me to do.
“Most Daughters are never offered a choice,” she says. “The Order treats the mark as inevitable. If a girl resists, they restrain her and do it anyway.”
My stomach turns over at that. Forcing women against their will.
“I won’t do that to you.” Rebecca keeps the iron well away from my body. “You may leave this room. I can buy you time to run, though I can’t promise they won’t find you.”
“If I stay?”
“You accept the mark. You bond with Carrson.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Then you help me tear The Order apart from within.”
Carrson will hate the mark. He’ll hate Rebecca for offering it and himself for being the reason I accepted. But refusing will not erase the violence waiting for him. It will only guarantee that when he enters it, I can’t go with him.
I’ll remain a true outsider.
“You can run,” Rebecca says. “Or you can stay and fight. For yourself. For Carrson. For everyone The Order will hurt if no one stops it.”
The brand burns between us.
“What do you choose?”
Carrson.
The answer comes immediately, but he isn’t the only reason.
I choose the right to stand beside him instead of waiting for him to return, until one day he doesn’t.
I choose the power to protect us both. I choose the chance to pry open the doors The Order has kept closed and take what they’ve hoarded for themselves.
Money. Influence. Knowledge. All of it could help people born without the right name or enough power to make anyone listen.
“I choose Carrson.” I part my robe, revealing the smooth skin over my heart.
Rebecca nods like she knew that would be the answer all along. “So be it.” She presses the hot iron into my flesh, and the world explodes into searing, endless pain.
“Welcome to The Order.”