The Brand of Anem

by Kaitlyn Deann

  Quickly, feeling quite perturbed, he interrupted her, his tone only slightly acidic from the irritation rising inside him. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing, Margaret.” And that was all he said. It was all he felt he had to say.

  She was quiet for an entire minute. Perhaps she was surprised at the tone he took with her, considering he never took a tone with her—or really anyone, for that matter. Finally, she whispered, “I wouldn’t change anything either, Carson. But I’m sure that’s selfish.”

  “How?” He was still irritated, but he controlled it well.

  She answered, “Because I’d risk your dignity just to have loved you for a short time, and that’s not right.”

  He couldn’t respond immediately, and that was mostly due to the sudden shame that washed over him. After a short moment, he had built up enough courage to confess to Margaret in a low voice, “I understand what you mean. I’d risk your dignity, too, and I know it has to be a sin. Anem must be severely disappointed in me.”

  Margaret nestled herself back into Carson’s neck. She sighed against his skin, “Me, too.”

  “No, it’s not the same,” he insisted.

  “How can you say that? Of course it’s the same. Same sin, same punishment.”

  “No, Margaret… You’re the duchess. People watch you. They look up to you. They expect you to be perfect. When that brand is discovered, they’ll never forget or forgive you. You’ll always be the duchess that fell to the flesh. Shamed. Then there’s me: Everyone always expected me to be a troublemaker. When I’m found out, by the next day, it’ll be old news.” He turned his head slightly down at her and she lifted hers to lock eyes with him. “You know I’m right,” he whispered, his throat getting tighter as he fought the tears that choked him. “Yet, I wouldn’t change a thing, and I hate myself for being so selfish.”

  Margaret caressed his face and pressed her lips against his. He absorbed every millisecond of her presence and of the kiss and of how soft her pink lips felt against his. She pulled away after a moment and whispered just a centimeter from his mouth, “This isn’t how I want our last night together to be. No more negativity, okay?”

  He gave her a soft nod and tilted his head just enough to touch his lips to hers again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Light filtered through Carson’s eyelids. He groaned and turned his back to the light. His body pressed against another body, which surprised him, because… Wasn’t he in his bed at home?

  Carson sat up quickly, staring at Margaret’s half-naked sleeping body on the cave floor. Morning light shone through the narrow cave entrance, showering the two of them in beautiful rays of sudden horror.

  He shook Margaret to wake her, and it was more fiercely than he meant as he grabbed his clothing and began haphazardly dressing. “Margaret!” he called, shaking her again.

  She moaned once, as if she wasn’t concerned of the time. Then, abruptly, she gasped and jumped up. “Oh, my god!” she exclaimed. “What time is it?” She dressed herself more quickly than Carson had ever thought possible.

  “It’s a bit after sunrise,” he quavered. His hands shook with adrenaline as he laced his boots. “I think we can get home in time. We just have to leave now.”

  “I’m ready,” she said, pulling her cloak over her shoulders and clasping it. “What about you?”

  Carson finished knotting his boot laces. “Let’s go.”

  Maneuvering over the boulders was easier with the bit of light rising in the east, and therefore, they moved quicker. Thankfully, no one was outside at that time. Curfew wouldn’t be up for an hour more.

  If that.

  They ran, and though Carson could outrun Margaret ten times over, he slowed himself and kept a tight hold on her elbow, pulling her along. She struggled much more than he did, considering she never ran for any reason.

  While they raced through the city’s various parks and neighborhoods, Carson kept an eye out. It would be just their luck that an early riser would peek through their curtains right when they were passing by—running together, nonetheless, before curfew was up. If anyone saw them, it would be painfully obvious what was going on.

  But, despite the fear that bubbled in Carson’s stomach, they made it to the James house unnoticed. They stopped running only when they made it to Margaret’s bedroom window. Margaret was breathing heavily, but she still managed to say, “Go, Carson. Don’t worry about me. My father lets me sleep in the morning. He doesn’t check—”

  Carson ignored her. He opened her window and then heaved her inside without much help from her. Once she was safely in her room, he shut the window carefully. No farewell words were exchanged. Carson immediately bolted for the trees, and he didn’t glance back at her.

  He raced home, praying Anem would show him mercy and slow down the sun’s expeditious progress across the pink-and-orange tinted sky. As he sprinted, he contemplated the last year and all the time Margaret and him had wasted pretending—just as she had solemnly put it.

  As Carson haphazardly crossed the last barbed wire fence, he got his sweater caught in it and snagged it. He huffed, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to be too worried about the sweater. All he could do was think about Margaret and what they could never be. After all, she was a Class Eight, and Carson was barely unlucky enough to be a Class Five.

  Class Eights were only paired with Class Sevens or Eights, because those were the High Classes. Four, Five, and Six were the Middle Class, and that’s where Carson fell: in the middle of the Middle, which was mostly constructed of officers like his father, nurses like his mother, and carpenters like their neighbor Patrick. Carson always wondered why the rule forbidding the marriage of separate classes existed. He assumed it was an attempt at control, like most of the damn rules.

  In that moment, it dawned on him: Margaret had let him go and accepted her forthcoming future. That was why she wanted to talk about William Lach. She had already accepted that she would be his wife, not Carson’s. What was he chasing? What had he been chasing?

  When Carson arrived at his window, the red emergency light suddenly switched on inside his room. His stomach flipped sideways and upside down before planting itself in his throat. He dove for the shadow casted under the window. His heart hammered in his chest. He knew he was caught already, but he couldn’t find the courage or strength to step up and face the music.

  If only he had been a few minutes earlier.

  Carson could hear his parents talking in the room to each other. His mother had started crying, and that made it even more difficult for Carson to step forward and admit his wrongdoing. There was no way he’d be able to look into her eyes just to see the disappointment that was undoubtedly there.

  “Why would he do this?” cried Kayla.

  “Yeah,” breathed his father, but he didn’t sound like he was on the same page as his wife. “I have to call—”

  “No, Derek!” she interrupted quite loudly. “He’s a good kid!” There was a crack in her voice with the rise of pitch.

  “Kayla... Sweetheart, you know I have to call it in. He’s broken a rule. He knew what he was doing, and he will be punished accordingly.”

  Only three heartbeats passed before his mother said anything in response. “What’s the punishment?”

  Derek hesitated. Carson thought that maybe his father wanted to spare her, but he answered truthfully anyway: “Lashes.” Carson noticed he left out the number of lashes he’d be receiving.

  Carson inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. It was all worth it in the end. He swore he’d never apologize. Loving Margaret James for the time he had her was worth a lifetime of sorrow opposed to living a life having never known the intense joy her love brought him.

  Something struck Carson in that moment, and it struck him hard in his gut, knotting into a million tangled clusters of angst.

  They would see his brand. He would not be able to hide it if he tried. The whipping post required a shirtless victim, and Carson was undoubtedly the next victim. W
hen they would arrest him, they’d no doubt strip-search him and have him change into a prisoner uniform. The brand that tied Carson’s soul to Margaret’s would be revealed. The very same brand that the two of them successfully kept hidden from every eye except their own for the last year.

  They would label him a licentious backslider instantly, and he’d be issued an additional twenty lashes for his debauchery. Then they’d search high and low for his matching pair—his lover, his unwedded yet bedded partner.

  Fear seized Carson so abruptly with cold, dead hands. What would happen if I just ran far away? He shook the thought from his head instantaneously. ‘ Jerry Carson Owens, executed for running away’ would be engraved on his tombstone. That was one rule he would never dare break.

  Then that was it. The night on the beach… That was the last time he’d ever hold Margaret in his arms. He had known that before, of course, but he really knew it now. That night was the last time he’d run his fingers through her silky hair, kiss her soft lips, hold her tightly. It was the last time he’d ever share his love with her.

  Carson could live with the punishment of his brand, he didn’t doubt that. What about Margaret though? Had their secret affair truly ruined her life? Carson prayed his predictions were wrong about her future. He thought again about when William would find her brand and what he might do about it. She couldn’t have a normal life anymore because of Carson, that was certain. William would never forgive her. She’d end up a divorcee. She’d be labeled a harlot. She’d be put through hell.

  What have I done?

  Carson really doubted that their engagement would last much longer, though, now that they were going to be looking everywhere for a matching brand to his own. Eventually someone would check her shoulder, and as the daughter of Deneb’s judge, she would reap more consequences than Carson. She was someone born into a position of leadership and guidance for the rest of the province.

  People didn’t expect much from Carson since they did not really know him at all, and what they did know was that he belonged to the Owens family, who were rumored to be notorious for raising hellions. But those were just rumors that Carson had overheard one or two—or maybe twenty—times. He’d seen no proof of the Owens bloodline constantly creating trouble in their community. Although, according to Derek, most of their relatives had left Deneb several decades ago and never kept in touch. Carson wondered if those were the Owens that old people still whispered about.

  But everyone knew Margaret. Everyone expected the absolute best from her. The guilt of that gripped Carson’s heart. He hoped nobody would find the brand. He prayed diligently for Anem to take it away from her for the sake of her future. For the sake of her dignity. He’d take the inevitable punishment and shame for her, and then he’d multiply it by ten if Anem would only answer his prayers.

  Slowly, Carson stood from where he was crouched. He couldn’t stay hidden in the shadows forever. Be brave, he told himself. Don’t show your fear. Be blank. Don’t give away what you know. If they find the brand, let it be as it must. If, by some miracle of Anem, they do not see it, praise the goddess for the undeserved blessing! In the meantime, Carson would continue to send a thousand prayers to the heavens.

  He peeked in his bedroom window. His parents still stood there, but they weren’t talking. Kayla sobbed into Derek’s chest, and he held her lovingly, trying his best to comfort her. Carson’s heart clenched under the pressure of her sorrow and the knowledge that his actions were the cause.

  He steadied his breathing with minimal effort. His heart, though, he could not control. He gripped the latch to the window, preparing himself for the consequences that awaited him, that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

  If you’re listening, don’t let Margaret suffer the same fate as me. I’ll take it all. I’ll even die, if that’s what it takes. Spare her.

  ☽ ✵ ☾

  Being handcuffed by one’s own father was the worst feeling in the world, in Carson’s opinion. And as a parent, he didn’t imagine it felt too great for his father either. The worst part of it all was the look in Derek’s eyes when they made eye contact as he told Carson to turn around and put his hands behind his back. Carson would never forget that heavy, aged look. Not if he lived a million years.

  He had Carson sit down on the edge of his bed while they waited for William and his team to arrive. Carson’s stomach knotted a thousand times and continued to twist with each moment that passed. But he showed nothing. He would not ever show how he felt. He couldn’t betray himself in that way, and he had to make sure Margaret was always protected from his expressions.

  Carson’s younger sister opened his bedroom door a few minutes after he’d been handcuffed. Did the noise wake her? Or was it the red emergency light shining into the hall from under the door? She was already in tears. Had she been eavesdropping, then?

  “Casey,” said Derek gently. He was always gentle with her, as if she’d break with any kind of force. Carson appreciated that he didn’t treat her as strictly as he had been treated at her age. “Go back to your room, honey. When the officers get here—”

  “No!” Her voice was a screech. She ran at Carson and threw her small body onto him, curling herself into his lap and hugging herself tightly to him. “Don’t do this, Daddy!” she yelled. “Don’t get him in trouble! He’s a good man! He’s good !”

  Derek squatted down next to where Carson sat handcuffed on the bed, where Casey was latched onto him. He pet her hair lightly in an attempt to soothe the child. “I know, honey. He is indeed a very good man.”

  Carson shut his eyes. Anem, please...

  She jerked her reddened, wet face towards their father. “Then why would you do this?!”

  He hesitated when he saw her face in its current state. But after a short second, he replied to her, saying, “It’s what’s expected of me, my dear child. I have to do my job.”

  “He’s your son!” she yelled at him.

  Kayla attempted to wrap her arms around Casey and pry her off of Carson, but she knocked her arms away. “No! If they take him, they have to take me too!”

  “You are not of age to be held accountable,” her mother whispered to her. “They cannot punish you.”

  “They will lecture you firmly, though,” Derek said in a more strict manner. Still, it wasn’t near as bad as how Carson had been scolded as a young boy. “And, Cassandra,” —Derek used her real name and that always meant business with him— “you should know that the other officers are not like me. Because I’m your father, I love you, and I don’t want to scare you or be mean to you in any way. But the others may have no such whims.”

  Casey’s grip tightened on her brother.

  Their parents sighed together, ducking their heads as if defeated. But Carson would not let his eleven-year-old sister get in trouble simply because she loved him dearly.

  “Casey,” he whispered. Everyone’s attention was on him in that second. After all, it was the first thing he had said since climbing back through the window.

  She sniffled. “Yes?”

  “You are growing into an amazing young woman.” He paused for only a second to allow her to process. “You are a better person than me, and I need you to remain that way.” She sobbed a couple of times into his sweater. “Please, Case. Can you do that for me? Be a good person?”

  She sniffled. “I can try.”

  “You promise to do your best? For me?”

  She nodded into his shirt, gripping it tighter.

  “Thank you. But first, I need a favor. Just one.”

  She looked up at Carson for the first time since he started talking to her. “What—what is it?” she said between sobs.

  “I need you not to get in trouble. Not for me. Go back to your room and shut the door.”

  She stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes for a few moments before she said, “But, you—”

  “I’ll be okay, squirt,” he said to her, and then gave her a peck on her hairline. “Let Mother pu
t you back to bed now.” On cue, Mother stepped up and held out her arms for Casey. “Go on,” Carson encouraged with a smile. She needed to see her brother smile. She needed to know he was going to be okay. “Everything will be all right.”

  “You promise, big brother?”

  “I promise, little sister.”

  She stared at him for another second or two before giving him one last tight hug and taking her mother’s hand to be led back to her room. If any officer had caught her out of her room, they would’ve chosen to lecture her strongly about breaking the rules of leaving one’s room without good reason. Though Carson was unsure if she’d actually get in trouble since the situation at hand could have technically been considered a good reason. Even Derek was unsure on how they would react to her. Neither of them wanted to take that chance.

  “Thank you,” his father whispered, sitting on the bed right next to him.

  “I don’t want her to get in trouble because of me.”

  Derek huffed before he responded. “But you want to get into trouble, is that right?”

  Carson shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “Of course I didn’t plan on getting into trouble.”

  “Then what was that stunt, huh? Sneaking outside ? What if someone else had seen you? What if someone else had caught you besides me?”

  “Never happened before,” mumbled Carson.

  “What was that?”

  Carson quickly changed the subject. “What does it matter if you caught me anyway? You still turned me in. Nothing was different.”

  He shook his head disapprovingly. “There’s still so much you don’t know.” He cut his eyes at him from the corner. “Where did you go? Where could you even go?”

  Carson shrugged, looking down at the wood floor. “I just walked around. I like nighttime. It’s beau—”