The Brand of Anem

by Kaitlyn Deann

  Judge James exhaled, frustrated. “Okay, let’s take a few steps back. Let’s talk about you. Forget the girl for a moment.”

  Carson was a bit more relieved to hear that and his heart seemed to agree.

  “You said you received the brand when you were sixteen.” Judge James paused. Carson realized he wanted confirmation, so he nodded, not once looking away from the pictures of his brand. The judge continued. “How often have you been having relations since? Was it just that one time? Was it maybe once every now and then? Be specific.”

  Carson whispered after a second and a half, “It varied.”

  “Varied how? Due to what? Specify.”

  He shrugged. How was he supposed to answer that? It was complicated. “Dunno. Life, I guess.”

  The judge smirked. “It’s not easy sneaking around, huh?” Again, Carson just shrugged. “What about recently?”

  Carson just nodded once—a minute confirmatory nod. He didn’t feel like that was too risky of a question to answer.

  “How recent?”

  Carson didn’t want to answer that one. He thought maybe answering could give a lot away about Margaret. It was possible it wouldn’t, but he couldn’t be too careful around the same man that fathered her.

  In response to Carson’s absence of speech, the machine spiked only a little, and the judge breathed out a heavy huff. “A month? A week? A day? C’mon, Owens, work with me.”

  The machine spiked more as Carson remained silent.

  “Hmm, interesting,” the judge mumbled, jotting down more notes. “Very recent then. Probably within the last week.” Carson’s heart and stomach both dropped through the floor. Could the judge really tell that much from the machine?

  The machine was suddenly spiking crazier than before. It started beeping again, wild warnings sounding in the small room despite it having been muted earlier. It must have exceeded certain parameters that it was muted for.

  Carson understood in that moment. No, the judge couldn’t tell it was within the last week from the machine alone. He was calling Carson’s bluff, and it worked. Damn it, he cursed at himself. How could he have been such a fool? The judge was able to get a reaction out of him that confirmed his statement. Without Carson saying a word, he had narrowed down a timeframe for the last time he had seen his lover.

  “Hmm.” Judge James wrote an entire paragraph before looking back at Carson and asking, “Is that why you were breaking curfew? Going to see the girl? Meet up with her? Did you have relations with her last night?”

  Carson clenched his jaw and rubbed his palms subconsciously on his pants. He was having extreme difficulty controlling his body’s natural reactions. And, of course, they caused the machine to react.

  “You know,” said the judge, setting his pen down on the table gently, a sigh on the edge of his words. “If you and this girl really want to be together, why haven’t you talked to her father about an engagement?” Carson remained silent. He most definitely couldn’t answer that one. “Perhaps he doesn’t like you,” assumed the judge. “Or perhaps he knows nothing of you.” Long pause. “Maybe you don’t actually want to marry her.”

  Carson didn’t even think before idiotically letting “That’s not true” slip from his lips. Again, he cursed himself.

  Judge James allowed a few moments to pass before continuing. “Well, all I know really is that she can’t be a married woman since her husband would know if she’d been unfaithful. It’s the beauty of Anem’s brand. Is she close to your age, then? It’s unheard of for a woman—or man—over twenty years of age to not be married. It’s not impossible, though.”

  Carson didn’t respond. He bit his tongue to remind himself how dangerous his words could be to Margaret.

  “I’m going to assume that’s a yes.” The machine spiked. To hell with you . “A definite yes,” he whispered, picking up the pen and jotting more notes down. “I don’t think you’re going to give me much more information about her, so I won’t ask who she is. We’ll find her regardless. I’ve already ordered my men to start setting up checkpoints around the city to check every shoulder of every woman between the ages of thirteen and twenty-five.”

  Beads of sweat formed on Carson’s forehead. ‘ We’ll find her regardless,’ he had said. Those words echoed in Carson’s head. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to squeeze the words and the worry out, but the machine told all. The only thing Carson could do was trust in Anem and hope she would answer his desperate prayers.

  ☽ ✵ ☾

  After spending the better part of the early morning completing her daily household duties, Margaret had sat down at her desk to write up the essay required by her mentor, Mr. Gibson, on the rules of the land and how they positively affect society. It was a tough assignment for Margaret since she didn’t have very many positive things to say about the topic, but she knew what she was supposed to say, so that’s what she wrote. She was sure her mentor—who worked at the courthouse where she had an internship—would appreciate the essay.

  She’d been an apprentice for nearly a year, and though she was assigned a job earlier than most of her peers—before graduating, even!—she didn’t necessarily hate it. It was her father that pulled the strings to get her in the system early, hoping his daughter would climb the ladder to ambassador of the Province of Deneb faster than her own mother did. She supposed he trusted her judgement quite a bit.

  She doubted he’d trust her much longer, though. Once she married William, he’d see that she’d already binded with someone else. He’d hate her, probably lock her up and divorce her on the grounds of sensual immorality. She’d lose her title of duchess and any chance of becoming ambassador. Oddly enough, though, Margaret smiled at the thought. She cared not about her bloody title or politics, and would honestly prefer to move down in station, if they’d allow her. If she moved down a few classes, her and Carson would actually be allowed to marry. She’d receive a simpler life, and how could that be something to frown over?

  But it was a silly thought. She would never be Carson’s wife.

  Margaret folded the two page essay and placed it in her clutch purse. It was due that evening by five, but she intended to have it in Mr. Gibson’s hands before one. Not because she wanted to be an overachiever, but because the courthouse was close to the farmers’ market that Carson was occasionally found in, either helping a few farmers unload their product for a few silver dollars, or shopping around himself with his sister in tow. She never stopped to speak to him, but she liked to see him in everyday life.

  She missed the school days they used to share. It was where they first met, after all, as four-year-olds and where they first kissed as fifteen-year-olds. Nowadays, they hardly saw each other outside of church, ceremonies, and committing hell-bound acts in her neighbor’s old rundown stable.

  There was a knock on the front door then. Margaret glanced at the clock on the wall. She had forgotten about her appointment with her seamstress—and friend—Gina Blake. She was too young to be a professional seamstress (she was only sixteen), but after her mother’s passing two years prior, her father—a Class Four who tilled the ground every day from sunup to sundown—struggled to provide basic necessities for his five children. Being the oldest of the five, Gina took it upon herself to at least provide for herself if she couldn’t provide for anyone else. But Margaret knew Gina skipped meals to feed her siblings a little more. So, when she came over to do her seamstress duties, Margaret always made sure she left with a full belly.

  Gina was all smiles when Margaret opened the door to let her in. Margaret couldn’t help but note how beautiful and truly genuine her smile always was.

  “I’m so excited you asked me to make your wedding dress,” gushed Gina. She wrestled with the three bags she toted all the way from her home to Margaret’s out of her way so she could give Margaret a hug.

  Gina didn’t start hugging Margaret until Margaret first hugged her several months ago. After all, it could be considered inappropriate if either girl were
not for it. But the two girls were now friends, and neither were uncomfortable with the other in the least. Still, hugging was against the rules in public, but not illegal in one’s own home.

  Margaret replied to Gina’s comment with a smile, saying, “There’s no one I trust more than you with a needle and thread. You’ve been making my clothing for two years now, haven’t you?”

  Gina shrugged gently. Everything she did was gentle. “That sounds about right. I’m very grateful that you and your father have such big hearts and have allowed me to—”

  Margaret shook her head and took one of the bags from her. She noted how hefty it was. “Don’t say it again, Gina. I swear, you express your gratitude towards us every time I see you. It’s unnecessary.”

  Gina blushed. Her emerald eyes fluttered to the ground for a moment. She was such a shy girl with such a big heart. There wasn’t a mean bone in her tiny body. “I can’t help it,” Gina whispered. Her voice was like a small bell. “I thank Anem every day for your family.”

  “I am the one grateful to you , Gina,” Margaret said. She motioned for Gina to follow her to the living room where Gina would have space to work her magic. “First thing’s first,” declared Margaret as she set the bag she carried down on the couch. “Let’s have a snack. I’m starved.”

  Gina set the two other bags with the other on the couch as well, nodding. “Sure.” She never turned Margaret down when offered food. Not anymore, at least. Gina must’ve known if she did refuse, Margaret would’ve continued insisting until she had shoved food into Gina’s mouth. It actually had happened once before. Since then, Gina always agreed to a snack.

  After warming it, Margaret handed Gina a plate of spaghetti leftover from the night before. Gina used to ask why their snack seemed like a full meal, but overtime, she stopped questioning it and always finished her serving. “Would you like more?” Maggie asked her timid friend who would never, ever dare ask for seconds.

  Gina shook her head no even though Margaret was already putting more on her plate. “I’m stuffed, but thank you, Maggie.” Gina was one of the few people that called her by her name—nickname, even—and not her title alone. Margaret liked that quite a bit. “Let’s get started,” Gina suggested. “I have samples of the different fabrics I thought would look so beautiful on you.” She clasped her hands together and smiled excitedly.

  Maggie set the plate back down in front of Gina. “We have time. Finish your food first, would you?”

  Gina slumped in disappointment and gazed down at the food. “I really am full, though.”

  “Fine, then.” Margaret shrugged. “I’ll pack it for you to take home.”

  Gina opened her mouth to protest, but must have thought better of it after Margaret gave her a stern look. After packing three helpings of spaghetti into a sealed container and putting it with Gina’s things so she wouldn’t leave it behind, Margaret announced to Gina she was finally ready to see the different samples.

  Gina laid out five different fabric squares, all white, all very delicate and beautiful. Margaret picked one that she thought she’d feel the most comfortable in: thick breathable cotton with a lace overlay.

  “How much will it cost for you to purchase this fabric?” inquired Margaret.

  Gina checked her notebook she had pulled out with the fabric samples. Margaret noted how organized and neat Gina’s daily notes were compared to her own. She even color-coordinated. Margaret tended to be envious of people who seemed to have their inner selves in such order. That was far more than she could ever hope for herself. “For all the material I’ll need, it’ll end up being about fifteen silver pieces.”

  Margaret nodded. “One moment.” She grabbed her coin purse from her room and hurried back to Gina. She counted out twenty-five pieces and placed them in Gina’s hand.

  “Twenty-five is too much,” said Gina, though she didn’t seem surprised, and she attempted to give Margaret back ten of those silver dollars.

  Margaret grabbed Gina’s hands and closed them over the coins. “Consider it a tip for stopping by today. Also, you never know if the price will go up! And what if you need any other tools? I want to invest in your craft so that my dress is as beautiful as it can be!” That wasn’t really why Margaret gave Gina ten more pieces than required, and Gina wasn’t naïve. But, it was the reason Margaret stated, and Gina would never call anyone a liar.

  Gina nodded and carefully dropped the pieces into her coin purse tucked secretly away in her skirt. “I’ll head over to the farmers’ market where I found that fabric as soon as I leave here. Hopefully they’ll have as much as I need for your dress.” Then she grinned the smallest of smiles and grasped the necklace tied around her throat that she always wore. Margaret wondered what the significance of the beaded necklace was to Gina. The letters on the beads were obviously carved by hand and definitely not by a professional. To Margaret, it looked like a homemade gift from someone that cared a lot about her, a gift that she treasured greatly. As she rolled one of the beads that spelled angel between two fingers, she said lowly, “I may even buy fabric for my own dress while I’m there.” She glanced at Margaret quickly. “Not with the silver pieces you’ve given me, of course. I’ve been saving for my own dress for a few weeks now as the judge looks for me a husband.”

  Margaret was surprised to be hearing that news for the first time. “My father is looking for a husband for you? But you’re under the age of consent. And you don’t finish school for another year.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but it’s possible under Deneb’s law for anyone older than fourteen to marry if the parents write a formal letter to the judge and he agrees that it’s beneficial. It’s not a common practice, I’ll admit, but it’s legal. My husband would have to be able to provide, of course, which means he’ll most definitely be at least a year older than me.”

  Margaret was quiet for moment. She knew about that rule, but it had slipped her mind. She thought it was one of those rules no one really took seriously. Outdated.

  Gina shrugged when Maggie didn’t respond. She pinched her plump lips to the corner of her mouth. “It’s been two weeks since the judge approved of my father’s request, but we’ve heard no word from him since.”

  “Would you like me ask him about—?”

  “No!” opposed Gina, throwing up her hands. “Please don’t bother your dear father with such a silly thing, Margaret. I’m sure he has bigger things to work on. And maybe he’s having a difficult time with my case. From what I understand, there’s a whole lot to take into account. It’s a time-consuming process, I’m sure.”

  Margaret nodded, recalling all the different rules required for two people to marry. She listed them aloud: “Class, age appropriateness, non-familial check, blood type...” There were more, but those were the few Margaret could name off the top of her head, the ones that were most important to the province.

  Gina nodded and began packing her bags. “Yes, your father must be very busy.”

  Margaret helped Gina with packing as she asked, “Did Mr. Blake request you to be married because of…?” She didn’t dare finish her illegal question. She was prying too far into Gina’s private life.

  Gina didn’t seem bothered though. She simply nodded without any hesitation. “It was my request, really. I suggested it to my father, and he drafted the letter. He doesn’t necessarily want it, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. With me out of his household, he’ll be able to care for my four younger siblings better.” She smiled at Margaret. Margaret didn’t think anyone could find joy where joy didn’t exist except for Gina. Margaret wished she was more content with life as Gina seemed to be with hers. “Everything will be so much better for my family when I marry. I look forward to relieving my father of the burden I am to him.”

  A heavy weight of sorrow for her friend befell Margaret in that moment. Gina considered herself a burden to her father, and since her mother’s passing during childbirth, she had worked so hard to relieve her father of that burden. In addition t
o her normal duties as a young teenage girl, she took care of the baby her mother died giving life to, cooked and cleaned, assisted her siblings with their daily chores and schoolwork, as well as started making clothing for Margaret and her family. Getting married early in life was Gina’s last-ditch effort to completely and fully relieve her father of herself, now that some of the other children were old enough to take over the household and family duties in her stead.

  Margaret wondered how Timothy Blake felt about his daughter getting married while in school and working so hard to just make a little difference in their household finances. She imagined he didn’t like it. He was good man, very kind and loving. Margaret remembered when his wife died, and how he mourned her passing so roughly. Yet he never turned his attention away from his children. You could see the love he had for each of them in his eyes anytime he simply looked at them. But with Gina…

  Parents weren’t supposed to have favorites, but Margaret thought he looked at her with more appreciation, adoration, and respect than any of his other children. Who could blame him? Gina wasn’t one to complain about anything and was more than willing to give everything she had and everything she was to make someone’s life better.

  She was a true angel—like her necklace so perfectly suggested—that Anem had handpicked and sent down to bless the people whose lives she touched. Of that, Margaret was convinced.

  “Well, anyway,” breathed Gina, picking up the bags again. “I’m off to the market.” She smiled so lovingly at Margaret. “I’ll be putting my heart and soul into this dress for you.”

  “You can have it done in time for the wedding? It’s only four days away. I can always go by the Adler’s Bridal Shoppe if you can’t—”

  “Don’t do that!” She looked offended Margaret had suggested such a thing. “I can and I will have it done in time for your wedding.”