by Casey Hays
I glance at Diana. She doesn’t want this life, either, even with all her yielding. And her expression lends me the courage to finally say out loud what I’ve been plotting in my heart for months.
“I don’t think I’ll be going to the Pit today.” I speak the words so softly I barely hear them myself. But Diana hears, and her eyes widen in horror.
“Not going? Kate, you cannot rebel!” Her words burst out in a frightened whisper. “If you do, they will kill you!”
I know what she says is true, but I don’t care. I straighten and face Diana’s shocked stare proudly.
“Then I will die.”
My words are definite and edged with a promise that sends shivers down my own spine. Diana shudders, and I know what I’ve said has affected her, too. But the words also make me smile with a sense of purpose. I can do this. I can stand up and refuse what Mona and the rest of the clan have determined to be my fate. Until this moment, I haven’t thought it to be true. But it has to be.
“Kate,” Diana’s voice becomes desperate. “Think about what you are saying.” She struggles to her feet against her weight and faces me. “You saw what happened to Meg when she rebelled last year. Her death was humiliating . . . and not quick.”
My eyes narrow. “I know. But Meg was a fool. She would have died anyway because she let herself love. What is that? We cannot love, Diana. That was a foolish thing to die for.”
My own words sting me, and they hit Diana in the gut. With a pained effort, she rears her shoulders back and glares at me hard.
“You have not held a child in your arms, Kate. Your child. Only then can you understand love.”
I level my gaze at Diana. “That may be true. But I refuse to be forced to find out.”
My eyes hold resolve that she can’t combat. This conversation is finished. Her shoulders sink.
“Kate—”
I turn away, and Diana sighs, a long, sad breath.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” She gives me a sad look that I fail to avoid even as I try, and she shuffles out.
No, I don’t know what I’m doing. I clench my fists and scream out in despair at the top of my lungs—on the inside. Perhaps I’ve said too much, and Diana is going to go straight to Mona and report it all.
Well, so? What if she does? I mean every word, don’t I? Of course I do. And if I must die for it . . . .
But Diana won’t tell. I know she’ll never betray me.
“Kate.”
I stiffen. I know this voice. It is the sound of authority that rings out in the Village. The symbol of justice and order. The time has come. My words will be put to the test. I close my eyes.
Courage, I whisper to myself.
Mona stands just outside the doorway, her strong, stout arms crossed over her voluptuous chest. Her golden hair hangs in loose tresses over her bronzed shoulders. She does not smile.
“You’ve wasted enough of our time, girl. We must begin the celebration. Come child.” She stretches a brown hand through the bamboo leaves and waits.
I take a step back. Behind Mona, I see the dark, piercing eyes of Tara, second-in-command and a former guard. Her face is just as hard and unwavering as ever. And as expected, I will get no help from her today.
“Kate!” Mona’s voice rises with irritation. “You are only delaying the inevitable. Every woman must take her place eventually. The Archer has spoken. Today is your day.”
These words spill from Mona’s lips with very little thought. And why not? She’s had twelve children, and all have been girls, which some agree is the reason the stars aligned to give her the highest position in the Village. Her child-bearing days now over, she took her place as leader long ago. Just over fifty, she is as strong and beautiful as ever. She has nothing more to fear, nothing to lose. I swallow and meet Mona’s hard eyes.
The Archer has chosen my destiny, just as the Scorpion chose Mia’s and the Bull chose Diana’s. And without a fight, we are expected to accept it. But I can’t. I retreat another step before I speak.
“What if I refuse?”
My small voice rings inside my head. It doesn’t seem like my voice at all. It’s too distant. Too foreign. Asking for the impossible. I swallow.
Through a wide space in the leaves, I see Mona’s reaction. Her mouth tips at the corner into a sardonic smile, and the corners of her eyes crinkle with sick pleasure. I think I hear her laugh. But in an instant, her face turns hard.
“You won’t.”
She lurches through the entrance and yanks me out into the blinding sunlight. I squint against the pain of it, gasping as Mona’s grip tightens on my arm. My knees collide with the ground right at Mona’s feet—an involuntary bow. Tears sting my eyes as I peer up at the woman towering over me.
“I’ve had enough of your childish games.” She releases me and straightens into a solid column of golden muscle, beautiful in all its fierceness. “Come, Kate. The preparations are complete.”
She turns and walks away, expecting that I will follow. When I don’t, she gestures to Tara, who pulls me to my feet and pushes me roughly in the direction Mona is headed. I stumble along behind her, my fear mounting with every step I take.
Now, it begins.
Chapter 2
“Youths oppress my people, women rule over them. O my people, your guides lead you astray; they turn you from the path.” Isaiah 3:12
I’m afraid. So very afraid. Terrified, in fact. Not of what is expected of me. Not so much. Rather, I’m terrified I will not be able to do what I’ve promised myself.
My head is spinning as we enter the clearing. I scan my surroundings. Long wooden tables are dressed to overflowing with juices, fruit, and breads. Fruit mostly, the symbolic food of fertility. A large, roasting boar turns over an open pit. All around, women are chattering expectantly, excited for this day . . . for me. Little girls scamper around, watched carefully by their nannies—one of the only times they are released from the nursery area. Each person smiles and lowers her head slightly in respect as Mona passes. Some snicker and point—at me. It’s too much. There is too much laughing, dancing, movement. I close my eyes tightly, clasp my hands over my ears. This isn’t happening.
At the head table sits the rest of the Council. Ten more women who have done their duty and now live comfortably as community leaders. Some are smiling, some not so much. Do they know what I feel today? Do they understand my fear? It’s so difficult to detect what they think when their lives have been buried so long underneath the weight of their duty.
In the middle of the head table the seat of honor beckons me. I’ve never sat in a chair, but today, this is my place. My seat of recognition. I will be toasted and fawned over and celebrated in every way imaginable. It should have been a good day. A happy day.
But I cringe.
I have attended many celebrations in honor of others, but I have been a spectator only. Those celebrations were fun. And why not? I wasn’t the center of attention then. My life was not the one on the front line, faced with an unbearable plight.
I can recall each feeble, young girl seated on the throne. Sometimes she was trembling with fear at what she must face after the celebration ended. At other celebrations, she was proud and tall, fueled by the attention she was receiving and the great duty she would undertake for the Village from that day forth. And even when I felt an iron hand clench around my heart in pity or defiance for each one of those girls, what had it mattered? Those celebrations were not my own.
Today it matters. Today, I see my own face in the eyes of every girl who has gone before me. It is my day to tremble.
Mona gestures for me to take my place, and when I hesitate, the always dependable Tara shoves me. I unwillingly sidle to the head table and climb into the seat. I sit very still, trying to remain completely unnoticed as panic mounts and races through my body.
Mia is in the crowd, and I lock eyes with her, pleadingly. Sympathy is all I want from her, but she only smiles encouragingly and raises her cup. I
turn away, and a sadness hovers when I am reminded that she does not share my misery. Mia’s celebration was held three months ago. She was willing and longed to fulfill her womanly duty. She does not understand my resistance. My need to run as far away from this moment as I can get.
Over the past few months, I’ve listened patiently to all of Mia’s stories from the Pit. She offered information I didn’t want to hear in hopes of preparing me for what was to come. Smells and textures and sounds and all sorts of other unmentionable details. I listened politely, mostly in disgust. And still, none of it appeals to me. I have no desire to be mated. I have no desire to touch any male in the ways of Madam Belle’s lessons.
My education ended six months ago, along with these lessons. No longer did I have to sit piled with the other girls my age on long rugs in the cramped school room and endure hours of learning. In the beginning, while I was still in the nursery, my lessons were interesting enough. We learned simple arithmetic and a graceful vocabulary for communicating. Our rough, childish ways were blotted out with pretty, polite words and proper manners until we became young ladies fit for village life. But we were educated only as far at the Council deemed necessary. We don’t need to know much, after all, to fulfill our one duty for the community.
Our earliest education also included lessons on the Moirai: Clotho, the spinner, Lachesis, the measurer, and Atropos, the cutter of the thread—the Fates who weave out each life from beginning to end. These lessons had included studies of the stars—the constellations under which we all were born. I am defined by the eleventh month: Sagittarius—the Archer. To him, I am to yield all my desires. He, with the help of the Moirai, has determined my Fate, which the Council has revealed to me.
I admit I was curious once. I wondered many things about the Moirai: what they looked like; how they chose our paths; why they, the creators of our lifepaths, gave so much power to our star rulers? The Archer, after all, is a male. Why would the three sisters yield to his will when males brought nothing but devastation to our world? These were my quiet ponderings.
I have never learned the answers to these ever-relentless questions, and I fear I never will. My destiny hangs over my head in the form of sparkling stars. They tell me what is to become of me. Today, the stars ignite into reality, and I melt beneath them.
Later, the lessons changed depending on our Fate, and we were divided by class and assigned a teacher. Madam Belle fulfilled her duty to me as she had done for all other girls destined for the Pit, elaborating on the caresses that would be most useful, the words that could be spoken when necessary. I can still recall the breathy formation of her chantings echoing through me: “The use of the eyes is particularly important in seduction.” This she explained through demonstration, batting her lashes just so. I shake my head at the memory.
Many times I longed to be in one of the other classes. The hunters and the gardeners didn’t spend their lessons in a stuffy schoolroom. The fishers were taught how to swim as part of their preparation. Even the girls destined to be nannies at least had the privilege of working with the babies. And what did we get? Lessons of the most uncomfortable measures that filled me with uneasiness and left my stomach in knots. It mattered nothing to me that we were given the most important role—to bring forth the next generation. I wanted no part in it. And I had no desire to go anywhere near one of the stock.
What I wouldn’t give to know how to swim.
I’ve never been near a male older than the age of five, and this was many years ago when I was still living in the nursery. I concentrate on the women gathered at the tables, laughing, talking. Do they remember the nursery?
Mia’s mate is twenty—a man. I cannot fathom being alone with a man, let alone touching . . .
I shudder. Stop thinking, Kate. Stop thinking!
My thoughts are gratefully pierced by the shrill sound of the conch shell. The chattering among the women ceases, and the festivities begin.
First, Talia, one of the older and more experienced women, gives a speech. She takes her place on the platform to the side of my table and addresses the audience. I hear the words “young” and “beautiful.” I catch the phrase “duty to her people, and she will serve us well.” But this is all. My head pounds, and the aching in my chest is so strong I fear I’m on the verge of passing out. Talia’s words begin to blur together. I shrink deeper into my seat, willing the music to stop, the sun to fade, and my nightmare to end. I’m jerked back to attention when Talia says my name.
“Kate.”
I straighten on my throne, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“May the Archer continue to guide you on this chosen path, and may your blessings be complete.”
She raises her wooden cup high above her head. The long rows of women seated at each table do the same.
“Let it be so!” they shout in unison. “The Archer has spoken!”
The dancers take over and begin twirling, colorful scarves floating dreamily behind them. A pretty sight if I were not so miserable. They move provocatively in front of the Council table amid laughter and clapping. Someone passes the community wine cup until it reaches my table. The Council member beside me raises it.
“To your good health, long life, and quick motherhood, Kate.”
She takes a long, slurpy gulp before handing it to me. I nod at her, sip politely, and pass it to Mona. I don’t look at her.
A meal is served, and the women eat. The roasted boar is an elaborate dish to match the occasion—much more elaborate than what we eat daily—and it’s all for me. I cringe under the weight of the day. My food seems to shrivel, cold and untouched before me.
A slight tugging on my skirt, and I turn to see a tiny girl behind me. She stares up with big, brown eyes before extending a chubby hand. Her fist squeezes around a crumpled daisy. Several petals are missing, and the flower itself hangs limply from a broken stem.
“For you,” she says.
She stands unmoving with her unsolicited gift. She is a beautiful child, and my heart aches a little as I examine her. The voices hum all around us; clay dishes clank loudly against wood; laughter fills the clearing, grating against my ears. But in the midst of all the ugliness swirling around me, I behold this girl. And in one tiny gesture, I experience beauty for the first time today.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Kaia,” she says quietly. I smile.
I take her offering and press it to my nose. For an instant, I am able to block out everything else and take in the fragrance of this single, broken daisy.
“Thank you, Kaia,” I whisper.
When she smiles, I see that she’s missing her two front teeth. A nanny rushes up and whisks her away.
“I’m sorry, Kate.”
“No it’s—”
They are gone before I can answer, but I recognize the nanny. She braided my hair more than once in my younger days.
Mia makes her way to my table, and Mona gives her permission with her eyes to approach me.
“Hi,” she says.
I try to smile. I know none of this is her fault. No need for me to stay angry at Mia just because she’s accepted the role I have come to despise even before it begins. She is my friend, after all. The best friend I have.
“Are you enjoying your day?”
I glance at Mona. She’s preoccupied with Anna Maria, the Council member to her right. I face Mia.
“No. I’m not.”
The former light in Mia’s eyes extinguishes in an instant.
“Kate . . .” Her voice overflows with her usual unasked for and irritable encouragement. “It will be alright. See? I’m proof. I’ve survived this life, and you will, too.”
I sigh and look away.
“I don’t want to be a survivor, Mia. I want to be free to live.”
She creases her brow, not understanding what I mean. I sigh again. I don’t have the energy to try once more to explain my reasons to Mia. I’ve exhausted my explanations on many occasions. She simply doesn
’t see things the way I do. Not anymore. In fact, it’s been a very long time since Mia and I viewed anything through similar eyes. Her time in the Pit has distanced her from me. She is one of them now.
Beside me, Mona gestures for some of the seamstresses to bring in the clothing they’ve prepared for me, and I tighten my grip on the arms of my chair. Mia is ushered aside, and before I can protest, I’ve been yanked up and stripped naked right in front of the assembly. I stand in humiliated shock as I’m rubbed down with lilac and rosemary. The women wrap me in a flowing, white sarong that sends a fleeting sensation of admiration through me as it sparkles in the sunshine. One woman places a garland of freshly-woven flowers on my head, stepping back to smile at her handiwork. My hair has been loosened from its braid and cascades in a dark mass over my bare arms. The women nod in approval and admiration. I can’t fully appreciate the beauty of it. I stand numb and utterly sick with fear and overwhelming sadness.
My life is over.
I’ve hardly said a word the entire day, but no one seems to notice. No one is aware that my life, my hopes and dreams, what I want for myself, are disappearing as quickly as the food on the tables. I actually haven’t the slightest idea what my hopes and dreams are. I’ve never had the chance to find out, but I am certain this is not it.
When the women finish with their pampering, Mona stands and the clearing grows silent in utter respect. She raises her cup and bends her head toward me.
“Kate. Today you become a woman, and with this comes the potential of much honor.”
A cheer rings out, and Mona raises her hand for silence. Her next words are spoken more quietly and directed at me alone. “You have been taught the ways of seduction by the best of teachers.”