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“A special group selected from the donums.”

Okay, thatisnew.

Halfway down the hall, Margaret touches my arm, drawing me to a stop. “Imogene, I know the last few weeks have been a challenge.”

I snort. “That’s an understatement.”

“I know it’s been a challenge,” she repeats, “but now that Anex has accepted your Reeducation, it’s time to release the anger and hostility you’ve been carrying.” Her thumb runs gently over my arm. “This is your second chance. Make the most of it.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, heading for the doors. The guards open them and step aside, allowing us to enter. I cross the threshold, but stop instantly, taking in the wing. It’s not like the rest of the house, a maze of hallways and closed doors. This area is large with glass walls and ceilings. The air is humid, and green leafy trees grow in every corner. A circular clear pool is in the center of the space.

“What is this?” I ask, stunned at the sight. How can Serendee have so many unknown rooms? Every day it’s like a new layer of this place is stripped away and something new is revealed.

“Anex calls it the Cleansing Room. It’s to be used before important ceremonies, or in times of transition.”

Laughter across the room catches my attention, and I see a group I knew in the donum—the other girls Ordered the same day I was. They’re all wearing white robes embroidered with flowers along the hem.

Maria is among them, her pregnancy now showing and pushing against the fabric of her robe. It hurts to look at her, knowing she’s the one that betrayed me to Anex by telling him about the love mark Silas left on my neck.

I hesitate. “I don’t think they’ll want to be with me.”

“Everyone that enters this room comes at Anex’s request. This is a place of repurification. Where Regressions are washed away, and your body and soul are realigned for Enlightenment.” She touches my face gently. “You are Chosen, Imogene. You are special. They will accept you because it is Anex’s will.”

Not one word of that makes me feel better.

“Come,” Margaret says. “It’s time to start your Preparation and I have a surprise.”

She gestures toward a small room off the solarium and a line of women in dark gray dresses file out. I spot Clarissa, my house mother from the donum. She gives me a small smile when she sees me and walks over.

“Clarissa will attend to your needs during your Preparations.” Margaret smiles warmly. “I thought it may be nice to have a familiar face during this.”

I relax, marginally. At least she’s not Healer Bloom, or Margaret herself. Clarissa may believe in The Way and everything that comes from the journey to Enlightenment, but at least she’s not a monster.

At least, I don’t think she is.

“We lift these women to The Way. Asking for cleansing and purification of every cell in their bodies, their spirit, and nature. Return them to completeness in preparation for their service to Serendee.”

Margaret stands at the end of a narrow, tiled, passage—shower heads mounted to the ceiling. Quickly, I learn that the cleansing part of this is literal. We’d stripped and had our foreheads anointed with oil. Then we filed into the shower room, where we receive Margaret’s blessing, bare as the day we were born, skin gooseflesh from the cool air.

With her hand on a lever, her words echo off the floors and walls.

“May the powers that guide us to Enlightenment be with each and every one of these women as they prepare themselves for their mate.”

She flips the handle and a hard, hot, stream falls from the showerheads, pounding painfully into our skin as if it’s trying to strip off a layer of flesh.

Then we’re scrubbed down by our attendant. I can’t help but notice the way Clarissa’s eyes linger on the brand, her touch careful as she makes sure not to tug on the last few scabs.

She’s not the only one that notices the mark, curious eyes watching as my skin turns pink. As abruptly as it started, the water stops, and we’re shuffled out of the shower and wrapped in thick towels.

From there it’s mostly hair removal—trimming, plucking, shaving, waxing. By the time it’s over I’d almost wish for another branding. At least that was fast.

It’s dark when we’re brought to an outdoor patio. There’s a firepit in the middle, the heat of the blaze hot on my overworked and sensitive skin. Scrubbed, plucked, and robbed, we take a seat on one of the soft pillows and receive a cup of tea. Everyone looks relaxed and at peace. Holding the warm cup between my fingers, I feel nothing but anxiety. The last time I was with a group of women like this, I was held down and branded.

A woman, Nadine, who was one of our health and body teachers in school draws our attention. She’s in her educator’s dress, dark blue with cream trim.

“Seeing you all here today is like coming full circle,” she says, the flames dancing across her face. “I remember teaching you the fundamentals of hygiene and how to manage your cycles and document your caloric intake for your food logs. Together we learned how to care for your bodies while honoring The Way. All the pieces of developing into a young woman in Serendee.” I remember other lessons too—about graciously receiving Corrections for any transgressions. “And now you are about to be mated, and you need to learn about that, too.”

Every girl leans forward, eager to learn the secrets of men from this woman.