Page 13 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

T he oil is cool, soothing as the two women slowly cover my entire body with it.

I was brought to the Cathedral hours ago and was bathed, and cleaned, and had every bit of dirt they could find removed from my body.

They scraped under my nails, scrubbed my skin raw, even made me take a tube up my arse where they flushed me full of water to “clean me out” – that was the most humiliating bit.

To stand there, to feel my abdomen swelling and then be forced to wait until I was finally allowed to rush to the toilet.

And all of it was under their watchful gaze.

My mother isn’t here. I expected her to be, but they made sure to send her packing the moment we arrived. Oh, she tried to argue but for what must be the first time in her life, she was told no.

It makes this worse. Not that her presence is particularly comforting, but I know no one here.

The chamber we’re in is old, pretty, with medieval artwork and intricate tapestries covered in our Brethren emblems, adorning the walls.

Images of angels and saints stare down at us, with all the gilding illuminated by the candles.

The air is thick with an incense I can’t place.

It’s almost suffocating and more than once I have to stop myself from falling into a full coughing fit.

The women huff whenever I do this, as if I’m being intentionally difficult, but I’m really not meaning too. I have asthma. Not bad asthma, but they won’t let me get my inhaler, saying it will undo all their hard work, which makes no sense.

I draw in a low breath, trying to calm my nerves. There’s a tiny voice in my head telling me to say I need the toilet or something and just run and run and not look back.

But that’s a stupid idea, a stupid thought.

This here, is my future, the only future I will have.

I’m not so na?ve as to believe that I have any chance of escaping, and besides, Gunther maybe old, he may not be the man I would have chosen, but at least now I will be a wife, I will have the chance to bear children of my own.

My heart leaps a tiny bit at that. I want my own family, I want my own home.

And Gunther is also powerful enough to ensure my uncle won’t be able to play his games anymore.

I’m certain, if I’m a good wife, if I do as he asks, if I am obedient and good to him, then he will be good to me too. Maybe I can flip the script, outsmart my uncle, and find my own power instead. There’s little hope of it, but that is all I have now; hope.

“Ten minutes,” Someone says from beyond the door.

I turn my head, staring at the solid wood, and clench my fists. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and then my life as I know it will be over. I’ll be a new person. Born again in the eyes of the Brethren.

I step into the delicate silk tunic they hold for me.

It’s traditional, and it hangs more like a sheet.

I didn’t get to choose it; I wasn’t allowed to choose anything.

My hair has already been tied out of the way in an intricate French braid.

Unlike other brides, I’m not permitted to wear makeup, or jewellery.

I’m to appear unadorned by worldly goods.

I glance across at the polished mirror and for a second I don’t even recognise myself. I look too calm, too collected, for all the feelings that are whirling away inside me.

I can do this. I can be this person.

No one needs to know that I’m nervous. I just have to walk out, keep my eyes down and let everyone around me take charge.

A veil is placed over my head. It’s plain, more like a shroud than a real veil. It covers my face, my features, making me look like a ghost instead of a person.

“Let’s go.” The taller of the two women says brightly, striding to the door and opening it.

I duck my eyes, stepping out, and I can see the robes of the two priests waiting for me. We walk with one in front, and one behind, both of them waving thurible’s that fill the air with a thick stench of that same incense.

It almost burns my lungs as I take each step and I do everything I can to slow my breathing, to take as little air as I can.

The hallway is cramped. The walls around us are made from great stone blocks that rise up, sweeping into great archways above our head.

This part of the building used to belong to a monastery, before they had all the nuns shipped out to make more space.

I know this cathedral is old. I know it was built back when the Normans invaded.

It was meant to be a declaration of our power, our prestige, my ancestors, my bloodline, my family are directly responsible for its existence.

It’s strange to be walking these halls, moving about in a space with so much history.

There’s a spiral staircase ahead. It’s made of the same heavy stone as the walls, and I have to slow my steps to ensure I don’t accidentally trip and go tumbling down into the priest before me.

As we make our way, I can hear it, the voices, the chatter from all the people sat waiting, all the attendees invited to witness our union.

I think that alone makes me more nervous, I’m not comfortable in crowds, in front of strangers.

I’ve spent most of my life locked away, I don’t know how my mother ever expected me to be otherwise continuing the way she brought me up.

When we reach the bottom, the Senate is stood, all robed up in their red gowns and masks. I hate those masks. I don’t know what it is about them, but they put the fear of God into me.

I’m beckoned on. No one actually speaks a word, but I don’t need them to. There’s only one place to go, and with them all surrounding me, there’s no way to escape this.

The Senate starts humming, the sound echoes off the walls and sounds haunting enough that my skin erupts into goosebumps.

I want this over with. I want this done. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I dare to glance up and then curse myself as I realise that I’m right at the entrance now. The Cathedral is filled, everyone is wearing robes, every face is covered – every face except the Chapter Guards, but I don’t look at them.

Fear seems to wrap itself around me and it feels like every step is now a battle I have to fight.

Ahead, so far ahead, is Gunther. I can just about make out his figure, stood, waiting. He’s the only other person dressed in white. He looks almost like a god from the way he’s positioned by the altar.

I know my uncle is here somewhere. I know he is watching this. I wonder if he really is as proud in this moment of me as he professes to be. Or will he even now see my faults? Will he spot the bags under my eyes, will he see the way my feet shuffle, the way I’m a little too stiff?

There’s a great crucifix. It’s made of solid granite, and it’s laid out so that a person can be tied to it.

It’s big enough that even the tallest of men would look tiny as they were strapped to it.

My stomach drops as we get closer, my throat tightens even more.

I can see the white fabric laid across the bottom half and I know soon enough that same material will be smeared with my blood.

My eyes take in the marks, the scuffs, all the wear and tear of the stone tiles beneath our feet.

I count each step as if that might help to ground me.

One step. Two step, three… I lose count, then start again, trying to keep my facial expression as serene as possible because I don’t want anyone to see the inner turmoil raging inside me.

Around me, the Senate separate. I immediately come to a stop as they do it.

Their hums continue but they move to circle the crucifix and in turn, surround both me and Gunther.

The two priests with their incense move to the head and foot and they continue to fill the air as if that alone will purify us all and purge us of our sins.

Gunther steps up to me. I haven’t looked at him. I haven’t dared. I kept my eyes down, just as a dutiful Lady is expected to. He reaches out, grasping my chin through the veil and he lifts my head enough to give him a full view of my face.

“Beautiful,” He murmurs.

I shouldn’t blush. I know I shouldn’t, but I want to make this man happy, that’s my role, isn’t it? That’s my purpose.

“No smile for your husband?” He asks.

I blink back, wondering if I’ve messed up already and I give him a shy, bashful smile that seems to make him happy enough that he leans in and kisses me. His lips brush against the fabric of the veil and I gasp more in shock than anything else.

We’re not married yet. We’re not yet husband and wife. I don’t know what the thousands of eyes watching us must think of this breach, but I stare back at him trying to work out if he’s mad or simply drunk?

His eyes sparkle with amusement, it’s as if he’s made some joke, only I don’t understand it.

The rules are simple. The rules are there for all of us to abide by.

But then, he’s already pissing all over them by marrying me, isn’t he?

Not that most of these people sat here are aware of that fact.

They know my family are of high status, but they don’t know I’m a Founder. It’s forbidden for them to know.

Gunther takes my arm, leading me to the crucifix and I’m pushed down, laid out on it like I don’t have a choice in the matter.

The cold stone sends a shock through me where my upper body makes contact.

So much so that I don’t at first register what is happening.

That Gunther is yanking up the fabric of my dress, roughly exposing my entire lower half.

I try to stifle a cry, but it comes out anyway, ringing around me loud enough that all those masks closest to us must hear.

A priest kneels between my legs. Gunther is to my left and he’s holding my stomach, placing a hand on me to ensure I’m obedient in this.