Page 38 of Ruinous Need
LISETTE
“EVERYONE IN THAT hall is going to know I don’t want to do this.”
I spit the words at Daria.
She pins my hands behind my back while another woman, who looks terrified at my rage, applies makeup.
My hair is in a braided updo, curling around my head in a crown, that took them hours to complete while I struggled and fought.
This is their third attempt at doing my makeup after my tears washed the previous ones away.
“You might be able to force me onto that altar, but you can’t force me to look happy about it.” My voice is hoarse from crying.
“But we can, Lisette. Your family will be seated in the front row. Behind them will be a row of guards with loaded guns. If you don’t go through with this, with a smile on your face, that’s a death sentence for all of them.”
“That’s not part of the deal.”
“With your family’s lives in his hands, Semyon can negotiate any deal he wants with you.” Her face cracks into a cruel smile, like she’s proud of him for doing this to me.
Daria, who I thought I knew, has turned out to be one of my cruel captors.
It turns out that the whole time I thought she was nervous about my safety, she was texting Semyon, feeding him information that he used to find us.
She talks about Semyon like he’s some great genius for thinking up this plan to spark a war over me and seize control of the city.
I think she’s ridiculous.
I don’t know what she thinks she’s getting out of this, but she seems to relish in my suffering. I guess the times when I thought she was my friend were just an act.
She mocks me for being lazy when the ongoing effects of hypothermia make it hard to stay awake or move around. I still get bouts of shivering which I can’t control.
“So, this is the lovely bride? Hello and congratulations, dear.”
The priest is a kind-looking man with a round belly and a bald head. He wears an elaborate golden robe.
I tried to signal to him with my eyes that I don’t want to be here, but he turns away with a tight smile. I know little about the Russian Orthodox Church, but I assume they require marriages to be consensual.
Most churches wouldn’t approve of killing my family members on sacred ground, anyway. He just pets my head and ignores the handcuffs that keep me secured to the makeup table while he explains what will happen at the ceremony.
I look at my reflection. They’ve put on so much makeup that I look like a painted doll. They’ve even stuck on false eyelashes, which keep falling off when I cry.
There’s only an hour left, and I’m still hoping that Viktor has some kind of plan to stop this.
Daria sees me looking out the window.
“Thinking that Viktor’s going to be here to save you? Haven’t you heard? He’s dead.”
Her voice is cruel and mocking, and it takes a second for the words to sink in.
Dead. I don’t know why I would’ve assumed he was still alive. This is the first mention of his name since I was captured. Despite my constant questions about him, to anyone who might have the potential to know something, they’ve kept quiet.
The news doesn’t sink in, not really. I just feel dumb for clinging to hope.
Daria studies my face closely, as though she was hoping for a dramatic reaction.
Viktor’s death doesn’t feel like pain, it feels like nothingness. I withdraw into myself, my face drying of tears.
It’s how I felt before, when I thought there was no chance for me outside of this marriage. I sink back into that feeling. There’s something comforting about accepting my fate, letting this poisonous riptide sweep me out to sea until I’m nothing at all.
The fight fades away from me. I let them fuss over me, making me up, and pulling me into a scratchy white frilly dress that makes me look like a wedding cake.
The Chosen One, ready to be sacrificed.