“Daddy!” she hugs my neck and leans her slight weight toward Isabelle so I have no choice but to let her hug Isabelle into our little circle that has been two for all her life. Now made three.
I consider this as I feel her little arms squeeze us tight. What will she expect now? What does she think this makes Isabelle?
I hadn’t wanted to bring Angelique tonight. Hadn’t wanted to mention a wedding at all. It has nothing to do with her. This marriage is a means to an end. And when that end comes…
I look at Isabelle once Angelique releases us.
When that end comes, I’ll deal with the consequences. I’ll rearrange the pieces for Angelique then.
I set Angelique down as my mother steps toward us and, after kissing her on the top of her head, I hand her over to my mother.
“You’ll come home. You promised,” she says to Isabelle.
Isabelle crouches down to kiss her cheek. “I promised and I always keep my promises.”
My mother takes her as Isabelle straightens and the two of them exchange a look. Two generations of women given to Society men. One knows what is coming. The other is still innocent. But not for long.
My mother gives Isabelle an almost imperceptible nod. I’m confused by this and glance at Isabelle whose expression is unreadable.
Courage I think she’s saying.
I won’t use the irons. My mother suffered more than Isabelle will.
Isabelle gazes softly down once more to my daughter but when her eyes land on me, she adjusts her features as if putting on armor. I’ve done that, I remind myself. Made her terrified of me within a few days of knowing me.
I tug her toward me. “What did you promise Angelique?”
“Only to kiss her goodnight,” she says.
“Take care with your promises to my daughter.”
Her eyes search mine as she takes this in.
The procession of guests makes their way toward us, and I turn my attention to them. I paste a neutral look on my face as the men, all upper echelon members who, I’m sure would rather not have been in attendance considering I’m not like them. Not blood. They line up to congratulate me. I shake hands as the thought circles. I am not one of them. I will never be one of them. My father may have bought our entry tickets, but you can’t fake blood.
I don’t give a fuck, though. My father used to, and I saw what it did to him, that wanting to belong where you don’t belong. Wanting to be where you’re simply not wanted.
Once that majority of witnesses has gone, the only men left are Zeke, Santiago De La Rosa, Judge and Hildebrand along with his two personal guards.
Isabelle moves closer to me as Santiago approaches, and I realize it’s her first time seeing the man with the half-skull face tattoo. Judge, no less menacing with his height and build, stands at his side. Judge acknowledges Isabelle with a nod while Santiago studies her a moment longer.
“Congratulations,” he says to her.
“Thank you,” she mutters. I think it’s automatic. And I am not sure she’s blinked as she tries hard not to stare at death staring back at her. He enjoys this, I think. Relishes the discomfort people must feel at the sight of him. I respect him more for it.
“Shall we move downstairs, gentlemen? I believe this is our entourage,” Hildebrand mutters.
“What’s downstairs?” Isabelle asks once everyone files out toward a door at the opposite end of the one that leads to the courtyard.
It’s not really downstairs. More a space between the chapel and the Tribunal building carved from stone that leads to a tunnel connecting chapel, Tribunal and the main compound buildings. It also leads to the cells housed beneath the Councilors chambers. It is said this was done because due to the design, sound carries up to their quarters. And the Councilors of The Tribunal have a bloody history.
“It’s where the marking ceremony will take place.”
“Marking?” she asks, not moving when I mean to follow the others as Hildebrand’s guards hold the door open.
I turn to face her. “I told you last night. You’ll wear my mark.”
“What does that mean exactly?” she asks, pulling back.