Daughters of the King |✓|

Chapter Eighteen

It took us two days to drive as far north as the cars could take us, to the City of Clouds—the factory district populated almost entirely by machines and responsible for the production and distributions of goods. Once there, we met with a train that would carry us the remaining distance to the edge of the continent—practically the edge of the world—into remote territory.

We'd prepared well for the harsh weather, but I was still unaccustomed to the air and the way it bit at my cheeks when we stepped out of the car, even though I was wrapped in warm furs and a thick fabric scarf that hid my face. The coat I'd been given reached my ankles and draped tightly across my torso, belted at the waist by thick leather straps. I was grateful for its length and warmth every time the wind hit us sideways, howling like a wolf, whipping my long hair in my face.

The train we were taking was the oldest I'd ever seen, but it was the only method of transportation into this rough part of the country. It looked fake, almost like a toy train, or like the kind you only saw in old pictures and history books. When we boarded, the passenger cart consisted of benches with cushioned seats all lined up and squeezed together for maximum capacity, allowing just enough room down the middle to pass in between.

This alone betrayed the age of the locomotive, because maximum capacity wasn't an issue anymore.

I kept my scarf high up my nose to shield my face as a makeshift veil, since we were in public now, and obediently followed the flutter of my mother's coat as she lead the way to the seats nearest the front.

The others lingered an appropriate distance at the back, as a gesture of respect. I glanced behind me and caught Zelle's eye, and she looked like she was smiling at me from behind her own scarf. I believe the smile was meant to let me know she wasn't offended—that she didn't mind sitting at the back, an otherwise unkind reminder of her status—but it did little to comfort me. Zelle knew her place and relished it, even felt honored by it, but I found all these customs and rules confusing and unnatural.

My mother only spoke once the train had departed from the station, keeping her gaze averted so it wouldn't look like we were talking. The train clattered noisily down the track as we gained speed, much slower and much louder than any I'd been on before. My mother's voice probably wouldn't carry to the rows of seats behind us, allowing for a brief moment of privacy.

"Olya, I've been thinking. I've decided I want to arrange a marriage for you with a major. Besides members of the royal family, anyone within the military holds the highest status, and that's the sort of union that would be most advantageous for you." She spoke quickly and efficiently. I could almost hear the gears in her brain working at top speed like a well-oiled machine, cold and calculating. Or perhaps it was more like snakes up there in that pretty head of hers, coiling and hissing, mouths full of fangs. "Despite what you might see on the Black Channel these days, the country is on the brink of another war, and until things settle down there won't be any idle doctors. No available physicians to do a medical examination. We can get you married good and quick, which will secure you a position in the New Society the king and I are working hard to build. You'll be revealed as barren eventually, of course, but by then it will be too late."

She turned to look at me briefly and smiled from behind her veil, before turning towards the window again. Then she said, very quietly, "You see? I didn't forget you."

"Won't they accuse me of lying?" I argued, "and then execute me?"

Her eyes widened, like I was being too vulgar. "Just pretend you didn't know."

She thought she was doing me a favor, and I might have thanked her, if it weren't for the fact I despised having my decisions made for me. But I had no options left. She'd trapped me by bringing me into this society on the backs of lies. Lies I now had to live with.