In the city of Vir girls are property, bred and raised to be the perfect wives. To serve and obey and honor the men that rule their city.
Elaia has always been content with her place in society. She is a perfect daughter, and with any luck she'll b...
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------- ELAIA -------
"We should definitely incorporate yellow, since it's your favorite color," I say.
"Whatever would make you happy, Elaia," Kres replies absently. He's been lost in his thoughts a lot lately and it's beginning to worry me.
"What about this color?" I ask, pointing to a deep, creamy shade of yellow.
"Yes, I like that one," he agrees, not actually looking at the color. We've been planning our wedding for almost three weeks, and Kres has hardly given any input.
I sigh. "What's wrong, Kres?" I ask, taking his hand in mine.
Finally, he meets my gaze. "Nothing is wrong, Elaia. Why do you ask?"
"You've been distant lately," I tell him. "Ever since the night you asked me to be yours, you've been acting strange."
Kres lets out a deep breath. "It's hard to put into words," he starts, smoothing back his red hair. "I've been thinking a lot lately about marrying you," he says.
Oh. He's going to tell me he doesn't want me to be his anymore. He's going to call everything off and abandon me. My chest seems to swell with emptiness. What will happen? What will Father think?
"You don't want to marry me anymore, do you?" I ask, casting my gaze to my lap. It's best if I just get it out there and get it over with. When I finally get up the courage to meet Kres' gaze again, I find that he is absolutely mortified.
"Of course I want to marry you, Elaia! Nothing is going to change that," he says, sounding panicked. "I would never abandon you."
Relief floods through me. But, if he's not breaking off our engagement, then what is bothering him so much? "What is it, then?" I ask, trying my best not to sound impatient.
Kres drags his fingers down his face in frustration. "After we get married our lives are going to change," he explains, sounding deathly serious.
"I'm aware of that," I reply gently, playing with his fingers in mine.
"I'm not sure you are" Kres replies, brushing his thumb over the thin gold band around my finger. It's a gesture I've come to adore over the past few weeks.
"Once we're married, you and I will be expected to take on different roles. You won't leave the estate very often. You'll be expected to bear children and raise them. And I'll be leaving the estate all the time. I have to prepare to take my father's place as the leader of our city," he continues, his tone downcast.
"We're hardly going to see each other," I realize with a pang of sadness.
Kres nods. "Because of the natural order, the world is a very different place for you than it is for me," he says. I think I see a single tear slide down his cheek, but I quickly realize that I must've imagined it. Men don't cry.
