I rolled my head to face him and, chasing my nerves away, replied, “Harmony.”
The prophet cocked his head to the side. Sarai glared at me. “You dare to tell him your name?” she asked, her sweet voice laced with the most potent venom. I suddenly saw why the prophet liked this girl. She was a child with the savage spirit of a twisted woman twice her age. Pretty but cruel. Prophet Cain looked up at her with pride. He looked at me, and his face became a mask of disdain.
Prophet Cain rose to his feet and slowly walked down the steps to stand before me again. I kept my head down, staring at the stone floor. His fingers landed under my chin and tilted my head up. My gaze found his brown eyes. There was absolutely no trace of kindness, nothing to make me believe our new prophet was a good man. “Tell me, Cursed. Why do you think I would want to know your name?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I did not respond. Prophet Cain lowered his face until it was opposite mine. He smiled, but it was a cold, demeaning sneer. “You are a product of the devil. You have been perfectly created for a single sinful purpose—to tempt pure and God-fearing men. Your name is nothing, just as you are nothing. You will be nothing until you are wed and I cleanse you of your innate immoral allurement. A prophet’s greatest battle is defeating the devil himself. The devil that created you as his vehicle to make good men fall.”
Prophet Cain stroked my cheek. “Even as I stand here now, I can feel your pull. I want you, devil’s whore. You are quite literally the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” My eyes widened as his eyes darkened with need. But quick as a snake, his hand drew back and sliced across my cheek. Taken off guard, I stumbled on the uneven stone floor. I fell, shielding my face from further strikes. He crouched down beside me. I flinched as he lifted his hand again . . . but all he did was push back his long brown hair.
“Your name is nothing to me, Cursed. And from now until the coming Armageddon, you will do well not to use that viper’s tongue around me. I will not tolerate insolence, especially from those born and designed to take me into sin.”
Prophet Cain signaled to Solomon and Samson. They crossed the room, and Samson dragged me to my feet. “Take her back to the cell,” the prophet ordered. “The wedding will be soon. Tell her guardians to make sure she is ready.”
“Yes, my lord,” Solomon replied. Without giving me time to cover my head or veil my face, they took me from the room and out of the mansion. We hurried down the gravel path and over the grass that took us back to the cellblock.
I rushed to keep up with their long strides, clutching my injured wrist to my chest. My cheek was swelling from Prophet Cain’s blow, but I ignored the pain. It was pushed aside by the abrupt truth of what was about to be my future. It had to happen. I knew it did, but it did not stop the fear of the difficult road that lay ahead.
I was going to be wed to that man. I could not bear to think of what that marriage would be like . . . of what my life would be . . . of what I would become, what he would make me—broken, worthless . . . the cursed woman he believed me to be. But I had to see it through. There was no other way.
Solomon and Samson took me back to my cell. I could hear Brother Stephen and Sister Ruth’s voices in the hallway, asking them what had happened to me. If the prophet had deemed me a Cursed.
I slumped down to sit on the hard floor. I closed my eyes as my head fell back against the stone wall that separated my cell from Rider’s. I winced as I tried to tend to my wrist, the pain forcing me to take short, panting breaths.
I looked down at the veil and headdress still clutched in my uninjured hand. I lifted the veil until it blocked the light streaming in from my window. Even though the material was light, it felt like a stifling mask of burden.
My cheek throbbed. I dropped the veil, watching the silky material flutter to the floor. I quickly picked it back up, knowing I had to wear it at all times.
“Harmony?” A hushed, rough voice was calling my name.
I tried to sniff back my emotions, but I could not stop the despair from chasing away my strength. “My name is nothing. Just as I am nothing.” My chest caved into a hollow pit as I replayed the meeting with the prophet in my mind.
“Harmony?” Rider said, louder and more firmly. “What happened? What is wrong?”
I dragged in the humid air through my dry lips and succumbed to the fear that had threatened me for days. “My name means nothing. I am devil-created, perfectly designed to make men sin. I am sin personified. I am the magnet to the evil that hides deep inside . . . ” I trailed off, almost choking on the words I didn’t want to say. But I did say them. The prophet had seen me. There was no mistaking the truth.
Inhaling one more time, I turned my head in the direction of the gap in the cement. “I am the devil’s greatest tool . . . I am a Cursed woman of Eve. The very worst creation on earth.”
Chapter Five
Styx
“ . . . and there’s the heartbeat.”
I stared at the screen to the side of Mae and watched as a tiny dot began to flutter. The sound of a rapid heartbeat filled the room.
I almost fucking burst apart.
My body didn’t move as I sat, leaning forward, Mae’s hand wrapped tightly in mine. I focused on the tiny outline of our baby’s body.
I couldn’t fucking move.
“River,” Mae whispered, bringing our joined hands to her mouth. I blinked and blinked again as my vision blurred. Coughing, I turned to Mae, only to see her wolf eyes flooded with tears.
Real happy fucking tears.