Despite all that could go wrong, and despite everything I had just discovered, I smiled. Because that was Harmony. Fearless and strong.
I sat back in my seat and took three deep breaths. As I did, I felt the tiredness I should have embraced hours ago weaken my limbs. I pushed myself to my feet. “I am going to sleep.” Sadness washed over me when I thought of Harmony in my cell. Every second I was with her, I wanted more and more time with her. I had only known her a short time, but in that time, I had been more my true self than I had ever been in my life. When I was living with the Hangmen, I had once read that the important thing wasn’t the number of minutes you spent with someone, but the quality of realness those minutes held. Every moment I had spent with Harmony saw a dead part of me being reborn. As I held her hand through the gap, as I stared into her dark eyes, she was placing herself into my soul.
It pained me that our time was finite. My heart ached at the thought of not having her by my side. So I decided that I would cherish what time I had left. I began to move my feet, my heavy limbs leading me toward where Harmony slept. Brother Stephen moved to block my path. I jerked my head up to see what he wanted. “Cain,” he said, his voice barely audible. He gripped my upper arm. His face was ashen, and I could see that something was troubling him. “Before you leave, there is something else you should know.”
I tipped my head, indicating for him to speak.
And I listened.
I listened to what he had to say, not missing once single piece of information . . . and all the while I stood there, unmoving . . .
. . . in complete and utter fucking shock.
Chapter Ten
Harmony
Five days later . . .
The scents of vanilla and lavender oils being poured onto my skin brought a nauseous feeling to my stomach. I kept my eyes to the ground as Sarai roughly applied the perfume, her fingers digging into my skin. I could feel her intense blue gaze boring into my bowed head, but I kept calm. I would not let a girl of her age intimidate me.
Another sister, whose name I did not know, braided two front sections of my hair, then pulled them back from my face. My face and body were still and stoic, but my heart was racing like a duck’s legs swimming frantically under water.
It was fear, pure and undiluted fear.
Today was the day of my wedding to Prophet Cain. Despite the many days counting down to this moment, I could not believe that I was really here. I could not believe that after everything I had already been through at the hands of this faith, I was in this commune, willingly placing myself in this position.
But it had to be done. For the sake of us all.
I inhaled deeply through my nose, exhaling slowly through my mouth to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. My eyes closed of their own accord and I could not help but picture what this wedding would be like.
People. So many people who knew nothing of my existence would today see me wed the prophet. A man I had only met once . . . a man I was told would not see me again until our wedding because I tempted him too much. They would see him take me on the ceremonial bed. They would watch me through the gauze curtain, being taken against my will by the prophet.
And they would do nothing about it. They would praise the Lord for its occurrence.
Disgust swirled within me when I pictured the prophet’s face, but that disgust switched to warmth when I immediately thought of Rider. I never thought of Rider as Prophet Cain. Prophet Cain was a cruel man lording his power over innocent people, convincing them to bend to his will. Rider was a kind, gentle, but tortured, soul. I fought back the smile from my lips as I let my mind drift back over the past five days. When I had awoken the morning after Rider had revealed his true identity to me, I was in his arms. I, Harmony, was cradled to his chest like a contented lover, his large, strong arms keeping me to his side as though he was terrified I would leave.
No man had ever treated me the way he had, staring down into my eyes as I lifted my head to stare up into his. His hand slowly stroked down the side of my face, only stopping to let his fingertips drift over my kiss-swollen lips. His every touch was an answered prayer, the childhood prayer I had refused to ever let wane—that I would be wanted by somebody . . . loved for me and me alone. The wish that every Cursed Sister begs God for, but one that is never answered.
I had held my breath, seeing the undisguised affection he held for me in his dark eyes . . . but seeing the internal struggle he was fighting too. My smile fell. If there was ever a man who physically represented a torn soul, it was Rider. He was two sides of the same coin, a man straddling a barrier only known in his heart. Any mention of his brother caused a visible pain to settle on his face. Any mention of the sins he said he’d committed as prophet struck him as hard as any physical blow. If his hand happened to be in mine, it would always squeeze a little more. I had no idea what he had done to make him hate himself so badly. I could not believe this man was capable of doing anything wrong or untoward. His heart was pure.
His heart was true.
I wanted to help him, but I had no idea how. Rider kept so much back that I knew my knowledge of him was barely scratching the surface. I wanted him to let me in, but he had not let me get that far, always keeping me in a perpetual place of warmth, of happiness. He never let any darkness into our small haven of solace.
He had made it our very own sanctuary.
He knew who we were now. And he knew the reason why we had come back. He never said much about it. But I could see that what I had committed to do pained him.