He grunted, sounding unsure of that. "And what exactly do you plan to read?"

I tried to choose my words carefully. "Anything you let me? I'm afraid knitting has never been something I excel at."

"Crochet? You should have a hobby that is at least useful," he informed me.

One more time, I sighed, because his answer meant books wouldn't be allowed in my future. "Needlepoint, then, or weaving. And I assume you will support me assisting the hunters in the infirmary?"

"Oh yes," he agreed. "That was actually what made me take note of you, Miss Ross." He smiled, but the look didn't put me at ease. "I heard you've saved many of our young men."

"I have."

That made him lift a brow again. "Is that pride I hear?" His tone held a warning.

"No, Mr. Morgan," I assured him. "It is a fact. God has gifted me with a talent for keeping our Righteous hunters alive, and I am eternally grateful for it."

"Better," he said, his pale blue eyes boring into me as if he could control my mouth with his will alone.

So I decided to change the subject. "And how long have you been widowed?"

"Two years."

A thought trickled into the back of my head. "How old is your son?"

He laughed softly. "Twenty-one, but his mother was your father's first cousin. I'm sorry."

"I see. And the consummation?"

Callah sucked in a breath, the only sign of her still in the room. Thankfully, Mr. Morgan completely ignored her.

"Direct." He crossed his arms over his chest, looking rather unimpressed. "I assure you, Miss Ross, our marriage will be consummated on our wedding night."

"Whether I want to or not," I mumbled.

The words were barely out of my mouth before he reached over and slapped me. "I will not tolerate such an attitude from my wife."

I flinched. Callah gasped again, louder this time. Sadly, I wasn't exactly surprised. My comment had been all but begging for punishment. This man had a reputation for keeping his wives under his thumb. If I still had two days, then I needed to think of some way to protect myself, and fast.

So, I took a deep breath and looked up at him. Mr. Morgan hadn't hit me hard, but it had been solid enough to get the point across. Hard enough to make my skin burn, proving there was likely a red mark across my cheek.

Now it was time to make my own point. "Mr. Morgan, I assure you I may hit back."

His jaw clenched as the man struggled to control his anger. "You think so? Miss Ross, you will only try that once. I do not tolerate insolence in women. I don't care about the curse your mother suffered from. Tomorrow, you will walk with me. I'll leave you to sulk like a child tonight."

I nodded, refusing to be offended at his comment.

The man merely pulled in a hard breath, making it clear I wasn't supposed to have agreed. Most likely, he'd hoped his snide remark would make me back down. It wouldn't. I simply couldn't. Maybe being meek and dutiful would be safer, but this? Deciding if I would give my life to this man? It wasn't the sort of thing to do timidly.

But when I said nothing else, Mr. Morgan stepped out of my room and slammed the door behind him. The moment he was gone, I reached up to check the side of my face. The skin stung, but most likely wouldn't bruise. He hadn't hit me quite that hard. Clearly, he was trying to prove what a "good catch" he was.

But if this man was a "good catch," then what else did I have to lose? Life with him wouldn't be happy. It certainly wouldn't be loving. Maybe I'd have children, but only until he grew tired of them and sent them to live with others their age here in the children's wing.

So what did I really have to look forward to?

For women, happiness wasn't something we were allowed. Contributions were what we should take joy in. How much we could sacrifice for others was our purpose. My life wasn't worth as much as a man's - or even my children's. As soon as I was legally wed to this man, my purpose would be met, and all that was left was the dying. Was there really any reason to prolong it?

Callah gently removed my hand from my cheek, proving she'd come to check on me. Leaning in to look at the mark, she shook her head. "You can't marry him, Ayla."

All I could do was lick my lips as my mind continued to spin. She was right. I knew she was, but I didn't have any choice. The Council had chosen. My other options were just as bad, if not worse. No matter how hard I thought, I simply couldn't figure out a way to get out of this.

And my eyes were starting to sting.

"What am I supposed to do?" I breathed.

Callah clasped my hands between us, kneeling down until she was crouched before me. "Be meek, Ayla. Be quiet, submissive, subservient, and as dutiful as possible. Think your thoughts, but hold them in. As a married woman, maybe you'll even be able to see Meri? Then the two of you can take care of each other again."

"But what about you?" I asked.

She smiled, but the look was sad. "I have a few more months. No matter what, I will be on my own." Then she chuckled. "I dunno, maybe I'll even learn how to climb?"

"It's twelve steps from the bend to the covered door," I told her. "The vent opening is just above."

"I'll find it," she swore. "And every time the hunters come back, I'll be in the infirmary. If Mr. Morgan is proud of your healing skills, he won't keep you from it the way Gideon does with Meri, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"So you can make this work," she told me. "Ayla, you can - if that's what you want."

And that was the problem. I knew I could. I'd spent my entire life saying nothing, smiling pleasantly, and keeping my eyes down. I was good at it - but it hadn't changed anything. In twenty years, I hadn't found the happiness that was supposed to come with being a dutiful woman. Instead, I'd only found more and more misery.

"But what if it's not?" I asked, my words much too soft.

Her pale green eyes jumped up and met my blue ones. She didn't answer. She also didn't need to. We'd just talked about this. We'd been talking about it. Over and over, it was the one subject that neither of us could let go, and it had filled this room almost every night before we found sleep.

This was a woman's place. Punishment was a man's right. As a wife, I was his possession to do with as he would, even kill if necessary. It didn't matter if death came in childbirth or from the back of his hand. The moment I vowed to obey, I gave away the last control of my life.

Or I could do the dumbest thing ever.

"Callah..." I breathed.

"I love you, Ayla," she said. "You were the sister I always wanted. You and Meri both. We are a family, no matter what, and I believe in you. Maybe I don't always believe in God, or the Devil, or our purpose for being here, but every time I bow my head?" She blinked away the moisture growing in her eyes. "I pray for us. I pray we will find a better way. That we will figure out how to survive this Hell! Because what is this place if not the Pit itself? Locked underground?"

"You think we're in Hell?" I asked.

She nodded her head vigorously. "It has to be. All we do is suffer, over and over. This? Here? It's the Hell for women, and if there’s any way to escape it, then shouldn't we try? I just don't know if the escape will come from giving in like Meri did or from pushing back the way you always do."

"I don't," I tried to tell her.

But she just gave me a tired look. "You do, Ayla. You push at the rules. That's why you found the library. It's why you read the books and then told us about them. You aren't satisfied with giving up, not even when your future husband comes to introduce himself! You pushed. You nettled him! You all but forced him to punish you, because I was in the room and he couldn't have a witness to that."