Page 98 of A Sin So Pure

My gaze locks on a ten-year-old Josie; while her stare is perfectly blank, every time the leather strikes my skin, her fingers twitch. It’s her tell.

The red welts heal over only to be replaced by two more.

While she hasn’t been in the chair, she’s been at the mercy of Pride’s tests for as long as I. She knows she’s lucky she doesn’t need to train her mind. She’s already powerful enough to break past his shields if she wanted to—though she hasn’t told him that.

She told me, though.

We keep each other’s secrets, Josie and I.

At night, we sneak into the kitchen and steal leftover bread from supper, toasting it over the hearth in my room. Sometimes, we hide in the room next to Pride’s office, and we press our ears to the vents, straining to hear what he says to the other Houses. We’re too young to be included—we haven’t passed our test of loyalty yet.

And once, even when Pride told us not to, we showed each other our wings. Hers were black as night. The feathers were soft as velvet under my fingertips.

She didn’t want to touch mine, but that’s okay.

We pinky promised we wouldn’t show anyone else. We were sisters then. Not by blood, but by choice.

Josie shakes her head, and Pride sighs. Fatigue weighs me down, my eyelids heavy, but I can’t lose consciousness, or this will go on longer.

“I can still get past,” Josie says. “They fall as easily as blowing down a tower of cards.”

“Nora,” Pride scolds. “You must learn to keep your mental shields up and strong.”

“I’m trying.” My voice is hoarse from screaming.

“Try harder,” he says. And strikes again.

Pride thinks that if I can manage blocking Josie while in pain, no one could ever break through my barriers.

Hours later, when it’s done and I’ve passed to his satisfaction, I slump in my bindings. My lids fall closed—I have no strength left to keep them open.

Josie comes closer; I’m lifted from the chair and cradled in tiny arms on the cold floor.

Josie holds me.

I know she thinks that tears will come, but I have no tears left to shed. Especially not for myself. I’ll let the sky pity me, cry for me.

I didn’t choose to go down this path, but I choose to walk it now.

The scene shifts, the hazy world of memories and dreams tilting around me.

The scars on my back tingle—the phantom pains berate me.

I blink; this time, I’m not in my body. I watch on, a ghost haunting my own memory.

I don’t see two ten-year-olds cradling each other in a dank concrete cellar, but two sixteen-year-olds, kneeling side by side. They’re too young to be sacrificing such an intimate part of themselves for the trust of one man.

“You wish to pledge yourselves to House Pride?” he asks. His voice echoes through the cellar, an ancient rumble. “Once you do this, your loyalty to this House will be absolute. You will tie yourself to House Pride until death.”

Josie’s lips move, then mine utter the same pledge, though I can’t hear the words. The dream is silent save for Pride’s voice, deep and cavernous.

My wings are pierced through with iron. Blood runs down my back, twin rivers bracketing my spine. These are wounds that will scar; the iron blades mark us as survivors.

I scream when he hacks at my back—I don’t mean to, but the pain is blinding. I see white, my whole world a blank piece of parchment.

Josie grips my hand, and I grip hers, nails digging divots into her palm.

And when the wounds have clotted and my back is bandaged, I stand on shaky legs. I glance down at Josie, and she stares up at me. She nods and closes her eyes, at peace with her decision, with our promise to each other.

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