Page 7 of His Bride

Does orgasm make you stupid? Is it permanent? I should be getting excited about the plane. This is a once in a lifetime experience.

Only officers of the Artifice have the ability to authorize air travel. It is a great privilege to be allowed to go on a plane. Maraline would not stop talking about how excited she was for the flight. Apparently they serve you unique foods and warm towels and other luxurious treats. There’s even entertainment.

I am still trying to comprehend all that is happening to me when we arrive at the airport. Once again, I am met by a fresh set of Artifice officers. The Artifice keeps many people busy doing its bidding. I am starting to feel as though the only people left in the world are ones who work for the machine.

“This is Mila Seraphine, intended of Archon-General Arthur Darken.”

I am presented to someone by someone. I really don’t know anymore. The one doing the presenting has an Angelish accent. The one being presented to is from The State.

“This is the Archon-General’s bride?” The State officer is unimpressed. Rude.

“It is.”

“Why is she dressed like a flower seller in a particularly depressing historical show?”

“I don’t know. This is the Artifice’s chosen.” There is a certain tone in the Angeland officer’s voice. I don’t think she approves of the flashy officer from The State. I’m sure I don’t.

“Well, she’ll need to get changed.”

“She doesn’t have any luggage.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t have any luggage?”

The conversation goes on in this manner for longer than really makes sense. The State officer seems unable to grasp the fact that I don’t have anything with me.

“I didn’t know I was the one who was chosen,” I explain.

“You have been matched with a highly regarded male,” the officer tells me. “You should have come prepared.”

“I didn’t know I was the one who had been matched… we just…” I am confused. “We just had this conversation.”

“It is your responsibility to answer when the Artifice calls. There are no acceptable excuses. You are an adult.”

I cannot argue with that. Technically, I am an adult. And though my life is not my own, and I had no chance to discover that I was the one chosen to be matched, and had no ability to provide for anything myself, it is still my responsibility. Because that is how life works. Unfairly, and with little regard for reason.

“There are several other Angelish matches traveling today. There will be no drinking on the plane. Come with me. Keep up. Come on. Quick, quick!”

I wonder when the respect as an Artifice chosen bride begins. So far I am being spoken to like a stray. I know why. It is because I am dressed so plainly. People respect clothes more than they do people. They identify and recognize people by them. That’s why my mother spent so long ensuring Maraline would look good, though I do not know how such an ornate dress would travel well through this cavernous airport.

When I finally reach the airplane, I almost don’t realize I am on it. The passage simply turns into a plane somehow. There’s a door, I suppose. Again, my attention is split so many ways. I know I am not thinking about all the things I should be thinking about. I just don’t have the space for it right now.

The aircraft is large enough to fit hundreds of people, but there are only five girls seated in it. I am dressed the plainest of them all, and I am the last on. This is because of all the mess with my family.

There are a few Artifice officers, but I note that they all sit in the front section, which is where the bigger seats and nicer interior is. I am happy to go to the back, if only to have a moment tomyself to think. There has not been an opportunity to begin to process what is happening.

“Hello!” A girl close to my age, a little bit older, slides into the seat next to mine. “I’m Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth is beautiful. She has bright blue eyes, long curling blonde hair, and a round, joyful face. Her introduction is so cheerful it lifts my mood.

“Hello,” I reply politely. “I’m Mila.”

“I’ve been matched to Edward Idaho,” she says, as if that name is supposed to mean something to me.

“Congratulations!” I smile broadly and try to match her excitement. I have plenty of practice doing that, talking to Maraline. She clearly thinks this is a very special revelation, and I want her to think I also agree. That’s the only way to make sure people like you.

“He’s one of the richest men in The State,” she says very self-importantly. This really is like talking to Maraline, but a version of Maraline who still likes me. I can still hear the hatred in my sister’s voice as I was led away. She will never forgive me. She will probably loathe me until the day I die. I’ve taken everything from her.

“That’s very exciting.”

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