Sister Tabitha speaks of obligations. Of sins and life and commitment and vows. Of how we signal the constancy of our village. She reminds us of our fragility, of the dangers not just from the Unconsecrated outside the fences, but from the threats within: disease, sterility, miscarriage.

She points to the four of us and talks of how sometimes generations fail us in numbers and how it is our duty to grow our ranks, add to the community's larger families.

Her words slip through my mind and I am unable to focus on them. Other thoughts occupy me.

It's the first time I've seen Travis since Harry spoke for me. After Travis was released from the Sisters' care. After I was left behind at the Cathedral with no place else to go.

His hair is lighter, blonder, as if he spends his afternoons outside in the sun. He has put on weight so that his skin no longer stretches so tight over his cheekbones. His eyes are brighter, greener, no longer hollow. He looks good. Healthy.

I ache seeing him. And it is everything that I can do to stay still in front of Harry rather than press myself up against Travis, who stands at my back facing Cassandra.

Sister Tabitha continues to speak of our duties to each other and to God but all I can concentrate on is the movement in air caused by Travis as he leans on his cane and imperceptibly shifts his weight, trying to get comfortable.

It's good to see him standing and walking and healthy. Though I hate to see him smile—I am miserable.

As Sister Tabitha brings us into the oaths portion of the ceremony, we all turn to face the altar.

Harry is on my left and Travis on my right. If I close my eyes, I can imagine that it is Travis I am pledging myself to, Travis who will take me home at the end of the week to our new life.

We echo Sister Tabitha as she leads us through our Troth. And just as we pledge ourselves to each other, promising to vow eternity at the end of the week, I feel Travis's fingers brush mine.

I grab for his hand but there is nothing but air.

I am now Harry's betrothed and he leads me down from the dais and out of the shadow of the Cathedral and into the sunlight. We are surrounded by well-wishers and I can no longer see Travis in the crowd.

I have lost him for good.

The week of Brethlaw is a dizzying haze. At every event the four of us are guests of honor, set apart from the rest of the village, put on display. We are shuffled from affair to affair. Dinners to mark the import of the occasion. Solitary prayer sessions to prepare our souls for their impending commitment.

Other than the Troth, Binding and Vows of Eternal Constancy, the biggest event of Brethlaw is the christening. Each baby is brought before the Sisters and Guardians, is passed around the people of the village. These children belong to all of us, the Sisters say, they are our future.