I’ve never lived so close to the sea. On the drive over from the Brotherhood’s private airstrip, I spotted the most beautiful beaches, the waters a deep cobalt with miles of uncluttered sand inviting one to search for sand dollars and seashells.

Uncle Rowan promised I’d have some freedom on this God-forsaken chunk of rock—the chance to roam and explore. In theory, it’s an alluring idea, but I can’t stop the niggle of dread chasing me. The closer I come to meeting the chancellor, whom I’ll spend the next month with, the more my belly roils with nervous energy. No amount of adventurous discovery on new soil will make this forced marriage worth it. Not considering the rumors about the Brotherhood that have run rampant on a global level.

Political corruption.

Sex scandals.

And the thing that worries me most—the gross negligence of women’s rights.

As we come to a stop at the main entrance, I can’t deny the fear gripping me. Palms clammy, I try to draw in a deep breath but fail.

Faye grasps my fingers and squeezes. “Just breathe. We’re right here with you.”

I’ve known about this inevitable day for six years. Six long years of my uncle drilling it into my brain at every turn, trying to prepare me so it would be easier to accept.

It’s not, and I’m far from prepared.

We roll to a stop and the engine shuts off. The resulting quiet is as unsettling as my thoughts. Doors open and close, and seconds later, Rowan swings mine open. I glare at him through the hot tears flooding my eyes. Oh, how I despise those drops of weakness as they slip past my armor.

His stature is immovable, as is his will. “Dry your eyes, child.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re right. You’re a grown lady, and it’s time you stop the theatrics and behave like the queen I trained you to be.”

“Don’t make me do this.” I bite my lip to keep from adding a whiny “please” at the end of that sentence. Despite what my uncle might think of me, I’m not this pathetic.

Not usually.

What I am is desperate…which is pathetic in its own right.

“It was done six years ago, Novalee.”

“Undo it.”

“That isn’t an option.”

The urge to run is strong. Craning my neck, I study my surroundings from the back seat of the vehicle. The grounds seem endless from this vantage point, but even if I hide amongst the trees long enough to evade, where will I go? I’m on foreign soil, the terrain unfamiliar, and finding a stranger willing—or stupid enough—to go against the Brotherhood by helping me will be next to impossible.

And it’s not like I haven’t tried running before.