Read Online Resist (The Harvest Saga Book 2) by Casey L. Bond - Free Book Online
Authors: Casey L. Bond
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what he put in the drinks, but maybe it would slow the Greaters down. Anything that tipped the scale in our favor was okay with me. We moved through the line, filling our plates and then sat together at a table that was pushed up beside a bonfire.
The warmth of Kyan’s actions was almost as warm as his leg against mine, as his hand on the small of my back. But as warm as it was, his touch didn’t set me on fire. It was just a comforting warmth, never a blaze. And I wanted to be set on fire from the inside out.
The entire ballroom was draped in finery from ceiling to floor. It was elegantly adorned with wide swaths of sheer white fabric, flickering candles, and heady floral arrangements. The sun had set and the ceremony was ready to begin. Music poured from the instruments positioned in the corner of the room. My suit was crisp, made of fine white fabric. The best, my father had assured me. The only things on my person that were not white were my shoes, hair, and eyes. I had grown to hate the empty hue.
It represented lies. Olympus and my father loved to give the illusion of purity, cleanness, perfection. But that’s all it was: an illusion. Nothing was perfect here. The guards signaled my entrance and I stepped from my small room, taking a deep breath before heading down the long aisle, people standing up from their seats in honor as I made my way to the front of the room.
My brother’s mournful eyes found mine as I passed by the front row, heading toward duty and the man I was growing to hate more each minute. There was no way Cam would stay long. He would run as soon as Father would allow him out from beneath his thumb. I could see flight in his eyes even tonight.
My father stood waiting for me, my crown seated atop the sterile pillow held by a servant at his side. He smiled cruelly at me as I approached, but replaced that expression with the false one, the one of the proud father and dutiful King. Standing directly in front of my father, I bowed my head as was customary and allowed him to place the heavy golden crown upon it.
My crown was smaller and less ornate than the one my father boasted, thankfully. His was tall and encrusted with glistening diamonds that formed the shape of an “O” in the center of his forehead.
I turned to face the crowd, my future subjects. If I could have, I would have sprinted away from the situation, from my father, from Olympus and my duty to her. I would have run toward Abby and never looked back. I straightened my spine and waited as the orchestra played the traditional Olympian wedding processional.
Marian appeared at the end of the aisle in the fullest white gown I had ever seen. It looked as if every inch of it was covered with downy, white feathers. With each closer step she took, I could see that indeed, they were feathers of varying shapes and sizes. Some were even tucked into her reddish hair. She did look beautiful. She was a beauty in her own right, though incomparable to Abby in every way.
My father took hold of her outstretched hand and placed it within my own as she stepped beside me. She smiled sweetly up at me and I returned it. Every girl dreamt of this day, right? Even though it was fake, she seemed excited. I had to play along. I didn’t want to ruin this for Marian or the resistance.
Besides, going through with the marriage would bring me one silent step closer to Abigail Kelley.
We were ordered to fill the square in front of the stage, to smile and cheer when the cameras panned across our faces, to appear joyful. Well, joy was certainly not the emotion rolling though me at that point. I was angry, sad, nervous and scared as hell about what I was about to do. Ky positioned us near the staircase that led to the stage. Even if the cameras wouldn’t stay trained on what I had to say, the village and everyone in it would hear my story tonight.
I watched my doppelganger sway down the aisle elegantly toward Crew, placed her dainty
The warmth of Kyan’s actions was almost as warm as his leg against mine, as his hand on the small of my back. But as warm as it was, his touch didn’t set me on fire. It was just a comforting warmth, never a blaze. And I wanted to be set on fire from the inside out.
The entire ballroom was draped in finery from ceiling to floor. It was elegantly adorned with wide swaths of sheer white fabric, flickering candles, and heady floral arrangements. The sun had set and the ceremony was ready to begin. Music poured from the instruments positioned in the corner of the room. My suit was crisp, made of fine white fabric. The best, my father had assured me. The only things on my person that were not white were my shoes, hair, and eyes. I had grown to hate the empty hue.
It represented lies. Olympus and my father loved to give the illusion of purity, cleanness, perfection. But that’s all it was: an illusion. Nothing was perfect here. The guards signaled my entrance and I stepped from my small room, taking a deep breath before heading down the long aisle, people standing up from their seats in honor as I made my way to the front of the room.
My brother’s mournful eyes found mine as I passed by the front row, heading toward duty and the man I was growing to hate more each minute. There was no way Cam would stay long. He would run as soon as Father would allow him out from beneath his thumb. I could see flight in his eyes even tonight.
My father stood waiting for me, my crown seated atop the sterile pillow held by a servant at his side. He smiled cruelly at me as I approached, but replaced that expression with the false one, the one of the proud father and dutiful King. Standing directly in front of my father, I bowed my head as was customary and allowed him to place the heavy golden crown upon it.
My crown was smaller and less ornate than the one my father boasted, thankfully. His was tall and encrusted with glistening diamonds that formed the shape of an “O” in the center of his forehead.
I turned to face the crowd, my future subjects. If I could have, I would have sprinted away from the situation, from my father, from Olympus and my duty to her. I would have run toward Abby and never looked back. I straightened my spine and waited as the orchestra played the traditional Olympian wedding processional.
Marian appeared at the end of the aisle in the fullest white gown I had ever seen. It looked as if every inch of it was covered with downy, white feathers. With each closer step she took, I could see that indeed, they were feathers of varying shapes and sizes. Some were even tucked into her reddish hair. She did look beautiful. She was a beauty in her own right, though incomparable to Abby in every way.
My father took hold of her outstretched hand and placed it within my own as she stepped beside me. She smiled sweetly up at me and I returned it. Every girl dreamt of this day, right? Even though it was fake, she seemed excited. I had to play along. I didn’t want to ruin this for Marian or the resistance.
Besides, going through with the marriage would bring me one silent step closer to Abigail Kelley.
We were ordered to fill the square in front of the stage, to smile and cheer when the cameras panned across our faces, to appear joyful. Well, joy was certainly not the emotion rolling though me at that point. I was angry, sad, nervous and scared as hell about what I was about to do. Ky positioned us near the staircase that led to the stage. Even if the cameras wouldn’t stay trained on what I had to say, the village and everyone in it would hear my story tonight.
I watched my doppelganger sway down the aisle elegantly toward Crew, placed her dainty
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