Page 104 of Rite of Unity

My father’s head whipped to the doctor, and I tensed.“Should I drag the eligible young ladies from their homes, Marcus?Why bother with any of the pageantry?Why don’t I tell them what we’re working toward?”Spittle flew across the doctor’s glasses.“How do you think the people will feel about that?”

The doctor backed up as my father’s face grew redder.

“You get the very best I can offer.If you can’t find a way to get me more boys, I’ll find someone who can.”

“Yes.Yes, sir.”

My father turned on his heel and marched from the room.

I remained frozen a moment before remembering to move.

He was silent in the car as we drove through the city, surrounded by guards.We reached the wall, and he rolled down his window, waving to the men perched above.Our guards climbed out and the door creaked open.We rolled through.

It wasn’t until we were alone, just the two of us, that he turned to me and spoke.

“If you ever question me in public again, I will make a new heir and send you outside the wall with the rest of the sympathizers.”

***

My boots pounded on marble as I rushed through the door and into my mother’s sitting room.“Mom.”

She turned, a glazed look in her eyes that told me she wasn’t sober enough for this conversation.I didn’t care.I needed answers now.

I sank into the seat beside her.

“Honey.Your face.”

I batted her hand away.“Do you know what August is doing to women in the Lower?”

Her eyes focused slightly.“You mean the facility?”

My stomach dropped.I reached for her hands, wrapping mine around hers.“You knew?”

She nodded dazedly.

“They’re forcing them to have babies.They’re… killing them.”

She tugged a hand free from mine and touched my face.

“Elias.Darling.Humans are on the verge of dying out.When your father and I married, only one in every fifty babies was a boy.Parents killed their girls.”

I leaned back, running a hand through my hair.“It’s wrong.”

Her face softened, even as her eyes went out of focus again.“If we relied solely on nature, think who might be in power now.”

“What are you saying?”

She stretched a hand out, wrapping thin fingers around a glass and pressing it to her lips.“Do you think anyone truly has six generations of sons?”

My throat was dry as I tried to swallow.

She took another sip.I watched the glass rattle atop the table beside her as she set it down.

“Mom.Am I…” I swallowed again.“Your son?”

She smiled, but the glassiness in her eyes had truly taken her, and she touched my face again.“My precious boy.”

I held her hands against my face longer than I should have.Looking for the line of jaw, the shape of an eye, anything that might answer what she couldn’t.Her fingers were warm.Her face told me nothing.