and down, assessing every inch of me, and it makes me feel like a prized sow at a country fair. Every one of them wants to take in all of my attributes— the length of my legs, the blue tones of my eyes, exactly how straight I’m standing— and to give me a mark accordingly. I can tell which of them find me wanting and that violent rage sparks in me again.
North pulls out a chair for me and I murmur a quiet ‘thank you’ as I carefully sit, smoothing the dress down over my thighs as I attempt to settle myself down.
I just about jump out of my own skin when North leans down to press a kiss to the top of my head as if I'm some precious person to him and I have to bite my tongue. This is all an act, a display of unity and control so that there’s no question of his power and integrity.
I know exactly how much torture I can withstand and there’s no one in this room that could force this truth out of me; North is actually a freaking great councilman.
Every little scrap of gossip about his policies and planning that I’ve heard since being dragged to the Draven campus is stuff I agree with, like the Gifted community doing more to help out the non-Gifted or finding better solutions for orphaned Gifted children now that the Resistance has been kidnapping and killing so many of the Gifted. He doesn’t want to sit by and watch people get hurt, he’s proactive about safety and leveling the wealth gap between the higher society families and the Gifted in lower earning areas.
I have no choice here but to play the obedient Bond.
I plaster a sweet smile on my face and make eye contact with every person at the table. When North takes his seat next to me, I slide my hand into his on the table where everybody can see, because if he’s allowed to put on a show then so am I.
He doesn't react other than his fingers tensing slightly under my touch, and I try not to think about my Bond being repulsed by the feel of my skin on his. Fuck, how am I going to make it through this dinner without breaking the hell down or snapping at him? It’s freaking hard but I keep the smile glued to my face, even as my own bond begins to mourn inside me.
“So all is well in your world again, Draven?" says the older, distinguished-looking man at the other end of the table. He’s handsome enough but there’s something off-putting about the smile on his face.
His Bonded is a thin, desperate-looking woman sitting next to him with a sneer pointed in my direction. She doesn't even try to hide her disdain for me and I find myself sitting straighter, pulling myself into a fighting pose because there’s nothing like a look of disgust to get me ready to rumble.
"Oleander needed some time to find herself. She has a wild streak that none of her Bonds wanted to stifle, though we are glad to have her back with us once again.” His voice is smooth and rich, gesturing at my hair as if the color only proves that I'm a lot to handle and not that I am simply a nineteen-year-old girl with agency and my own sense of personality.
I smile and bat my eyelashes at him as if he has complimented me and we’re perfectly in sync, no trouble here, absolutely thrilled to be trapped together for all our lives because of this stupid bond.
His fingers tighten around mine again and I don't know if he is warning me to cut it out or showing surprise at how easily I have decided to go along with this bullshit he’s forcing on me.
“I, for one, am very happy to see you two together. North has done too much for our people to be left behind by an unruly child," says the woman sitting to my left.
Her eyes bore into mine and I do my best not to look away, not to cower to this show of power she’s attempting. She’s perfectly made up, her hair pinned up carefully and her dress cut across her chest so that hints of her tits are showing through the emerald green lace, making her the picture of elegance. She mixes her cocktail with her gift, swirling her finger above the rim in an effortless flex