to Mr. Lilian, his huge arm firmly linked with his half, also whom Aaron had never seen. But judging by her blank stare, she was just like the woman he’d seen in the car. Empty. Another camera flashed and Casler’s white teeth twinkled.
Dominic Brees came next, followed by hundreds more in crisp suits and gowns, including Father Dravin in full priest attire a few rows back. Most of the women had the vacant looks of juvengamy women.
Clive grinned for the cameramen as they circled him and Amber, flashing away. He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her closer. Her limp body obeyed like a rag doll. She smiled once, briefly, and the onslaught of flashes that bleached her face forced her to lower her eyes.
Aaron stared at them as they crossed the lobby, unable to draw breath, unable to pivot his frozen knees. Unable to save her. Between his eyes, there was only frigid, black confusion as every last drop of his conviction evaporated. There was so much they hadn’t considered the night before, so much delusion. Of course halves couldn’t be faked. He saw the truth now—in Amber and Clive’s synchronized steps, in the identical sparkle of their bright eyes, in their equally perfect features—what he’d been blinded to for a month.
Amber and Clive simply looked right together.
After today, they would belong only to each other; the rules were different. When Casler’s machine was through with Amber, she would become Clive’s puppet, to do with as he pleased. There was nothing Aaron could do about it. Nothing.
That was the law of halves.
The paparazzi followed Clive and Amber through the doors. For a full five minutes, the procession filed through the lobby, until finally, the footsteps of the last couple echoed through the hall.
Gradually, the stabbing pain in his skull faded. But the pain in his heart did not.
“Mr. Harper—” The receptionist leaned forward. “It’s time.”
***
Amber felt Clive gripping her waist, holding her steady as they descended the thirty-six steps outside the Chamber of Halves, most likely unaware that his arm was the only thing keeping her vertical. Every step was a leap of faith, a petrifying free-fall, threatening to drain her already empty stomach onto the flashing cameras in front of her.
At the bottom she let unfamiliar hands guide her into a limousine, and she fell into a cold leather seat strewn with rose petals. Clive slid in next to her, and without warning they were alone, unnervingly alone—as the guests’ chatter was muted outside the tinted glass.
The limo pulled away, leaving her stomach far behind. Clive was whispering something, sliding closer to her, touching her in places he shouldn’t, but all she could do was fix her stare helplessly on the horizon and wait for it to stop spinning.
Clive had discovered her that morning, sleeping with Aaron. Amber shut her eyes, but the memory had already stung her. The urge to cry out his name was unbearable. Even in the Chamber, she expected Aaron. Even after Clive entered, grabbed her hand, and led her wordlessly before their parents—and the roaring applause of the Juvengamy Brotherhood—she still believed it was an arrangement.
What finally convinced her otherwise was the image of Clive’s pale blue eyes through the aitherscope during the confirmation.
The limo descended into the valley below and dropped them off at the Chamber Ballroom, where a hundred silk covered tables were set with crystal glasses and silver.
When the first course was served, shrimp salad over half an avocado, smothered in a thick reddish sauce, Amber took one look and barely managed to excuse herself to the bathroom before she threw up.
Clive followed her and banged on the door.
Amber coughed and stared at the watery contents of her stomach as they seeped down the drain, and another knot formed in her stomach.
She wondered vaguely about Aaron’s half, but she couldn’t hold the thought. Her stomach convulsed again. Good, the sooner it was all out, the better.
Just like the sooner they emptied her out with that machine, the better.
Clive banged harder, threw his weight against the door, and broke the lock. He swooped in and grabbed her shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“You’re really asking?” she said.
“Is this how it’s going to be, Amber?” he said. “Is this how it’s going to be on our wedding night?”
“No,” she said, “this is how it’s going to be forever.”
“Does it matter that I love you?”
“Clive, none of this has ever been about love,” she said.
He stared at her. “It’s Harper, isn’t it?”
“Why does