Deep Redemption

Her sorrow-filled voice cut me where I lay. “What I deserve,” I replied, my voice husky. Harmony shook her head, as if she was going to argue, but I cut her off. “Will you . . . will you remove your veil for me? I want . . . I want to see you. I need to see your face.”

Harmony stilled, and her wide eyes searched mine. “Harmony,” I said quietly, speaking from my heart. “I don’t believe you are cursed.”

“But . . . but I have been declared so,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I don’t believe beauty is devil-created,” I assured her. I swallowed hard. “I used to, Harmony. For so long I believed it to be true, I didn’t doubt the teachings . . . But now . . . ” I trailed off. Harmony was silent, waiting for me to finish. I sighed. “But now I think that maybe it was just another falsehood. Another belief that I devoutly honored, and now wonder if there was any substance to it at all.”

Harmony’s eyes narrowed above her veil as if trying to read me. I stared back, open and honest. I had lied so much in my life, pretended for so long, that I no longer had the strength to keep up any form of charade. Not with Harmony. I wanted her to see me. And only me. Not Cain . . . but me.

I was tired. So fucking tired of it all.

The minutes ticked by, and Harmony didn’t move. I feared that she had decided I wasn’t a person to trust. I had just given up hope that I would see her face when she lifted her hand and brought it to the side of her head. I could see her fingers shaking as she unclasped the veil and guided the pale-blue material away from her face.

I held my breath as the delicate fabric fell away. Heat filled my chest when Harmony looked at me, free from the barrier.

She was quite simply the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

Tingles of warmth raced down my spine as Harmony swallowed nervously. The apples of her cheeks were kissed with a pink blush and her dark eyes glistened. Her skin was silky and pale in color. Her cheekbones were high and defined, and her lips were deep pink and plump. “Harmony,” I said on a long exhale. I wanted to tell her she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But I held back. As a Cursed, my comment on her beauty would be the last thing she wanted to hear. “Thank you,” I said softly.

Harmony’s eyes dipped in a sudden shyness, a simple action that melted my heart. Her head turned slightly, then everything stilled. There was a large red mark on the side of her face, the skin mottled and swelling underneath.

“What happened?” I asked abruptly, through gritted teeth.

Harmony’s eyes snapped back up to mine and I saw a hint of anger on her face. “Prophet Cain,” she whispered and brought her hand up to cover the mark, wincing as it made contact. I couldn’t speak. I was so furious, so incensed, that my voice was stuck in my throat, my heart beating a harsh rhythm like the loudest of drums. “I . . . I tried to stop him from touching me . . . ” Harmony said, a deep red flush engulfing her face. She clenched her jaw, and angry tears formed in her eyes. “I took hold of his wrist.” She paused. “And I held it with all of my strength. In a moment of madness, I tried to stop the leader of our faith from taking what he wanted from me. I resisted. I foolishly and stupidly resisted. I do not know what I was thinking.”

I had balled my hands into fists so tightly they ached. But at the same time, a rush of heat spread across my chest—pride. I felt proud that Harmony had done that, that she had tried to shield off Judah’s unwelcomed touch. “Good,” I managed to push out.

Harmony froze as she looked at me. “Good?”

I nodded my head curtly, as much as I could in this uncomfortable position on the floor. “He should not be allowed to do that,” I replied. “It is not his right.” A small flicker of relief hit me as I spoke those words. I was relieved because I knew, with one hundred percent conviction, that I would never force my touch on a woman. No matter how much power I gained, I would never have done that.

At least in this, I was the polar opposite to my twin.

Harmony lifted her hand to her face. It took me a moment to realize that she was wiping away tears. But I could see they weren’t tears of sadness. They were hot tears of anger, of frustration. The fire I had wanted to see in her beautiful face was being bared to my eyes.

“It should not be acceptable,” she said tightly. “He should not be allowed to take whoever he wants, whenever he wants . . . no matter how young or broken they may be.” Harmony sniffed and her eyes searched mine. “Why? Why is it that this can happen? All those children in the Lord’s Sharings, there without choice. The awakenings forced upon us without a say, the Cursed accusations at such a young age, forever changing the path our lives take . . . ” Her voice quieted to silence. I watched her try to fight back her fury. It was a battle she failed. “I know the scriptures teach it so,” she burst out. “I know it is a practice that has been carried out for years. But why do only a few of us question it? How has it not already been stopped?”

As Harmony gasped for breath, I said, “Harmony, Prophet David set the precedent years ago when he said that God revealed it to be so. The people believe it is what God wants of his chosen tribe—us.”

“I do not believe that,” she stated, her voice thick with conviction. “If there is a greater power, He would not sanction men violating children. Taking away any form of choice from women.” Harmony laughed a humorless laugh. She stared off to the side. “I met him . . . I met Prophet David, Rider. A very long time ago. And I hated him on sight, like I do all the disciple guards and most of the men I have ever encountered. But today, Prophet Cain was something else entirely.

“He had a chilling wickedness in his stare.” She let out a harsh laugh. “He is a beautiful man; his looks are the most pleasing I have ever seen.”

I released a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Because if she thought Judah beautiful . . . she would find me so too. But that vain excitement was quashed when she added, “But as I looked into his eyes, all I saw was an ugly soul. I disliked Prophet David for what he allowed to happen to little girls . . . to me . . . ” She didn’t finish that sentence. She schooled herself again, then continued angrily, “But when I looked into Prophet Cain’s eyes, I felt real fear, Rider. That man . . . ” Her skin paled. When she looked at me, I felt her fear. “He will get what he wants, no matter the cost. He will hurt our people, and they will blindly follow him . . . he will hurt me, too. And this time, I am not sure I will come back from it. I have known men like him. They never stopped. When they wanted something . . . someone . . . they never stopped until they had broken them to nothing, or worse . . .”