I stand in Sister Marguerite’s office, four women bustling around me. They’re straightening my gorgeous white wedding gown, fussing over the train. I touch my throat, where the neckline begins. It’s a little like being strangled, but the women around me think nothing of it.

My heart is in my throat, my stomach a mess. I’m to be married in the course of an hour, and I have no idea what to think. My heartfelt prayers for clarity and right-mindedness have gone unanswered.

And now the time draws near, leaving me shaking and nervous.

Amabel looks at me with a sigh on her lips.

“You do look beautiful,” she says, reaching out to adjust my veil. “For once, the gown lends you some kind of… I don’t know. Authority?”

She cocks her head. I press my lips together, uninterested in hearing her opinions about my looks today. All I can think about is what I overheard in the chapel two days ago.

She can be… disposed of.

That one line rings in my head endlessly. I tried to tell Sister Marguerite about it, of course. But she just laughed and told me I was making things up. Then I had the sobering thought that maybe she heard it too and just doesn’t care.

She can be… disposed of.

My eyes mist over. I grab Ama’s hand, my eyes pleading with her.

“I’m going to be sick,” I lie, looking at her. “Will you please come to the lavatory with me?”

She looks at me oddly. “Alright…”

She rushes me down the hallway to the lavatory, closing the door behind us both. She looks at me, expecting me to bend over the toilet.

But I don’t. Instead, I speak through numb lips.

“Prince Henrik is going to kill me,” I whisper, tears overcoming me. “I heard him tell Father Derrik that plainly. Sister Marguerite doesn’t believe me, but—”

“Are you speaking ill of Father Derrik again?” she asks, crossing her arms. “Are you still upset that he chooses you to confess privately? Is that what this is about?”

I shush her, pulling her away from the door. “Keep your voice down. This doesn’t involve Father Derrik. I heard Prince Henrik say that I only have to give him an heir. Then I can be… ‘disposed of’.”

Ama looks angry. “If this is one of your lies—”

“Ama, look at me,” I plead with her. “I swear to you, on everything that we hold holy. I’m afraid for my very life.”

She scans my face, her green eyes distrustful at first. Then, to my surprise, she sighs. “What will you do? Run away from the convent?”

She sounds very practical about the whole thing as if the escape is my biggest concern.

I look closely at her, sniffling. “You believe me?”

Ama cocks her head and answers carefully. “I believe that you fear for your life. And I’m your sister, no matter how different we may be.”

I wrap Ama in a hard hug, ignoring her stiffened limbs. We aren’t much for embracing or showing any kind of love, but I do it anyway, tears in my eyes. Eventually, she pushes me back with a gentle touch.

“Are you going to run away?” she asks, looking at my tear-stained face.

My mouth twists. “I already tried to tell Sister. She said I was imagining things.”

Ama’s expression says that she thinks the same, but she just sighs. “There’s only an hour left until your wedding ceremony. You’ll have to leave now if you want to make a clean getaway.”

I swallow, nodding. “Will you come with me? Please, Ama. Please say you will.”

I can’t help but think of Father Derrik’s taunt. He will take up confession with Amabel when I’m gone, I just know it.

I can’t let that happen. “They were talking about our lineage, our bloodlines. I heard them. Prince Henrik wants us to produce an heir for him, and then he will kill whichever unfortunate girl he’s wed.”

Ama shrugs a single shoulder. “Maybe it will be different for me. Maybe you misheard them. Either way, I can’t leave the church. You know that.”

“Ama, I swear that you will be in danger, too.”

She pushes on, ever the practical one. “Do you need to go back to your room for anything?”

“You don’t understand,” I say, gripping her arms with shaking hands. “Father Derrik does things to me—”

Fists hammer on the lavatory door, scaring the daylights out of us both. “Where is the bride??”

Ama is quick to answer. “She’s in here! She just… needs a minute!”

“What am I going to do?” I whisper, my fingers feeling the tightness of my frilly neckline again.

“I’ll create a distraction,” she whispers back. “On the way back from the lavatory, I’ll pretend to faint. Use that time to make your getaway.”

“I can’t leave you here,” I say, shaking my head. “I won’t.”

Someone bangs on the lavatory door again. “Come out of there right this minute.”

“Ssshhh,” Ama says to me. “I don’t want to go. You do. That’s that.”

“But Amabel—” I try again.

She wrests herself from my grip and unlocks the lavatory door. She sticks her head out, speaking sweetly to our interrupter. “We’re here. We’re coming right now.”

She pauses, looking back at me. “You should stop scowling. They’ll know something is wrong.”

Something is wrong, I think. My sister is being awfully casual about the breaking up of our family unit.

She hustles out of the lavatory, holding the door open for me. I scrub at my face and follow her hesitantly, emerging back into the hallway. It feels strange, wearing this elaborate gown in these hallways. They almost feel smaller, just by my being dressed differently.

Sister Mercy is there, frowning at both of us. “You are needed out in the front of the church, for pictures.”

Amabel and I glance at each other. It’s a risky place to run away from because I have no idea how many people will glance at Ama. At the same time, I will have to go past the churchyard to get anywhere anyway.

After a moment’s hesitation, I nod to her. She turns to Sister Mercy, a huge smile on her face. “That’s wonderful. Are you going that way, by chance?”

Her charms work. The old nun turns and starts waddling that way, allowing Ama to lend her an arm to lean on. Ama glances over her shoulder, her expression unreadable.

A little voice in the back of my head tells me not to trust Ama, but I shake it off. We have a complex history, Ama and I. But we are sisters, after all. That’s got to be good enough right now.

So, I gather my skirts up and start walking. For several long minutes, I don’t know what to do other than to follow them outside. Ama doesn’t give me any clues as to what she’s going to do.

I swallow against the lump of fear in my throat. Am I just being paranoid?

At last, we come around the corner and into the church’s foyer. Sister Mercy pushes at the door and my heart speeds up. I didn’t ask, but what if the Prince is outside?

A wide arc of light spills inside as Sister Mercy opens the door. Ama holds the door for her.

“You go ahead, Sister. And you, Rue.”

My eyes bore into hers as I pass through the door, following Sister Mercy. I’m relieved to find that the Prince and Father Derrik are not among the few people that are outside. The photographer sets up his umbrellas. A few Sisters scurry to and fro with white rose garlands, decorating the church.

Further off, a pair of very well-dressed men walks toward the church, one remarkably tall and one remarkably short. For just the slightest second, I think the taller of the two is looking at me with a strange kind of intensity. I take his measure, finding him wolfishly handsome.

I can feel his eyes on my body, feel his gaze wander to my breasts. I blush, turning away.

Why is he leering at me like that? Then again, I’m the only one in a wedding gown. I guess that kind of intensity is appropriate, today of all days.

Ama makes eye contact with me again. Am I ready?

As ready as I will ever be. I nod back to her.

Ama takes Sister Mercy’s arm, walking her toward the photographer’s umbrellas. I see her cough once, then again. Then she seizes up and topples over into the photographer’s setup, taking Sister Mercy to the ground with her.

Now.

Now’s my chance.

Turning toward the woods, my heart pounding in my ears, I start to walk fast, a girl with a purpose. I reach the side of the church in no time at all.

My heart pounds, the blood rushing in my ears. Though I want to look back, I resist.

Instead, I pick up my skirts and start to run.

Want to know what happens to Rue next? Her story continues in , the next book in the Cherish series.

Stolen and abducted… yet in the same stroke, saved.

On one hand, I escaped certain death at the hands of people who have already hurt me.

On the other, now I’m trapped with him.

The rival of my abuser, who is every bit as terrifying. Dark and sinfully handsome, he wants me.

He wants me to turn my back on the religion that has raised me.

He wants me to spread my legs for him and him alone.

He wants to punish me. He wants to teach me to like his lessons.

Or else he’ll kill my little sister and turn me over to the men who controlled me before.

Either way, I will have to make sacrifices. Sacrifices that have lasting consequences.

I walk on the knife’s edge between falling prey again and completely losing myself.

And if I’m not careful, I may end up worse than dead...