An Informal Declaration

When Yani arrived home, her little sister Naira was there to greet her at the door. This wasn't wholly unusual, but the way Naira’s eyebrows drew together in concern certainly was.

Yani shed her bag and shoes by the door. “Naira? What’s wrong?”

“You’re really late.”

“Yeah, sorry. Had a few things at the shrine I had to take care of. Everything alright with you?”

“Oh, it’s not me-” Naira glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact. “There’s a guest waiting for you. In the sitting room. Mom and Dad are with her.”

It had to be bad for Naira to be this serious. Yani went through a mental list of ever-present anxieties- someone she loved had died, Dad lost his job and they had to sell the house, her parents decided they hated Imon and were sending her away to a boarding school where she would be brainwashed into being a capitalpusher just like them.

She steeled herself, slipping on her house shoes and walking into the sitting room. Her parents were there, along with an older woman. Her face was harsh, her hair pulled back tight. Her skin was incredibly pale, and her clothing signified wealth, well above the level of Yani and her relatives. Her family was ‘new money’, and her dad had never forgiven himself for daring to be so. This woman was clearly the opposite.

Yani straightened her back and spoke. “Good evening, father. Mother.” She turned to address the visitor directly.

“Ma'am.” She spoke with a bow to acknowledge the disparity in their status.

The woman's expression remained harsh as she spoke. “If nothing else, at least your parents didn't doctor your photos.”

“Ma'am?” Yani remained at a small incline, not yet lifting her head. She would rather be seen as overly polite than rude, and she had no idea who this woman was, or what she had just walked into.

Her mother spoke first.

“Yani, this is Madame Atori. Her husband works with your father.” She paused. “They have a son just a few years older than you.”

The woman cleared her throat. “What your mother means to say is that my husband is your father's employer. And I've somehow been convinced, despite the lack of evidence you've provided so far, that you would be a suitable match for my son.”

What she just said- no. That couldn't have been right. She meant that her son needed Yani to help him pray, or tutor him in his own Godsinger studies, or something other than that.

Yani stood there, slack jawed, until her mother took her by the elbow. Yani hadn't even noticed her move. “We think this could be a good opportunity for you to graduate from being a Godsinger into real adulthood. Here, I have some photos of him for you to look at.”

She pulled at Yani, trying to guide her to where a folder sat on the sitting room’s low table. Yani knew she needed to follow, knew that she would be in for it even worse if she didn't act happy, but she just couldn't make herself move.

It was Naira, pushing from behind, that made her finally stumble forward. Her mom's hold had become steel, like she knew the thoughts of running away that were falling out of Yani's head. With her mother's grip too tight for Yani to follow her instincts, she had no choice but to sit and listen dumbly.

“This is Blain.” Her mother said firmly. She pulled a folder across the table, closer to where Yani was sitting. She flipped it open, and Yani’s heart rate dropped.

“A few years older than me?! He looks like he's in his thirties!” Yani’s thoughts burst out of her brain before she had the wherewithal to stop them.

“Blain is twenty-seven.” Madame Atori spoke. “With your… Occupation, you should count yourself lucky that we're even considering you for him."

The idea of having children with a strange man that, to her mind, bordered middle aged, was the last straw for Yani's decorum. She stood, woozy.

“I have to-” She cut herself off. “I'm feeling-"

"I'll look at these in my room. Alone.” She gathered the folder and all the pages it contained, hoping she could- what, throw it into the fire? Make this all go away? It was far too late for that. She could hear her father talking to Madame Atori as she walked up the stairs.

“She should know better than to behave like this. Once you leave, she'll get a talking-to. Believe me.” Her father sounded angry.

“Oh, no, this is to be expected. Really, it's the fault of the parents who raise children like these. Ones who don't know their place. She should have been aware of her true role in society, not locked away in a shrine, playing pretend.”

“You're right. We've let her be a Godsinger for too long. She's begun to place her god over her duty to her family.”

Yani clenched the folder to her chest, not caring how it wrinkled. They couldn't do that to her, could they? Force her to graduate before she was ready?

She didn't want to marry a stranger. She didn't want to have babies. But more than anything, she didn't want to leave Imon. She had to find some way to give herself a choice.

*

She collapsed into her bed, not noticing she was still holding the folder until she heard it crinkle under her weight. But it was good that she had this, she reasoned to herself. This man was now her enemy, and they say you must know your enemy.

The gears of her mind turned, going over every possible way she had seen someone escape an arranged marriage in movies. She couldn't be obviously against it unless she wanted to be punished. She had to seem like she had accepted it. To her parents and Madame Atori, at least. To Blain too. Although, perhaps…

As she flipped through, she found a page of personality information, and like a raincloud gathering yesterday’s dew, a plan began to take form in her mind.