Conform

THE MUST-READ FIRST NOVEL FROM JENNA BUSH HAGER S NEW VENTURE, THOUSAND VOICES

In the far future, one young woman finds herself torn between two loves and two sides of a rebellion boiling under the surface in the first novel of a sweeping dystopian romance series.

Compulsively readable and vividly written it kept me awake long past my bedtime! Sarah J. Maas, #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Court of Thorns and Roses

An irresistible romantic debut with a love triangle that will have you picking sides . . . then changing sides . . . then changing sides again. Veronica Roth, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Divergent

A lifelong outcast, twenty-seven-year-old Emeline spends her days alone, sorting ancient art for destruction. Centuries after a catastrophic war nearly decimated humanity, society is now ruled by an elusive and technologically advanced group called the Illum, who constantly monitor the population s health and mandate procreation contracts. But Emeline s bleak existence is shattered when, for the first time in decades, an Illum named Collin takes a Mate: Emeline.

Baffled as to why she was chosen, Emeline is swept into the dangerous game of the Courting, where one wrong move can mean elimination. Soon, she discovers a rebellion rising in secret, and that her Mate may be keeping secrets of his own. Collin is confusing, both cold and protective, and worse, she finds herself drawn to the very last person she should be falling for: Hal, one of the resistance leaders.

As she draws closer to both Collin and Hal, the Illum exercise their power in increasingly brutal ways, forcing Emeline to question everything most of all whether she ll have to give up her heart and even her life to stop them.

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Autorentext
Ariel Sullivan lives in Connecticut with her husband, two sons, and their two French bulldogs. Growing up a military brat, Ariel moved every two years as a perpetual new kid; Ariel often observed from the outskirts, where a deep love of reading was born. When she isn t writing, Ariel loves to read everything from poetry to psychology, bake with her sons, listen to live music, and travel. Conform is her first novel.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

Identification Number: F13463233

Age: 27
Sex: Female
Weight: 58.2 kg
Height: 176 cm

Genetic Defects: Minor, Hereditary

Procreation Status: Approved

A hologram filled the center of my office with a painting. Simple, small. Just a woman, a hint of a smile on her face.

As usual, I was alone in the Ancient Art section of the Archives, buried deep underground. My job was to destroy, piece by piece, the remnants of the world ancient humans had laid waste to in the Last War. Elsewhere in the Archives, my friend Lo sat in the Books section, and there were others who sorted ancient tools, documents, and relics from before the war. Our screens dictated what was saved, reassigned, or ­like this one ­destroyed. A push of a button, and the ties to the past disappeared.

The title on the screen read Mona Lisa. Her eyes captivated me like she held a secret. I couldn t look away. Her smile, over a millennium old, taunted my curiosity. For a moment, it drowned out the word that has haunted me ever since that morning: Approved.

I was one of the many women in gray who had trained for this, waiting until our fertility was determined optimal and matched to an Elite male to fulfill our role for the Greater Good. Thoughts, hopes, wants: They were unnecessary. A distraction. The Illum that ran the city provided the Minor Defects, myself included, with everything we needed. What was left to think about?

I tore my eyes from the hologram projection, its glow illuminating my dimly lit office and my foolish desires. I could finally be chosen by an Elite for a Procreation Agreement ­attend their balls and enter their towering buildings in the clouds. I would see their secret life above. Be a part of it. At least while they let me. While I was usable.

For years, I had thought about a Procreation Agreement alone in this office, wondering if the beauty the ancient humans captured in paint strokes still existed Above. Fantasies found me in my bed as my purpose was drilled into me every day. A moment in a delicate gown. A kind Elite man, spinning me on a dance floor until I was free of the horrors of the last twenty-­seven years.

He d dance with me like I was special, whisper my name in my ear: Emeline. Chasing away the words of inadequacy that had followed me my entire life. He d capture me in his arms and bring our faces close . . . until our eyes would meet, and he d deem me unworthy as every Elite had done.

The light fixture s eternal drone overhead mixed with words I could never outrun.

That child ruined everything.

She should be in blue.

I don t care what you do with her.

Get her out of my sight.

The smiling woman kept me steady, her power seeping into the room. My spiraling thoughts fell silent in the wake of her reserved beauty, as if she could see to my core, all of my secrets laid bare.

I hit delete. Her smile clung to me as she disappeared. My office became a morgue once again, barren of color, of light, of choice. A place for destruction. Four white walls, a metal desk, screens that obscured the doorway, and a single hanging light.

The city had remarkable technology. I often wondered why the Illum had us doing tasks their technology could easily perform. Why they allowed us to see what came before. It was as if sorting these relics showed us how easily they were willing to toss aside the things they saw no value in. Reminding all the women of pro­creation age what would await them if we failed the Greater Good.

The next painting depicted a man in a blue outfit, not unlike my daily gray, sitting on a simple wooden chair. He held his face, his pain somehow palpable even after all these moons had passed. It felt almost indecent, like I was intruding on something private. Maybe the Illum were right to rid the new wor