Game of Lies

by Sadie Moss

  The problem was, I had no idea how to do that.

  If my assignment had been to beat it out of them, I would’ve been back home a week ago.

  But the more subtle methods of extracting information were a lot harder for me, especially when they involved acting out a role I had no idea how to play. I didn’t know the first thing about these high society people, and I didn’t particularly want to.

  I wasn’t even sure how to talk to my grandmother, my own flesh and blood… who also happened to be one of the seven Representatives that ran the Gifted government.

  She should’ve been my first and easiest target. I was staying in her house, after all, and she wanted to get to know me. But over the past two weeks, I had found myself avoiding her, unable to deal with the mixture of joy, hurt, and disgust that rose up whenever I looked into her unnervingly familiar eyes.

  Tomorrow, I resolved. Tomorrow, I’ll find a way. Badass mercenary Lana Crow will not be brought down by fear of her past.

  With resolve hardening in my chest, I closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me again. I could do this. I’d learn how to schmooze, get some actionable information from the Representatives, and get the hell out of here.

  Then I’d rejoin my men.

  And we’d bring down the Gifted government.

  Chapter 2

  In the harsh light of morning, my room looked like a tornado had hit it.

  Dresser drawers hung open, clothes spilling out of them. None of the furniture had landed exactly where it started; it sat at odd angles around the space, some of the smaller pieces tipped over, a few of the bigger items marred by cracks.

  Sighing, I surveyed the damage.

  This probably wasn’t what Beatrice had in mind when she invited me to come live with her.

  I moved the furniture back into place as best I could, probably doing more harm than good as I shoved the heavy pieces across the smooth, gleaming hardwood. I couldn’t do much about the cracks or the scratches left on the floor.

  Maybe I should see if Jae would teach me some home repair spells. I had once considered that the most boring application of magic I could imagine, but given my lifestyle, it actually seemed like something I’d use often. I wasn’t a klutz, but I did have a knack for destroying things.

  Before sliding the dresser drawers back into place, I pulled out a black tank top and a pair of jeans.

  Then I grimaced and shoved them back in the drawer.

  If you want to act the part, start dressing the part.

  Grudgingly, I walked over to the large wardrobe that stood opposite the bed. Drawing it open, I glared at the collection of posh dresses hanging innocently inside. I snatched one off the hanger and slipped it on, tossing my sleep clothes on the bed. The dress was knee-length and deep green, with a belted waist and a small slit up the back. Although it clung to my curves, there was some give to the fabric. I couldn’t deliver a roundhouse kick in this dress, but I could move and, most importantly, run. It’d have to do.

  I slipped on a pair of black flats—because fuck heels—and wound my long, flame-red hair up into a knot on top of my head, securing it with a plethora of pins. It probably looked terrible, but without Ivy around to coach me, I wasn’t sure how to create a fancier updo than this.

  After a quick glance in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look too ridiculous, I slipped out of the bedroom and padded down the quiet hall.

  Beatrice’s house was so big it felt like living in a museum. I was afraid to touch anything outside of my room and was almost surprised the luxurious furniture and beautiful, expensive art weren’t roped off like precious artifacts on display.

  The place was also way too quiet, making me feel the urge to whisper and tiptoe everywhere.

  There was only one room in this giant, sterile mansion that seemed lived in, and I headed there now, creeping down a wide set of stairs and heading toward the back of the house. As I neared the kitchen, the soft murmur of voices met my ears, and I grinned.

  The kitchen, like every other room in this monstrosity of a home, was huge. A large marble-topped island filled the middle of the space, and pots and pans hung decoratively from a rack above it. A large woman with soft brown hair brushing the tops of her shoulders bent to peek inside the oven, releasing a sweet, spicy aroma.

  “Morning, Darcy.”

  I made a beeline for the already-full coffee pot as she glanced up at me.

  “Good morning, Miss Crow. Don’t you look nice today!”

  Darcy had a large nose, slightly droopy eyes, and thin lips, but the overall effect was actually quite pleasant. Or maybe it was just that her lips always seemed to be smiling, and her eyes had a kindness in them that not even years of servitude to the Gifted had been able to steal from her.

  I grabbed a delicate white mug from an overhead cabinet and poured the steaming coffee into it. “Oh, thanks. I feel… weird.”

  “Well, you look lovely,” the room’s other occupant, Retta, confirmed in a voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear her. She was middle-aged, about the same age as Darcy probably, with a completely untamable frizz of light brown hair, and round glasses so thick they made her eyes look huge.

  A chuckle escaped my lips. “Maybe that’s why it feels weird. I don’t think anyone’s ever used the word ‘lovely’ to describe me before.”

  Joining Retta at the island counter, I hopped onto a stool and blew on the hot coffee before taking a sip. She was polishing silverware, and without even thinking about it, I grabbed a rag and started to scrub at a spoon. The housekeeper’s steady movements faltered, her gaze flicking up to me quickly.

  Ah, fuck. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to help her.

  This was the kind of thing that was keeping me from fulfilling my mission for the Resistance. I couldn’t seem to stay in character as a wealthy Gifted socialite. I’d been living in the Capital for two weeks, and the only people I’d managed to befriend so far were my grandmother’s Blighted servants.

  Feeling particularly homesick on my second day here, I’d wandered into the kitchen where Beatrice’s cook and housekeeper were working and chatting. The sight of me had nearly scared them to death. Their mouths had snapped shut like bear traps, and I’d been unable to get them to relax the entire time I was in the room.

  But I’d come back the next morning. And the next.

  I had kept coming back until they were… well, if not entirely comfortable around me, at least over the shock of having one of the Gifted address them informally and treat them as an equal.

  Some of the Gifted elite used magic for all of their daily household maintenance, but a lot of them took advantage of the cheapest and most plentiful resource there was—the Blighted. I was glad to see that although my grandmother did employ nonmagical help, she at least seemed to treat them well. That kind of treatment was by no means a guarantee for a Blighted person working in a Gifted household.

  Darcy and Retta continued to chat amongst themselves, joking and teasing each other, while I got lost in my thoughts. They had both worked here for years and acted almost like sisters, even though they clearly weren’t.

  When Darcy pulled the loaf of delicious-smelling bread from the oven, I glanced up. “Breakfast?”

  She smiled indulgently. “Give it a minute to cool, then yes.”

  I grinned, eyeing the upside-down reflection of my face on the spoon I’d just polished. “Before I met you, I never would’ve believed there was a better breakfast than cold pizza.”

  Her thin lips pursed, almost disappearing completely. “Cold? Pizza?”

  “You’ve never had cold pizza?”

  She shook her head, looking bemused.

  “Oh, Darcy!” I widened my eyes dramatically. “You’re missing out on one of life’s true joys. It’s best a day or two later, when the cheese is—”

  “Lana?”

  My grandmother’s voice echoed down the hall, and all three of us froze.

  I threw down the spoon like I’d been caught trying to steal it�
�okay, maybe the thought had crossed my mind, but I wouldn’t want Retta or Darcy to take the blame—and glanced up as Beatrice walked in.

  She smiled tentatively, like she did every time she saw me. As if she was afraid any quick movements would send me running for the hills. “Ah. I thought you might be in here. How are you, darling?”

  “Good. Fine. Thanks.” I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my dress.

  “I thought I heard a noise from your room last night. Is everything all right?”

  I winced. Of course she’d heard the collective thud of all the furniture landing at once. If Retta and Darcy lived here, they’d likely have asked about it too.

  “Yeah. I was just… uh, rearranging the furniture a bit. I couldn’t sleep,” I finished lamely as Beatrice’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Oh, I see.” Her gaze now held concern, probably for my sanity. “If you need anything else moved, just let me know. I can levitate it for you.”

  Well, at least now I know where that particular talent comes from.

  Choosing not to share the fact that levitation was what caused the problem in the first place, I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “My sweet girl.” Beatrice approached me, reaching up to cup my cheek with her soft, wrinkled hand. Even perched on the stool, I was still a few inches taller than her petite five-foot frame. “You’ve been here for weeks and I feel I’ve barely gotten to know you at all. I want to know everything. How you survived, how you’ve lived, where you’ve lived. I haven’t seen you since you were five!”

  “I know, Beatrice. I’m sorry. Sometime soon, I’ll explain everything.”

  “All right, my dear. When you’re ready.” She nodded, her gray eyes radiating concern.

  It was hard to believe that this sweet woman with the shock of short white hair was a member of the government that had oppressed people like me for years. Or people who were like me. Even if I no longer technically belonged to that group, I’d always consider myself one of the Blighted. I’d spent most of my life as one of them, and the minute I forgot that, I feared the greed and corruption that afflicted so many of the Gifted would come for me too.

  Darcy and Retta had reverted back to “servant” mode as soon as my grandmother walked in. They put their heads down and continued to work, becoming silent and almost invisible. But I knew they were listening.

  I cleared my throat. “Actually, I was thinking maybe today I’d come with you to the palace, if that’s all right. I’d love to meet the other Representatives.”

  Her face lit up, flushing with excitement to the roots of her white hair. “That would be wonderful! They’ve been asking about you, you know. It’s not every day someone thought to be lost to the Great Death returns to us. I think some of them are hoping their loved ones…” She trailed off. “But no. Those who died are gone for good. You are a miracle, and I thank the gods for it.”

  She patted my cheek again, then stepped back, drawing herself up to her full diminutive height.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to her statement, and I didn’t like how the pain in her voice made me almost feel sorry for the Gifted. So instead of saying anything, I gulped down the rest of my coffee and headed to the sink to rinse out my mug.

  Retta cleared her throat, and when I glanced up at her, she shook her head slightly. Her big eyes were wide.

  Oh. Right.

  Feeling like a grade-A asshole, I handed her my mug so she could wash it. Her palpable relief that I hadn’t stolen her job in front of my grandmother only made me feel worse.

  Turning back to Beatrice, I spread my arms out, displaying my outfit. “Do I look okay for the palace?”

  “Of course, my sweet girl! You look lovely.”

  I almost rolled my eyes at that and saw Darcy lower her head to hide a smile.

  “Are you sure?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Completely.” Beatrice’s warm voice was firm. “Besides, who’s going to have anything to say about it? You’re the granddaughter of Representative Beatrice Lockwood, next in line for my position on the council, and a powerful mage in your own right. You could show up to the palace wearing nothing but a potato sack and no one would contradict you. And,” she added with a beaming smile, “I have no doubt you’d still look lovely.”

  My hands dropped to my sides, and I blinked.

  I’d known the Gifted government operated through nepotism and cronyism, as evidenced by the fact that no one currently in power had actually been elected to govern. But the full implications of that hadn’t occurred to me until now.

  Did Christine mean for me to stay here indefinitely? To take my grandmother’s seat on the council someday and continue to work as an operative for the Resistance from the inside?

  Was there no end to this assignment in sight?

  I reached behind me, gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself.

  No. That wasn’t possible.

  There were four men waiting for me in that tiny, cramped apartment in the Outskirts, and my magic needed—no, I needed—to get back to them.

  Chapter 3

  Beatrice took a step toward me, her frail hand held out.

  “Lana, dear girl, are you all right?”

  Prying my grip away from the counter, I shook myself lightly, straightening my spine and pasting on a bright smile. The number of people who had asked me that in the last twenty-four hours was a clear sign I needed to work on my poker face.

  “I’m fine… Grandma.” I forced the word out and was rewarded by the delighted smile that spread across her face. Hopefully that would distract her from how obviously not fine I was.

  If I was going to make any progress in the palace, I needed to become a lot better at controlling, or at the very least hiding, my emotions.

  I shot a glance over my shoulder as I followed Beatrice to the door. “Save some of that bread for me, will you, Darcy? And tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to cold pizza.”

  “Of course, Miss Crow—er, Miss Lockwood.” She flushed when she fumbled my name in front of my grandmother, and Beatrice’s brow furrowed. Crap. I’d have to explain to her later that the slip was my fault, not the cook’s.

  I’d insisted that Darcy and Retta use the name I still considered mine—Crow—instead of addressing me by what I now knew was my family name. Lockwood just didn’t feel right. As far as I was concerned, I was a Crow and always would be.

  Before Beatrice’s driver pulled up to the house to take us to the palace, I darted back up to my room and slipped on the earrings enchanted with the communication charm. This was my first visit to the palace since the Grand Ball; I wanted to be able to reach the men quickly if anything went wrong.

  My grandmother’s estate was in one of the richest parts of Denver, less than a ten-minute drive from the massive, grandiose People’s Palace. As we approached the gleaming, tiered white marble structure, I angled my head to peer out the window at it. It rose twelve stories high in the middle, staggering out to a lower height toward the ends of each wing.

  I was intimately familiar with the fourth story roof at the tip of the southern wing. I’d leapt from a window on the fifth floor and fought with a shifter guard on that roof two weeks ago. Luckily, no one at the palace knew that. The guard had died in our fight, and since I’d charmed him into helping me with my break-in, the Representatives assumed he’d turned traitor and gone rogue.

  That took the attention off me, but I couldn’t shake off the twinge of guilt every time I pictured his lifeless body sprawled at the base of the palace. I never would’ve thought I’d feel bad about killing a shifter, especially in self-defense, but that was before I got to know one of them and realized a huge heart and wicked sense of humor were as much a part of him as his magic.

  Thoughts of Fen crowded into my mind, followed quickly by thoughts of Jae, Akio, and Corin. All four of them had changed me so much in the short time we’d spent together. I was as committed to the Resistance’s opposition of the government as they were, but my four had actually made m
e reconsider what I thought I knew about the Gifted and the Touched.

  They weren’t all bad.

  I shook my head as we pulled to a stop outside the palace. Not something I ever thought I’d say.

  There was no red carpet cascading down the outside steps like there had been when I arrived with Jae for the ball. Instead, several sharply dressed Gifted men stood on the steps talking animatedly. I recognized one of them as Jae’s father, Jonas Nocturne, the Minister of Justice.

  A chill ran up my spine. “Minister of Justice” was just fancy politician speak for “the man who makes sure the Blighted stay in line.” Jonas was in charge of the Peacekeepers, the Gifted law enforcement division.

  I’d wondered at first why Christine needed a spy in the palace when Jae already had a relative who worked here. But given the frosty relationship between Jae and his father, Jonas would probably be more willing to talk with me than with his son.

  The driver—a fairy named Tarik with bright green hair and a sharp nose—pulled to a stop and hopped out to open the door for Beatrice. I quickly yanked the handle on my own door before he could do it for me. I’d sort of come to enjoy having the men I was bonded to open doors for me and help me out of cars, but I’d be damned if I let anyone else do it.

  As I stepped out of the large black vehicle, Jonas looked up, his cold, calculating gaze falling on me. A smile swept across his face, missing his eyes entirely, and he walked down the wide steps toward us.

  “Beatrice, how are you?” He caught her hand and kissed the back of it. A prickle of nerves skated down my spine as he did the same to me. “And you’ve brought your lovely granddaughter with you! I must admit, Ms. Lockwood, I hoped we’d have the pleasure of your presence at the palace sooner.”