by Aimee Carter
Daxton sighed. “It is a tragedy, what happened to your friend, and because it hurt you, I am so very sorry that it was necessary. But she knew the dangers that came with her profession, and she chose to do it anyway. You cannot blame me for upholding the law.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat. As much as I hated to admit it, Daxton was right. Tabs knew the risks. We all knew stepping one toe out of line could mean a bullet to the brain, yet instead of accepting her perfectly normal IV, Tabs had turned to prostitution. I’d tried to steal that orange. Benjy had offered to run away with me.
We all dodged bullets from the moment we turned seventeen. Sometimes they caught up with us, and there was nothing I could do about it. Feeling sorry for myself and for Tabs wouldn’t bring her back, and if she’d known what was happening, that I was getting a VII—
She would’ve smacked me upside the head for risking it all because of her, especially when nothing I did would change what had happened.
People died and were sent Elsewhere all the time. It hurt like hell when it happened close to home, but what made Tabs any different from the others who were punished for breaking the law? I hadn’t cried for them. I never thought twice about the articles Benjy read to me about executions. People were there one day and gone the next, and they were the ones who’d risked it.
It was different when it was my friend, but at the same time it wasn’t. Life still went on. Daxton still ruled the country, and I was nobody. At least now I was a nobody with a VII.
Tabs shouldn’t have opened that door. And I shouldn’t have talked to her.
A lock of my hair on the screen caught my eye. Instead of dirty blond, it was the color of wheat and blended in with the pillow.
“What did you do to my hair?” I said. The small mole on my neck was gone, as well.
“You wanted to be a VII,” said Daxton as he switched the camera off. “Did you think I would just hand it to you because you were pretty?”
No, of course not. A snarl rose from the back of my throat, but when I let it out, it sounded more like a whimper than the roar I needed it to be. “What did you do to me?”
“I didn’t do anything to you. You agreed to our arrangement, and now that it’s done, you have two choices. You can accept it, or you can join your friend.”
“What are you talking about?”
He perched on the bed. “I have also lost someone quite close to me recently,” he said, lacing his fingers together. “My dear niece, Lila, was killed while on a skiing trip in the mountains last week.”
The beeping beside me slowed. “She did? But I didn’t hear about it on the news.”
“The media does not know. No one does.”
I stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
He shifted on the bed until he was facing me. “Do you know why I picked you?”
“Picked me for what? To be your mistress?”
“My mistress?” Daxton chuckled, but it was a humorless laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You—you bought me,” I said, at a loss.
“I did buy you, but not to be my mistress.”
My mind raced. What other reason did he have to spend thirty thousand gold pieces on me? “I don’t understand.”
He leaned in close enough for me to smell the coffee on his breath and count the pores on his nose. “We have searched a long time for someone like you, Kitty. So long that I had begun to give up hope. When my officials told me someone with your unique features had been spotted, I had to come see you for myself. And there you were. Perfect in every way that mattered.” His smile was so cold I wanted to shiver. “Did you know that eye color is the one thing we cannot change? Experiments have been done, of course, but ninety percent of those who attempt the alteration are instantly blinded. The other ten percent go blind within a year.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, so I stayed silent. Daxton didn’t seem to care.
“Tell me,” he said, cupping my cheek. “Have you ever thought about how much better your life would be if you were a Hart?”
Before I could answer—or spit in his face, because I was still deciding—the door on the other side of the room swung open. A pair of guards entered, followed by a woman I’d only seen in photographs and on television.
Celia Hart, Daxton’s younger sister and Lila’s mother.
Pictures didn’t do her justice. Like her daughter, Celia was stunning. Her face, so perfect it must have been surgically altered, was set in a smooth mask, but her eyes burned as she glared at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Thinking she meant me, I opened my mouth to answer—honestly, did she think I’d paralyzed myself on purpose?—but Daxton cut me off. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Playing God.” She waved her hand, and her guards disappeared through the door. “Who is she?”
“A nobody. Some tramp I found in a club in the city,” he said, and I hissed.
“I’m not a tramp. You’re the one who bought my virginity.”
“And yet you still have it,” he said. “Hold your tongue, Kitty, or I’ll have it numbed, as well.”
“Do it, then,” I said, not feeling half as brave as I sounded. “I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“Your rights extend as far as I let them.” Daxton opened a drawer in the bedside table and pulled out a syringe. “This might sting.”
Celia snatched it away before he could uncap it. “Don’t you dare.”
“But she’s talking,” he said.
Celia tapped the tip of the syringe against his throat. “So are you. Unless you start telling me what I want to hear, I’ll freeze your vocal cords, and who knows how long that’ll last?”
Daxton scoffed, but I could see his hands tighten into fists. “We need a replacement to undo the damage she caused. Mother thought it best if we take advantage of this opportunity.”
“Opportunity?” sputtered Celia. “My daughter’s dead.”
Daxton shrugged. “It is of course a shame, what happened to Lila—”
“Don’t you dare act like you aren’t responsible,” said Celia. “You murdered my daughter, and you think you can replace her without any consequences?”
Replace her?
“I didn’t touch a hair on her head,” said Daxton patiently. “Your conspiracy theories are growing tiresome, Celia. It was a freak avalanche.”
“You’re lying,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “You planned this. I know you did.”
“You just lost your child. Your grief is getting the better of you. Once you’ve had time to adjust, you’ll see the madness in your accusations.”
Her expression darkened. “I’m not crazy. First my husband, now my daughter—”
“Your husband was a traitor,” said Daxton. “Lila was seventeen. No matter how poorly you think of me, dear sister, I do not execute teenagers.”
“No, of course not,” she snapped. “Wouldn’t want to risk making her a martyr, would you? Who knows what kind of revolution that would lead to?”
I cleared my throat, and both Harts focused their glares on me. Terrific.
“As fascinating as all of this has been, what does it have to do with me?” I said.
Celia turned toward Daxton in astonishment. “You haven’t told her? She’s lying here like this, and she doesn’t know?”
Daxton shrugged, and the beeps of the heart monitor next to my bed increased. “What d’you mean, lying here like this?” I said.
“I can’t believe you,” Celia all but exploded. “I know better than to think you’d ask me first, but you didn’t ask her, either?”
“Yes, well.” Daxton swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Desperate times, you know. Couldn’t wait. By the time you came
out of seclusion...” He gestured at me. “If you’d rather have her killed, it could be arranged.”
“What?” Using every ounce of willpower I had, I finally managed to lift my head from the pillow. “Listen, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not die.”
“You will not murder her,” said Celia fiercely. “You did this, and now you’re going to have to live with the consequences.”
“What consequences?” I said. “What did he do to me? Why can’t I move?”
She jerked her head to the side, and Daxton slouched toward the corner and dropped onto one of the white couches. Celia began searching the drawers. “Your name’s Kitty?”
“Yeah,” I said, watching her closely.
“It’s not short for anything,” said Daxton, but Celia gave him a look so poisonous that he fell silent.
“How old are you, Kitty?” She gave up her search and leaned in toward me. Her cool fingers brushed the back of my neck, and she must have seen the VII, because she pressed her lips together and straightened.
“Seventeen.” My voice cracked. “My birthday was yesterday.”
“Two weeks ago,” said Daxton. “Enough time for the swelling to go down.”
I’d lost two weeks? “What— But you said Lila died a week ago.”
Celia rounded on him. “You planned this?”
Daxton shrugged and held up his hands innocently. “An unfortunate coincidence, I assure you. Mother is the one who came up with the idea. I’m merely following instructions.”
“Of course Mother’s behind it,” she said. “You’re too weak to think of anything like this yourself.”
“Would someone please explain what’s going on?” I said.
“Daxton, give me your camera,” she demanded, holding out her hand. He grudgingly fished it out of his pocket and tossed it across the room as if it were nothing. Celia caught it and fumbled with the pieces.
“He’s already shown me the back of my neck,” I said. “He promised me a VII for going with him.”
“Did he?” she said. “Well, you certainly have your VII now, don’t you?” She steadied the camera in front of my face with one hand, and with the other she held up the screen for me to see.
At first I didn’t understand. They were my eyes staring back at me, as clear and blue as ever, but nothing else was the same. My skin was paler and freckle-free. My hair had gone from dirty blond to the same wheat-blond I’d seen earlier. My cheekbones were higher, my eyebrows thinner, my nose smaller, and my lips fuller—even the shape of my face had gone from a square to an oval. And somehow my forehead, which had always been a little too small, was now perfect.
I gazed at the image for several seconds before it dawned on me. This wasn’t just a gorgeous face where mine was supposed to be.
I stared into the camera, and Lila Hart stared back.
IV
Knox
I couldn’t breathe. The room spun around me, and the edges of my vision faded until all I could see was Lila’s face where mine should have been. No matter how many times I blinked, it didn’t change back. I was her. She was me.
Daxton had turned me into Lila Hart.
“What did you do to me?” I cried.
“You were Masked. A simple procedure,” said Daxton from across the room. “Nothing more than a few alterations.”
“Masked?” I said, choking on the word. What had they done, removed Lila’s face and put it on mine? “I don’t even look like me anymore.”
Celia turned the camera off, her brow furrowed with anger. “There’s nothing simple about it. Being Masked is rare and supposed to be done with the entire family’s permission.” She took a slow breath, like she was trying to keep calm. “It’s more than a few alterations. Typically we use it for a body double, but in your case, my dear mother and brother always intended on you taking over my daughter’s life, no matter how innocent Daxton pretends to be.”
The pair of them exchanged venomous looks, and my mouth went dry. Taking over Lila’s life? “You mean I’m—you expect me to be—”
“It means that your VII has a few strings attached,” said Daxton. “You can fight it and suffer the consequences, or you can accept it and all of the perks that come along with being one of us. It is, of course, your choice, but I’ve honestly no idea what in your past life is worth holding on to. You’d be a fool to refuse us.”
A dead fool at that. I was nothing but collateral damage to Daxton. The only thing keeping me alive was my face. But Daxton was wrong; Benjy was the one thing in my life worth holding on to.
Daxton smoothed the front of his unwrinkled shirt. “It won’t be so bad,” he added, his voice a mockery of comfort. “You’ll be waited on hand and foot, and you’ll never want for anything again in your life. You, my dear, will be the most powerful girl in the country. You’ll be one of us, and what more could you ask for?”
I closed my eyes as my mind raced. If I refused, I was dead. But if I said yes—then what? I would be Lila Hart. For the rest of my life, I would have someone else’s face, answer to someone else’s name, live someone else’s life.
But at least I would be alive. I breathed in slowly, forcing myself not to panic. I was still me, wasn’t I? I still felt like me. I still thought like me. They couldn’t take that away no matter what they did to my body. I might have looked like Lila Hart, but I was still Kitty Doe.
Then why did it feel like Kitty Doe was lying alongside Tabs in a ditch somewhere?
“Besides,” added Daxton, “it won’t last forever.”
I opened my eyes, the only part of me that was still me. “What d’you mean, it won’t last forever?”
“It would be silly of us to expect you to give up your whole life, now, wouldn’t it?”
That was exactly what they wanted me to do, though. “Can you—undo it?” I said.
“We can’t give you your old face, but if you pretend to be Lila for as long as we need you to be, we can give you a new one,” he said. “Do what we ask, and you can even keep your VII once it’s over.”
I glanced at Celia for reassurance, and she refused to look at me.
So Daxton was lying. I would be Lila for the rest of my life, and the only choice I had would be how long it lasted. I could call him on it, or I could pretend to be the fool he thought I was and play along. Only one option meant staying alive and in his good graces.
“And you won’t kill me?” I said.
“Do what we want, and there will be no need for anyone to die,” he said. “I promise.”
It was the voice he used when he promised a better life for IIs and IIIs. When he promised new opportunities and chances for those who were stuck serving and cleaning up after the rich and powerful. It was the same voice he used every time he swore that if we worked hard and did our best, we would get the rank—the life we deserved.
Even if I did this, they would kill me eventually, but I would have a few more months or years to figure out how to escape. I couldn’t change what they’d done to me, but I could use Lila’s privilege to find a way out of it. And a way back to Benjy.
“Are you—are you all right with this?” I said to Celia.
“Seems I have about as much choice as you do,” she said frostily. “But if you’re asking if I will help, yes. Enough people have died for my dear brother’s ambitions. No need to add to the body count.”
Daxton set his hand over the place where his heart would have been if he’d had one. “I’m wounded, Celia, truly. If you have a problem with it, talk to Mother, not me. I’m merely following her instructions.”
“Of course you are,” said Celia. She set the camera down on my bedside table and reached toward me. For a moment I thought she was going to touch my face—Lila’s face—but her hand stopped short, and she pulled away. “Once the medication ha
s run its course, I will help you learn all you need to know. Knox must be told, as well,” she added, directing that at Daxton. “And your son, if you haven’t told him yet.”
“I won’t be telling Greyson,” said Daxton shortly. “And neither will you.”
“Of course not,” said Celia. “Wouldn’t want him knowing you killed his cousin so soon after the deaths of his mother and brother, would we?”
A wave of dizziness hit me. I’d have to deal with Greyson, Daxton’s eighteen-year-old son, along with every other member of the Hart family. I’d grown up seeing their faces on television and hearing their voices on the news, and now I wouldn’t just be meeting them. I’d be one of them.
Originally Jameson, Greyson’s older brother, had been set to inherit the country. But now, once Daxton died, Greyson’s name would replace his father’s as the only one on the ballot every four years. I didn’t know why Daxton didn’t want to tell him about me, and I didn’t care, but I couldn’t remember a Knox in the news articles Benjy read to me every morning.
“Who’s Knox?”
“Lennox Creed,” said Celia. “He prefers Knox.”
The beeping next to my bed accelerated. Lennox Creed was famous not for his father, who was one of the Ministers of the Union, but for his antics inside the exclusive nightclubs and parties that no V could ever dream of getting into, let alone a III.
And he was Lila’s fiancé.
“Do I still have to—”
“Yes,” said Daxton, cutting me off. “Like it or not, darling, from here on out, you’re Lila until I tell you otherwise. Hold up your end of the bargain, and I’ll hold up mine. Sound fair?”
When the end resulted in my death no matter what I said—no, it didn’t. “Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice,” I said, echoing Celia’s words. When Daxton continued to watch me expectantly, I swallowed. “Sounds fair.”
Celia sniffed and stared down her nose at me. “If you’re going to do this, you might as well do it right. Is the tattoo there?”
“The VII?” I said. “It’s there.”
“Not that one,” she said, and she faced Daxton. I closed my eyes and ignored them as they discussed every tiny detail of Lila’s body, and their voices faded into the background.