Pawn
Page 7
“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 has 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.
A VII for life, but it wouldn’t last long. One less sanitation worker wasn’t anything for the Harts to cry about, and when they didn’t need me anymore, that would be the end of it. The only chance I had at survival was to make sure they needed me until I was ready to make a break for it.
Stay alive. Stay safe. Make Daxton think I was his, and one day I would find a way out of this and back to Benjy. Those were the things that mattered. Whatever Daxton made me do in the meantime would be worth it.
But what was so important that they had to keep Lila alive through me? The people loved her, but tragedies happened. What had she done to make her life so indispensable?
And why had Daxton killed her in the first place?
I didn’t mean to fall asleep. When I woke up, Daxton was gone, and sunlight streamed into the room through a window behind me that I hadn’t noticed earlier. All I could see through it was blue sky, but at least now I had another way out of here if I needed it.
I rolled over to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight, and I noticed the white couch on the other side of the room. With a jolt I remembered what had happened.
I touched my face—Lila’s face—and felt the strange angles and curves. Even her skin was smoother than mine had ever been.
My neck itched, and as I started to scratch it, I froze.
I could move.
I stared at my hands. The skin was so white I looked like I’d never been outside, my nails were perfect and smooth, and when I pressed my fingertips together, they throbbed. Now that the medication had worn off, I could feel every little thing they’d done, and my face wasn’t the only thing they’d changed.
Pushing the blanket from my body, I examined the skin exposed around my flimsy hospital gown. So much paler than my own, without a single freckle or mole. My hip felt tender, and when I pulled up the gown, I saw a delicate tattoo of a butterfly.
So that was what Celia had been talking about. The media would’ve had a field day if they’d known their precious Lila had had it.
“See something you like?” said an unfamiliar voice, and I yanked the blanket back over my lap. Leaning against the doorway, with his arms crossed and his dark hair tousled as if he’d just stepped indoors on a windy day, was Lennox Creed.
Knox. Lila’s fiancé. My fiancé.
I scowled. “She has a tattoo.”
“We all do.” Knox rubbed the back of his neck, and a small thrill ran through me. Did I outrank him? Outranking IIs was nothing, but if he really was a VI…
“On her hip,” I said. “Of a butterfly.”
“Ah, that one.” He stepped into the room and pulled off his jacket. By the time he reached my bedside, I could smell the cold leather. “She had a lot of secrets.”
“Were any bad enough that the prime minister decided she couldn’t die properly like the rest of us?”
Knox smiled grimly. “Apparently.”
At a loss for what to say, I stared at him instead. He stared back. “You’re Knox,” I said.
“And you’re not Lila.” He made himself comfortable on the edge of the mattress. “Celia said your name’s Kitty. True?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep an edge in my voice.
It still sounded funny to me—had they somehow made me sound like Lila, too? They must have, else I didn’t see how they expected me to pull this off. “What do you want?”
Instead of answering, he stuck out his hand for me to shake. I eyed him as I took it. There was something about him I didn’t trust. It wasn’t every day some strange girl showed up with the face of his fiancée, and he was being too nice, too— casual with this.
“You have a strong grip,” he said. “You’ll need to fix that before you go out in public. Lila was always very delicate.”
“I’ll work on it.” I hesitated. Knox had obviously been close to Lila, and he could be my ticket to pulling off this charade. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. “Is that why you’re here? To criticize my grip?”
“Partially,” he said drily. “Celia and I have agreed to work with you to make sure you transition to Lila’s life as seamlessly as possible, so you’ll be seeing plenty of both of us. In the meantime, I thought I’d introduce myself, since we’re going to be married in a few months and all.”
My stomach cramped. Daxton had mentioned I still had to marry him, but part of me had hoped that Knox wouldn’t go along with it now that he wouldn’t be marrying Lila. “I didn’t—” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat. “The prime minister said it was only temporary—”
“Not that temporary,” he said. “The wedding’s set for
New Year’s Eve. Lila didn’t do much to help with planning, so you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”
“And what if I don’t want to marry you?” I said. “Do I get a say in this?”
The corners of his mouth tugged upward into a darkly amused smile. “Considering Lila didn’t want to marry me either, I’d say no.”
Terrific. On top of everything else, now I had to worry about explaining this to Benjy. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Yes, you do,” he said. “Me.”
“One I actually like.”
“You’ll learn to like me eventually,” said Knox. “Most people do.”
I bit back a retort and ran my tongue over my teeth.
They were different, too—straighter, and my front teeth were smaller now. I touched my new face again, mapping out the new contours, and instinctively I brushed my fingertips against the back of my neck to reassure myself of my new mark. Except— My blood ran cold. Three ridges to indicate a III, not the VII that should have been there. I pulled my hair away from my neck and turned so Knox could see it.
“What’s there?” I said urgently. “What rank?”
“A VII,” he said, the confusion in his voice clear. When I turned back around, I must’ve looked as panicked as I felt, because he reached forward without asking. I leaned away, clutching the sheets. He paused. “I’m not going to hurt you. May I?”
Wordlessly I nodded, and he ran his fingers against my mark.
“You were a III?” he said. “Christ, that’s rotten.”
He could tell. The ink said I was a VII, just like Daxton had promised, but the ridges underneath my skin were still there. And if Knox could tell, anyone could.
“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 has 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.
A VII for life, but it wouldn’t last long. One less sanitation worker wasn’t anything for the Harts to cry about, and when they didn’t need me anymore, that would be the end of it. The only chance I had at survival was to make sure they needed me until I was ready to make a break for it.
Stay alive. Stay safe. Make Daxton think I was his, and one day I would find a way out of this and back to Benjy. Those were the things that mattered. Whatever Daxton made me do in the meantime would be worth it.
But what was so important that they had to keep Lila alive through me? The people loved her, but tragedies happened. What had she done to make her life so indispensable?
And why had Daxton killed her in the first place?
I didn’t mean to fall asleep. When I woke up, Daxton was gone, and sunlight streamed into the room through a window behind me that I hadn’t noticed earlier. All I could see through it was blue sky, but at least now I had another way out of here if I needed it.
I rolled over to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight, and I noticed the white couch on the other side of the room. With a jolt I remembered what had happened.
I touched my face—Lila’s face—and felt the strange angles and curves. Even her skin was smoother than mine had ever been.
My neck itched, and as I started to scratch it, I froze.
I could move.
I stared at my hands. The skin was so white I looked like I’d never been outside, my nails were perfect and smooth, and when I pressed my fingertips together, they throbbed. Now that the medication had worn off, I could feel every little thing they’d done, and my face wasn’t the only thing they’d changed.
Pushing the blanket from my body, I examined the skin exposed around my flimsy hospital gown. So much paler than my own, without a single freckle or mole. My hip felt tender, and when I pulled up the gown, I saw a delicate tattoo of a butterfly.
So that was what Celia had been talking about. The media would’ve had a field day if they’d known their precious Lila had had it.
“See something you like?” said an unfamiliar voice, and I yanked the blanket back over my lap. Leaning against the doorway, with his arms crossed and his dark hair tousled as if he’d just stepped indoors on a windy day, was Lennox Creed.
Knox. Lila’s fiancé. My fiancé.
I scowled. “She has a tattoo.”
“We all do.” Knox rubbed the back of his neck, and a small thrill ran through me. Did I outrank him? Outranking IIs was nothing, but if he really was a VI…
“On her hip,” I said. “Of a butterfly.”
“Ah, that one.” He stepped into the room and pulled off his jacket. By the time he reached my bedside, I could smell the cold leather. “She had a lot of secrets.”
“Were any bad enough that the prime minister decided she couldn’t die properly like the rest of us?”
Knox smiled grimly. “Apparently.”
At a loss for what to say, I stared at him instead. He stared back. “You’re Knox,” I said.
“And you’re not Lila.” He made himself comfortable on the edge of the mattress. “Celia said your name’s Kitty. True?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep an edge in my voice.
It still sounded funny to me—had they somehow made me sound like Lila, too? They must have, else I didn’t see how they expected me to pull this off. “What do you want?”
Instead of answering, he stuck out his hand for me to shake. I eyed him as I took it. There was something about him I didn’t trust. It wasn’t every day some strange girl showed up with the face of his fiancée, and he was being too nice, too— casual with this.
“You have a strong grip,” he said. “You’ll need to fix that before you go out in public. Lila was always very delicate.”
“I’ll work on it.” I hesitated. Knox had obviously been close to Lila, and he could be my ticket to pulling off this charade. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. “Is that why you’re here? To criticize my grip?”
“Partially,” he said drily. “Celia and I have agreed to work with you to make sure you transition to Lila’s life as seamlessly as possible, so you’ll be seeing plenty of both of us. In the meantime, I thought I’d introduce myself, since we’re going to be married in a few months and all.”
My stomach cramped. Daxton had mentioned I still had to marry him, but part of me had hoped that Knox wouldn’t go along with it now that he wouldn’t be marrying Lila. “I didn’t—” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat. “The prime minister said it was only temporary—”
“Not that temporary,” he said. “The wedding’s set for
New Year’s Eve. Lila didn’t do much to help with planning, so you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”
“And what if I don’t want to marry you?” I said. “Do I get a say in this?”
The corners of his mouth tugged upward into a darkly amused smile. “Considering Lila didn’t want to marry me either, I’d say no.”
Terrific. On top of everything else, now I had to worry about explaining this to Benjy. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Yes, you do,” he said. “Me.”
“One I actually like.”
“You’ll learn to like me eventually,” said Knox. “Most people do.”
I bit back a retort and ran my tongue over my teeth.
They were different, too—straighter, and my front teeth were smaller now. I touched my new face again, mapping out the new contours, and instinctively I brushed my fingertips against the back of my neck to reassure myself of my new mark. Except— My blood ran cold. Three ridges to indicate a III, not the VII that should have been there. I pulled my hair away from my neck and turned so Knox could see it.
“What’s there?” I said urgently. “What rank?”
“A VII,” he said, the confusion in his voice clear. When I turned back around, I must’ve looked as panicked as I felt, because he reached forward without asking. I leaned away, clutching the sheets. He paused. “I’m not going to hurt you. May I?”
Wordlessly I nodded, and he ran his fingers against my mark.
“You were a III?” he said. “Christ, that’s rotten.”
He could tell. The ink said I was a VII, just like Daxton had promised, but the ridges underneath my skin were still there. And if Knox could tell, anyone could.
