Pawn. Aimee Carter

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