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
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
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