Aimee Carter - Pawn

Right. Our cover story—not a lie, really, except the fact that the real Lila had died on the slopes. “Cold,” I said as servants dressed in black began to set dishes in front of us. Lettuce with bits of chicken and drizzled sauce that made my stomach turn, but remembering my training, I picked up the fork farthest from the plate and nibbled on a piece. It tasted as bad as it smelled.

“And?” said Augusta, eyebrow raised. Clearly she expected something more, but I’d never been there, so how was I supposed to report on an unfamiliar place? Lie, I supposed. Convincingly. A little practice wouldn’t hurt.

“Skiing was enjoyable,” I said in Lila’s prim accent. She used a more common dialect when she spoke to the crowds, but I wasn’t supposed to know about those speeches. “I spent so much time on the slopes that I can hardly walk, but nights at the lodge were relaxing.”

This seemed to satisfy Augusta, because Daxton spoke up next. “How are plans for the wedding coming along?”

I didn’t even want to think about it, let alone talk about it, and thankfully Celia jumped in and saved me. “The plans are coming along nicely, thank you for asking,” she said, and I noticed she hadn’t touched her salad. “Everything is on schedule for New Year’s Eve. I hear you’re going on another hunting expedition tomorrow.”

“I am, and I was thinking of taking Lila with me, since it’s only a day trip.”

Beside me, Knox tensed. “I’m sure she could use a few days of rest—”

“No, she should go,” said Celia. She stabbed her salad with enough force to chip the delicate china, though she still didn’t take a bite. “It’d be good for her to see what you do to amuse yourself.”

Knox’s hand tightened around mine. Hunting wouldn’t be so bad, though. The idea of spending the day with Daxton made my skin crawl, but he needed to see that I was willing to do whatever he wanted, and this was the perfect opportunity.

“I agree,” said Augusta. “She should go. Perhaps it will help her better understand how things work.” She eyed me over her wineglass, and I hastily looked down at my plate.

With each new course came questions, and I answered them as best I could. A look from Celia or a squeeze of the hand from Knox told me when I’d made a mistake, and I backtracked quickly.

Augusta and Daxton brought up everything from plans for Lila’s eighteenth birthday celebration in December to her last charity event, where she had worn a dress made by an up-and-coming designer whose name I’d never heard. With each answer I gave, Augusta either nodded or scowled, and I hung on her every gesture, too nervous to eat much. Most of it looked inedible anyway, and anything that tasted good came in such small portions that it hardly made a dent.

By the time a servant set the main course in front of me, I was starving. My mouth watered at the scent of seasoned beef that reminded me of Nina’s cooking, but as I picked up my knife to begin cutting, I remembered that Lila didn’t eat red meat. Maybe Daxton’s plan was to starve me to death instead.

Despite my growling stomach, I set my knife down, and once it became clear I wasn’t going to eat it, my plate was replaced with some kind of vegetable and pork in a sauce that smelled even worse than the salad. But Augusta nodded, and it was worth it.

After what felt like a dozen courses and more questions than I could count, the servants cleared our dessert plates. Augusta set her napkin back on the table and stood. Everyone followed suit, and I mimicked their actions, lacing my fingers together as I waited for the verdict.

“Well,” she said, her focus now entirely on me. “I am pleased you have finally decided to rejoin us, Lila. Do enjoy your hunting trip with Daxton tomorrow, and I shall see you back in Washington in the evening. Your schedule will be sent to you, and I expect you to follow it to the letter.”

For a second I thought I’d heard her wrong. I couldn’t possibly be ready, not this quickly—I’d slipped up at least seven times that I’d noticed, and surely there had been other mistakes I hadn’t realized I’d made.

But I’d heard her right. After only eleven days of training, I was expected to step into a pair of the most closely watched shoes in the country, and I had to be flawless.

Everyone in the room stared at me, waiting for a response. I nodded tightly as my dinner threatened to come back up. “Of course.”

Knox took my arm again and led me out of the dining room. Celia followed closely behind. Once we’d turned the corner, he sighed with relief and loosened his grip.

“I passed,” I whispered. “I actually passed.”

“Yes,” said Celia dully as she strode past us. “Congratulations.”

There was no warmth or pleasure in her voice, only cold hatred I didn’t understand. Instead of coming back to my room with us, she hurried down another hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. I looked up at Knox, expecting some kind of explanation, but he shook his head and forced a small smile.

“Congratulations,” he echoed. “I’d enjoy tonight if I were you. It’s the last chance you’ll have to be yourself.”

Without warning, my stomach lurched, and I took off toward the nearest bathroom. After slamming the door, I sank to my knees next to the toilet and hid my face in my hands. On the other side, Knox knocked and called out, and I slid the lock into place.

The moment I stepped out of the Stronghold, any part of me that was still Kitty Doe would cease to exist, and I would be Lila until the day they didn’t need me anymore. And when that happened, all I would be was dead.

Celia shook me awake the next morning. Despite her chilliness the day before, she fussed over me as if I really were her daughter. I stood awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom while she dressed me in warm bundles of luxurious fur and leather, clothes I wouldn’t have been allowed to touch as a III, let alone wear.

“Don’t upset Daxton,” she said. “Do exactly what he tells you no matter what you see. Don’t talk back, and whatever you do, don’t step off the platform. Promise me.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. “I promise.”

Celia stepped back and eyed her handiwork. “You’re my responsibility now, and I won’t let anything happen to you if I can help it. Those speeches you saw...” She paused. “Lila was doing a good thing. A great thing.”

“I know,” I said. Probably better than Celia did.

“If you want...” She hesitated. “You can continue the work she did. All the good that Daxton wants to die with her—it doesn’t have to, and that’s completely within your power. No one else’s.”

Was she joking? This had to be some sort of trap—another test to see if I would agree to commit treason. I watched her warily, refusing to say a word.

“I will only ask you this once,” said Celia. “You don’t have to give me an answer immediately. I want you to think about it. You have no reason to trust me, and I don’t expect you to, but I swear on everything I am and everything I believe that I am on your side. Do you understand?”

Again I nodded. Whether or not I trusted her was irrelevant; I had no choice but to do what Daxton told me.

“Good.” Her expression softened, and she reached toward me as if she were going to set her hands on my shoulders, but she faltered and let them fall back to her sides. “Have you ever played chess, Kitty?”

I eyed her. What did a board game have to do with this? “Not really.”

“You and I should play sometime. I think you would like it,” she said. “It’s a game of strategy, mostly. The strong pieces are in the back row, while the weak pieces—the pawns—are all in the front, ready to take the brunt of the attack. Because of their limited movement and vulnerability, most people underestimate them and only use them to protect the more powerful pieces. But when I play, I protect my pawns.”