Pawn

“One thousand gold pieces!” a booming voice from the back of the room called, and I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to be sick.

Over the next few minutes, the bids steadily climbed into absurdly high amounts, and eventually it came down to two men: a mustached whale in the front near the stage, and another who was too far back to see. By then the sum was astronomical, and when the number hit thirty thousand gold pieces, the mustached bidder in the front backed down, leaving my fate to the man whose face I couldn’t see.

Wild applause filled the club, and Marion took me by the arm again, trembling with excitement as she led me through the curtain. “No one has ever outbid Minister Bradley before,” she said, stunned. “Thirty thousand—I’ve never—can you believe—and for you, of all people—”

For me, of all people. I wanted to be offended, but she was right. “How much of that is mine?” I said, my voice shaking.

“Half. I’ve never had a girl make that much her first year, let alone her first night.” She stopped in the hallway and faced me, her nose an inch from mine. “You will treat the winner with the respect that kind of money deserves, do you understand me? You will give him whatever he wants, and you will make sure you do it with a smile on your face. He paid for something special, and you will give him something special.”

I nodded, my mouth dry. The full impact of what this meant hadn’t hit me until now, and my insides clenched uncomfortably as I followed her upstairs. This was really happening, and there was no backing out now.

Marion escorted me to a luxurious bedroom with a four-poster bed so wide there was barely enough space to walk beside it. Just like the dressing room, there were no windows, and the only door was the one she closed behind me. Once again I had to wait.

I sat on the edge of the bed and drew my knees to my chin, and I tried to pretend I was somewhere else. At home with Benjy, curled up underneath a quilt as he read to me. Sitting in front of him at school as he tossed me drawings, our way of passing notes. Even walking through the rancid sewers, so long as he was with me and I wasn’t in this room, waiting for a stranger to do whatever he wanted to me.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. It would be all right. Tabs did this all the time, and she was fine. Countless girls did. And for a hell of a lot less than fifteen thousand gold pieces, too. With that kind of money, I didn’t have to stay here. In the morning, I could pack my things, take the money, and run. Find a room to rent and stay there until Benjy was ranked. After seventeen years of never having a say in my own life, I’d finally be the one in control. I would put a smile on my face and pretend that I was having the best night of my life if that’s what it took to make that happen.

The door opened, and my breath caught in my throat.

The Shield from the market stood in the hallway, flanked by a pair of men wearing the same black-and-silver uniform from before. One was a stranger, but the other I recognized from the group home. Sampson.

Instead of saying anything, the Shield stepped inside the tiny room and bent down, looking me straight in the eye. I stared back at him, refusing to smile or wink or any other cutesy gesture Tabs might do to get out of this situation. Several seconds passed before he straightened and nodded to the men behind him. “It’s her.”

One of them mumbled a few words into his cuff, and the Shield from the market gestured for me to stay put. Had he been the one to buy me? How could he have possibly afforded me on a Shield’s salary?

Instead of taking a seat next to me, however, he stood by the door, facing me but not looking at me. The urge to ask what he was waiting for bubbled up inside me, but the words caught in my throat. It was obvious what he was doing; he was making sure I didn’t escape.

This time there was a clock in the room, and over forty minutes passed before I heard a shuffle in the hallway. The men outside the door saluted in crisp unison, and they stepped aside. A tall man in a black overcoat entered the room.

I froze.

“Hello,” he said with a voice that everyone in the country would recognize. “What’s your name?”

I clutched my dress so tightly that the fabric began to rip. “Kitty,” I croaked.

The corners of his dark eyes crinkled in amusement. He removed his hat, revealing a high forehead, bushy eyebrows, and dark hair that was graying at the temples. If I’d had any doubts before, now I was positive.

Prime Minister Daxton Hart. The position was supposed to be temporary, but when the elections came every four years, there was only one name on the ballot.

“Kitty,” he said, as if he was testing out my name. “Is that short for something?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s short for ‘my mother was insane and had a thing for cats.’”

Silence filled the room, and the Shield stared at me as if he couldn’t believe I’d talked back to the prime minister. My mouth went dry, but I held my ground and refused to flinch.

A few seconds passed, and to my surprise, Daxton laughed. “I like you. You have spunk. Though with a name like Kitty Doe, we both know you never knew your parents.”

My cheeks grew warm. “If you already knew my name, then why did you ask for it in the first place?”

He shrugged. “Courtesy, my dear. Though I daresay you will not ask for mine. May I?” He gestured to my neck, and while the thought of anyone touching me made my skin crawl, I nodded. It was the least he would do tonight.

He brushed his fingers against the ridges and frowned. “A III,” he said gravely. “And a fresh one at that. You must not be very happy.”

“My choices in life have now been reduced to cleaning sewers or whoring myself out to strangers. It isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” he said.

“None of your business.”

The guards shifted uneasily, but Daxton sighed. “You’re right, it isn’t. Such a pity. I do like you.”

He drummed his fingers against his elbow, and we stared at each other. I refused to be the first to look away.

“Tell you what, Kitty,” he said, and he leaned in closer to me. “How would you like to be a VII?”

I blinked, and for a second I was positive I’d misheard him. Only the Harts were granted VIIs. Not even the twelve Ministers of the Union were ranked so high.

“I’m a III,” I said, as if that settled it, because it did. No one changed rank. No one. Everyone took the test, and everyone was marked accordingly. There was no special treatment, no taking it over again. Everyone had the same shot as everyone else. The only exceptions were the Harts, who didn’t take the test at all. “I’m already marked.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Daxton straightened and adjusted his overcoat. “I will only offer this once, and I need your answer immediately. If you say yes, you will leave with me tonight, and your mark will be replaced.”

“And if I say no?” I said.

“I think we both know what happens then.” Daxton checked his gold watch. “My offer is good for the next thirty seconds.”

I stared at him openly, but his eyes were focused on the time. His finger tapped the watch face as each second ticked by, and with every tap, my throat seemed to close up a little more.

A VII. A real VII from the prime minister himself. Wealth, power, and prestige, endless resources and beautiful things, never again having to worry about being arrested and sent Elsewhere—

Benjy.

What would happen to him? What would he do when he found out I’d disappeared? I couldn’t leave him. A VII was worth a lot, but it wasn’t worth losing one of the few people in my life who really mattered.

“Do I get to stay in D.C.?” I blurted, and Daxton gave me his trademark benevolent smile.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” he said. “We have many homes across the country, but the one in Somerset is by far the most lavish.”

Somerset. That was on the opposite end of the District of Columbia, where the Vs and VIs lived. I wouldn’t have to live in a club. I wouldn’t have to work in the sewers. I wouldn’t even have to leave the city. I’d get to see Benjy whenever I wanted, and when he got his VI—

What would he say when he saw a fresh VII on the back of my neck? A VII would guarantee me riches beyond imagining, things that would make the perfumes and fruits and silks that were sold in the markets look like worthless trinkets instead of the treasures they were. A mark that meant we wouldn’t have to break the law to stay together.

So what if I had to be the prime minister’s mistress? He probably had dozens of them. He’d grow tired of me eventually, and then I’d be free to be with Benjy. And I would still be a VII.

Not a III, not a IV, but a VII.

“What’s the catch?”

His lower eyelid twitched, but his expression didn’t change. “Your time is almost up.”