House of Artifice

by Lyn Forester

“I’m still surprised Father agreed to have a Lonette attend the meeting.” I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand. The bath might need to wait as the lack of sleep over the last thirty hours catches up with me. Has it really only been that long? It feels like I’ve been back for weeks now. Or I never left at all.

  Nikola’s eyes cut to the partition, and his voice drops, despite the soundproofing. “I believe Councillor Lonette wishes to expand your grandmother’s designer beverages to include HappyNow. Energy drinks are on the rise, and a new flavor would bring them into high fashion on the upper levels. If he purchased a controlling part of the HappyNow company before they launch a new flavor, it will boost the family’s profits significantly.”

  A frown pulls at my lips. “Grandmother would never agree to that.”

  My grandmother takes pride in designing the beverages of the elite. Capitalizing on the popular GoGoNow energy drink reeks of lower class.

  “It’s only speculation.” Nikola leans back in his seat. “How is your head? Should I call the house to make sure there’s a pain reliever ready?”

  I shudder at the idea. “No, it’s not that bad.”

  “Still hate injections?” He smiles, his gaze soft with memory. “I promise they’re not as painful as they were when we were children. They don’t even use needles anymore.”

  “No, now they simply shove the liquid through my skin at high speed.” I rub my arms. “I’ll pass.”

  “Perhaps a light massage, then?” On the seat between us, his hand moves enough to brush against my thigh. “I’m quite skilled at scalp massages.”

  I turn toward him while shifting my leg away from his touch. “Did you enjoy taking those classes at school?”

  His shoulders roll in an indifferent shrug. “Some days were better than others.”

  Interest gets the better of me. “How so?”

  “In the beginning, we studied the human body, the position of muscles and nerves to know how everything works together.” His lifts his hands, long fingers flexing. “Pressure points, the flow of energy, reflexology. It all has different purposes.”

  The darkness of the car makes me sleepy as I murmur, “Sounds like you liked the class.”

  “It’s fascinating.” He reaches for the hand in my lap, and I force myself to let him take it. “The hand alone connects to so many points in the body. Take your headache for example.” He rotates my hand so my palm faces downward and gently squeezes the space between thumb and index finger. “Pressure applied here can help to reduce the pain in your head.”

  It hurts, but not in an unpleasant way. More like a steady ache that slowly lessons. I glance up at him suspiciously. “I’m not sure if that’s working, or you’re just giving me a different pain to focus on.”

  He chuckles and moves to the tip of my middle finger to squeeze. “For the sinuses, which can also cause headaches.”

  “There was a lot of perfume in that room.” My eyes narrow. “But I’m pretty sure it’s all the pins stabbing me in the skull that are the source of my headache.”

  “I’ll take them out as soon as we get home.” His hand moves to my wrist to rub against the muscles there.

  Curious, I stare down at his long fingers, dusky against my paler skin. “What part of the body does that effect?”

  Instead of answering, he asks, “Declan Arrington. Is he one of your new friends at school?”

  The question catches me off guard, and my gaze shoots up to his. In the flicker of passing streetlights, his dark eyes study my face. I lick my lips. “He’s one of my classmates.”

  “He’s more than that.” His head tilts, black bangs falling across his forehead. “He’s one of the boys who raced with you. I’ve read the peace keeper’s report. Him and the Williams twins.”

  My pulse spikes at the mention of my guys, and I hedge, “I didn’t know it was them at the time.”

  “Caitlyn.” Regret softens his voice as his fingers encircle my wrist. “I worry they’ve used that to get closer to you at school. You’re all alone there, left vulnerable for them to take advantage of your connection to them.”

  “They’re not like that.” I hate the doubt that colors my protest.

  “Declan Arrington was born to be in power. It can’t sit well that he’s been regulated to the position of servant.” He shifts, his knee coming up onto the seat so he faces me fully. “Why do you think he’s become such fast friends with the Williams brothers? Connor Williams will sit second council seat when he takes over, and rumor says Declan’s seduced Felix Williams. He’s hungry for power. What’s to stop him from doing the same to you?”

  I reel back, pulling free from his grasp as anger stiffens my spine. Declan doesn’t want power. He wants to leave his family as much as I do. “He wouldn’t do that. Declan and Felix are together because they love each other.”

  His brows arch in disbelief. “Are they?”

  My mind races back over the last few weeks. Declan and Felix are affectionate toward each other, but I’ve never heard either of them say I love you.

  “Are you saying Declan Arrington hasn’t tried to seduce you as well?”

  “I—” The intended lie sticks in my throat and pity fills his eyes.

  I’m no one’s lackey. The memory of Declan’s heat-filled voice floods my memory. No, he was not someone who would ever be satisfied to become someone’s secretary. But where else could he work in Leton that would give him as much influence?

  For myself, I’d be happy to work in a disc-bike shop. But I can’t imagine Declan being satisfied with such a small dream.

  Nikola’s voice breaks through my thought. “Maybe I’m wrong, and Declan didn’t seduce Felix Williams, but I doubt they’re together for anything so nebulous as love.” He shrugs. “Felix was quite the slut up until two years ago.”

  My palm stings, and Nikola’s head whips to the side from the force of my slap. Rage rushes through my body, turning my vision red at the edges. “You go too far.”

  Nikola lifts a hand to his cheek. “Perhaps I was too blunt, but you need to be aware of all the backgrounds of those you interact with. Felix Williams’ proclivities are public knowledge. Why do you think he was passed over for demi-Councillor?”

  Shock stamps out my anger, and my hand falls weakly to my lap.

  “You didn’t know?” Surprise makes Nikolas’ voice louder in the quiet of our car. “Connor’s the younger twin. In all rights, he should not be given the council seat when he comes of age.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” The quiet admission slips from me, but my lack of knowledge already betrayed me.

  For some reason, Felix’s playful personality always made me think of him as the younger brother. I never questioned their actual birth order. Why didn’t my tutors brief me on the familial history of the ruling houses? Shouldn’t I have known this going in?

  My fingers curl against my stinging palm, and my violent outburst terrifies me. If Nikola reports the incident to my father, I’ll be sent to the Riellio mind specialist again to learn self-control. My skin crawls at the memory of my last session, of the wiggling invasion in my mind as the beautiful halion man tried to rip me apart and put me back together the way Father wanted me.

  Hugging my elbows close, my head bows. “I’m sorry, Nikola, I had no right to strike you like that.”

  Cool fingers touch my chin, and I flinch away, unable to stop the instinctive reaction. My emotions are out of control tonight, too unstable. Nikola’s hand drops away. “It’s okay, Caitlyn. It was enlightening.”

  Alarm rips through me, and I pant for air. I can’t catch my breath, the belt too tight around my waist. My nails dig into my arms as I try to give my panicked mind something to focus on.

  Nikola scoots closer. “Caitlyn, focus on something calming.”

  His hands brush my shoulders, and I lurch away from him, back slamming against the car door. I can’t bear to be touched right now. Heat flushes through my body, and sweat dampens my underarms and across my brow. It’s
too hot in here, the closed space stifling.

  Nikola snaps to draw my focus. “The energy wheels, Caitlyn. Focus on the energy wheels.”

  “How—” How does he know about that? There’s not enough air in my lungs to finish the question.

  “Red, spinning, the energy hums and creates its own wind.”

  His words come out measured, the pace designed to calm. They spark the image in my mind. My disc-bike, the bright wheels spinning, pushing back the darkness of Lights-Out. If I stand in one of the arcs, it hums through my body, a gentle vibration that syncs with my heartbeat and lets me become one with it.

  “That’s right, keep focusing on the energy ring.”

  I shudder in a breath, then another.

  “That’s right. You’re okay.” This time when he touches me, I sink into his side, grateful for the link back to reality. His cool hand rubs circles into my back. “I’m here for you, Caitlyn. No one else will know about this.”

  ~

  I stare up at my white ceiling, unable to sleep anymore. Over the last two days, I’ve sent messages to the boys and to Myrrine. So far, only Myrrine has responded. She seems happy, if a little distracted, and we have a call scheduled for later tonight. Only that point of contact reminds me that my time at APA isn’t a complete figment of my imagination.

  Every time I check the news channels, they show live feeds of the unrest in the lower levels. The new Mr. Black’s takeover seems to be going well with renegotiations well underway and a minimal amount of bloodshed as gangs swear their new allegiances. But all the citizens see are stores with shelves that get lower and lower on supplies. While I never wanted to attend APA, now, I wish to return as soon as possible. Before I lose any more of the person I was growing into over the last few weeks.

  Beneath my pillow, my hand curls around my palm-port. The desire to check the screen weighs against the depression that will come when I have no new messages. How many is too many to send before I make myself a complete nuisance?

  My eyes sting, and I blink away the tears, focusing on my energy ring to calm the turmoil inside. The last two days have gone a long way to teach me to mask my emotions as I sit through meeting after boring meeting.

  At the last one, a luncheon centered around the viability of increasing rations to the lower levels, our resident advisor, demi-Councillor Archie Vanderby, was also in attendance. He’d greeted me warmly, one future leader to another, and I took heart when he displayed none of the tells of subterfuge Nikola taught me to look for.

  His presence offered another anchor for my sanity.

  My fingers ache with tension, and unable to resist any longer, I pull my palm port out into the open. It takes a moment for my tired eyes to focus, but I don’t need to be able to see to note the lack of a green light in the corner of the screen.

  I swipe it open anyway and go to the messages. The last two I sent, one to Felix and one to Connor, show as read with no response. The ones to Declan haven’t even been opened.

  Biting my lip, I tap Felix’s icon, then hesitate over what to say. At last, I type out a simple Did you catch the race last night? That doesn’t sound needy, just one enthusiast to another. I hit send before self-consciousness makes me delete it, like all the other half-formed messages I’ve considered sending.

  I stare at it, waiting to see if he reads it. The time on the screen shows 0459. He’s likely still asleep. Felix never likes to get up when he doesn’t have to. But after only a second, the message switches from red to green.

  Heart pounding, I sit up in bed. He read it. Fumbling, I swipe over to the next screen and hit call before my better judgment stays my hand. On the screen, my bloodshot eyes stare back at me, bright hazel against the red. My curly hair sticks out on one side of my head where it escaped my braid. I look horrible, but I don’t care and neither will he.

  After only two rings, it switches over to voice messaging. The palm-port falls from my numb fingers. He dismissed my call. Felix has never done that before.

  My lap vibrates, and I glance down. A green light blinks in the top right corner. Hastily, I lift the device and open the message.

  Cait, your messages are distracting. Please stop. I’ll see you when we return to school.

  My throat tightens at the rejection as I reread the message. It goes fuzzy, tears welling up in my eyes, and then the screen darkens. I choke back the sob. What happened between the last time we talked and now to have him say something like that?

  The plush comforter feels stifling, the robe around my body a restrictive cocoon. I fling back the blanket and peel myself out of the fluffy material. Cold air slaps against my skin, the transparent nightgown a poor barrier against the chill of Lonette Manor. I welcome it as I lunge out of bed and stumble to the bathroom.

  Still clothed, I twist on the shower and step beneath an icy rush of water.

  It needles into my overheated skin, sharp stabs that ground me back within myself. I lived eighteen years without affection. I can whittle myself down once more into that emotionless shell, taking one step at a time and counting down the days to freedom. I never planned to stay with the guys past my twentieth birthday. Separation now will just make the inevitable easier.

  Tipping back my head, I open my mouth to let the water splash across my tongue and down my throat, freezing me on the inside, too.

  GAUNTLETS OVER BREAKFAST

  Nikola’s eyes widen in surprise when he enters my room at 0500 to find me already showered and perusing my options in the closet. “Good morning, Caitlyn. I’m sorry I was not ready when you awoke.”

  I shake my head, damp ringlets sticking to my neck. “Don’t worry about it. With how active we’ve been the last two days, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in.”

  “Come, let me dry your hair.” He touches my back lightly to direct me toward the vanity in the bathroom. “You don’t want to catch a cold.”

  In the mirror, I see his gaze drift around the room, noting the soggy puddle of my nightgown on the floor, the lack of steam that usually clings to every surface after I shower. When he lifts a strand of hair off my shoulder, the cold curl winds around his finger.

  He frowns with concern. “Are you feeling okay this morning?”

  “Never better.” I smile, a thin stretch of lips over teeth. “What’s on our agenda for today?”

  “We have a rare day of leisure.” Turning to the vanity, he lifts a wand from the bottom drawer and turns it on. It hums quietly, and blue light fills the rod. He combs it through my hair. “Is there anything you wish to do today? Shopping perhaps?”

  My lip curls with distaste, and he chuckles.

  As silence fills the room, I let my eyes drift shut, enjoying the light buzz against my scalp as he dries my hair. It helps to block out my own thoughts and just exist for a few minutes.

  At the click of the wand turning off, I open my eyes once more and meet his black gaze in the mirror.

  Quiet contentment rolls off him as he sets the wand aside, and finger combs my hair away from my face. “How about breakfast out? You must be tired of fruit and protein scramble.”

  As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. Father’s instructions to the cook leave me starving until I get to one of the meetings where they serve real food. “That sounds nice.”

  “There’s a small restaurant in the market district in sector nine.” He leans down, lifts the hair away from my ears, and whispers, “I heard there’s a new disc-bike shop within walking distance. We can dismiss the chauffeur.”

  It’s a show of loyalty on his part to take me somewhere Father forbids I go.

  Through the mirror, I return his smile with a more genuine one this time. “I’m suddenly ravenous.”

  ~

  When we climb out of the family car, Nikola instructs the chauffeur to drive around until we call him back. I pull my hat lower over my vibrant red curls. In the lower levels, my red hair doesn’t stand out, but in the less populated top level, it’s a dead giveaway of my Lonette blood.

>   Overhead, the holo-sky still glows dimly at Half-Light, the street lights casting a warm, yellow glow along the sidewalk to create a feeling of sunrise. An early morning worker walks briskly by in a shimmering dress that shifts colors as her background changes.

  “The cafe is this way.” Nikola steps up on the curb, his hand protectively at my back as he guides me toward a small cafe two stores down. The decorative black sign that hangs over the sidewalk spells out Cafe Brinu in curling silver letters.

  A man in a gray and chrome striped suit holds the door open for us to enter. Inside, linen and rose gold wallpaper cover the walls in a subtle damask pattern while chrome trees act as pillars to hold up the high ceiling.

  Another tall man in gray and chrome stripes waits behind a mirrored podium, his face a pleasant mask as he watches us approach. “Do you have a reservation?”

  Past him, empty black and white padded chairs fill the cafe in small groupings of twos and fours, positioned around low black tables. It seems we’re the first to arrive this early in the morning.

  Nikola passes a business card to the host, who takes it. His expression remains the same pleasant mask as he reads the card, but a slight tightening in his shoulders gives him away as he hands the card back.

  “Would you like a private booth?” He gestures to the left, where polished black archways with gauze curtains wait, ready to be pulled tight to hide the cozy booths within. The pale gold chandeliers are dimmer there, the spaces designed for intimacy. Claustrophobia sets in just looking at them.

  Nikola doesn’t glance at me before he answers. “The main floor will be sufficient.”

  “Of course. Right this way.”

  He steps out from behind the podium, the quiet click of his heeled boots falling silent as he leads us into the white-carpeted main room. His gaze flickers over us as we walk, uncertainty clear, and he bypasses the two-person settings in favor of one with two chairs and a settee.

  He steps off to one side. “May I take your coats?”