House of Artifice

by Lyn Forester

  “Nothing,” Connor and I say at the same time.

  “That’s not nothing!” Felix’s gaze shifts between the two of us. “I want to know!”

  Connor grins. “Later, Sparks.”

  “See you both tomorrow.”

  Felix’s protests cut off as I set the palm-port aside, truly happy for the first time since coming back to Lonette Manor.

  BREAKING THE MOLD

  “Do we really need to have it so tight?” I wheeze as Nikola fastens me into the corseted dress. It hugs my rib cage with deceptively narrow bands of silver metal that play peek-a-boo through the midnight-blue lace.

  “My apologies. We don’t have time to have it altered.” Behind me, Nikola tugs the dress even tighter, and I lose the ability to take deep breaths. “Master Pannor’s schedule was booked with the short notice. We’re lucky he already had your measurements programmed into his mannequin.”

  My lungs constrict beneath the pressure on my rib cage. “He’s trying to kill me.”

  “Stop talking.” His button lacer, and odd, hooked stick, catches the light as he delicately threads the tiny pearls that run the length of the dress through narrow slits. Under his breath, he mutters, “This is freaking ridiculous.”

  My hands tighten on the edge of the vanity for balance as a sharp tug almost trips me. “Either we really pissed him off last time, or he took you seriously about setting a new style trend.”

  The dress that arrived was the complete opposite of the current fashion. Instead of a flowing, long dress in light colors, Master Pannor sent over a short, dark dress. The fitted bodice compresses my breasts to form milky, half globes that peek from the top of a demure, square neckline. Transparent, lace curves around my shoulders and down my arms to end at the elbow. Below the waist, the skirt forms a soft bell that ends a hand’s span above my knee, leaving a long line of bare skin that ends in a pair of nude, low heels that don’t disrupt the line of my legs.

  With my vibrant red hair pulled into a loose chignon at the back of my head, the look is eye-catchingly vibrant. People will certainly notice me, despite my height. We’ll have to wait and see, though, if it’s the trend-setting change of the season, or fodder for the gossip magazines.

  With one last tug, Nikola steps back with a smile of victory. “Done.”

  “Thank, god.” I release the vanity to straighten and test the confines of my new prison. While restrictive, the fabric moves with ease. As long as I avoid the buffet tables, I should be fine.

  “One last touch.” Nikola walks into the closet and returns a moment later with a slender box in his hands.

  He sets it on the vanity and opens it to reveal a pair of double teardrop earrings. The crushed gems along the outer rim flash and wink like stars, while the red stone in the center of the larger teardrop flares with an inner fire.

  Hesitant to touch them, I glance up at Nikola. “I don’t have my ears pierced.”

  “Don’t worry, these are magnetic.” He lifts one out to show me the back.

  Where a peg should be, a tiny, flat disk takes its place. He uses a nail to separate the pieces, then lifts the earring to my lobe, delicately fastening it in place. He picks up the second earring and moves to my other side to repeat the process.

  When he steps back, I turn my head left and right. Their heavy weight tugs at my earlobes, but they stay on. “They’re beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful.” Emotion thickens Nikola’s voice, and our eyes meet in the mirror. He clears his throat. “Master Pannor did a wonderful job.”

  “Yes, he did.” My gaze skims over Nikola, who dressed before seeing to me.

  Beneath his black suit, he wears a midnight-blue dress shirt that matches my dress. It has a short, half-collar that frames his throat, with two small pearls on either side. A slender, silver buckle at his belt matches the silver metal on my dress. He wears his black hair swept back to highlight his high cheekbones and pointed jawline. A perfect match for me in every way. Just as his mother matches my father. No one who sees us will question that we’re a unit.

  He lifts his palm-port from inside his jacket to check the time. “We should head down. The car will be here soon.”

  “Yes.” I grab my own device from the top of the vanity and tuck it into one of the clever pockets hidden in the skirt. With its lightweight, it doesn’t change the hang of the dress at all.

  As we leave my rooms and walk toward the lift, Nikola’s hand touches my back. “Caitlyn, thank you for not—”

  I cut off his apology. “Let’s not speak of it again.”

  His hand drops away. “Of course.”

  Neither of us have outright acknowledged his actions. To do so would open the grounds for immediate dismissal from the house, providing, of course, that he took action on his own and not under the instruction of my father. Right now, I’m not willing to find out who instigated the plan to isolate me. Until I know for sure, I can still pretend that Nikola acted out of some twisted concern for my well-being.

  We ride the lift down in uncomfortable silence.

  When we reach the foyer, my steps slow to a stop, and Nikola stiffens beside me.

  Garrett waits at the front door, dressed in an exact replica of Nikola’s suit down to the pearls at his neck and the silver buckle.

  Nikola’s cool voice breaks the silence. “Latven, a little late for a visit, don’t you think?”

  “I’m here to act as demi-Councillor Lonette’s secretary for the night.” One sandy eyebrow rises as his gaze skims over Nikola. “Or did she not inform you?”

  Embarrassed heat rushes through me. In my excitement over seeing the guys again, I completely forgot about Garrett.

  Nikola turns to me, stiff with wounded pride. In not talking about the incident with my palm-port, we also glossed over my decision on what to do about Garrett and Erinhale. While I fully intend to reject Erinhale, Garrett’s request for friendship makes me hesitate where he’s concerned.

  I straighten my spin and close the distance to the front door, my heels clicking against the slate tiled projection on the holo-floor. “Garrett, I see Master Pannor outfitted you as well.”

  He bows low at the waist. “My appreciation for the consideration, demi-Councillor.”

  Shame rushes through me. It must be more of my grandmother’s plotting because I hadn’t given him a second thought after he left. My distraction could have hurt him. I turn to glance back at Nikola, who remains near the hall, his mouth tight with pain.

  “Nikola, come.” With a deep breath, I motion for him to join us. “We are setting new trends tonight, are we not?”

  His eyes narrow as he walks toward us. “What are you thinking, Caitlyn?”

  I tuck my hands into the folds of my skirt. “There’s no rule against having two acting secretaries, is there?”

  “It’s not done,” Nikola grits out through clenched teeth.

  “But there’s no rule against it,” Garrett drawls. When I glance up at him, he studies Nikola with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Come on, Koscov. Take a risk.”

  “Caitlyn’s future is not something to be gambled on,” Nikola snaps at the taller man.

  “I do believe Caitlyn enjoys a good gamble.” Garrett’s laughing brown eyes turn to me. “Am I right?”

  “Indeed.” His humor is contagious, and I find myself smiling. I turn to Nikola and catch his sleeve to pull him forward. “It’s a night to try new things. Let’s go.”

  “Caitlyn, this isn’t a good idea.” But despite his protest, he shakes himself into motion and gestures for Mr. Purnell to open the double doors.

  “It’s time to shake things up.” Turning, I march toward the entrance.

  ~

  As we drive down Central Road’s wide street, the neon signs at ground and flight level flicker through the car window in splashes of every color in existence. But the flight paths overhead are quiet for now. With the announcement of Mr. Blue’s reception, air arrivals were rerouted to Level 11 until after the ce
lebration to cut back on potential assassination attempts.

  We slow to a stop at the entrance to Central Plaza, where a metal barricade blocks the majority of the road. Curiosity seekers gather at the edges of the sidewalk, held back by ropes and watchful Blue Guards. They try to peer through the windows of the waiting cars, and I stare back at them, confident that the tinted windows hide us from view.

  Our car creeps forward as the one ahead of us gets waved through and a blue guard approaches our driver. She keeps a hand near the psy-gun at her hip as she bends down to speak to our chauffeur. When he shows her our invitation, she nods and walks to the back of the car.

  Garrett rolls down the window, and she leans in with a scanner in hand. “Good evening, demi-Councillor.”

  “Good evening.” I lift my wrist and allow her to scan my dat-band.

  Garrett and Nikola do the same and she steps back, eyes fixed on the screen. At last, she touches the winged shield clipped to her breast pocket and bows her head. “Have a pleasant night.”

  Garrett rolls the window back up as she waves at the gatekeepers to let us pass.

  As we drive inside, light floods Central Plaza on Level 12, blocking out the darkness of the rest of the city cast by the Night-Cycle.

  The portal pads draw my attention. Father’s never allowed me to venture into a portal. Despite their almost flawless technology, he refuses to allow me to risk being lost in the in-between just to make travel faster. The docking station lays quiet now, the shimmering portals locked down with red lights at the top of their arches.

  Past them, the Halls of Justice take up most of the eastern quadrant of the plaza, a giant silver spire that begins at Ground Zero and punches through every level to end in a dagger sharp point on Level 13. It houses the Peace Keepers, both the Blue Guard and the White Guard, the judicial systems. Its mirrored surface never tarnishes, a bright beacon of warning to the masses that the law applies to every level equally.

  The entertainment houses and small businesses lay quiet, their doors shut tight for the night. While the plaza would usually be bustling at this time of night, the few people who walk the sidewalks do so with hurried strides, on their way from one location to the next.

  It makes it almost impossible to see the twinkling stars projected overhead when we exit the car in front of the Councilitorium.

  As soon as I step onto the sidewalk, Nikola takes the more advantageous position at my right shoulder, while Garrett flanks me on the left. Red ropes on either side of the staircase block off the rest of the pathway to keep the other citizens of Level 12 from venturing too close to the elite in their midst.

  Blue Guards in azure uniforms create a living corridor up to the two-story double-doors. At the top of the stairs, two White Guards join them, a Troehan with velvety green hair and moss-colored skin and a Rothven with blue hair and inky-black eyes. They tower over their human counterparts as they keep a close eye on the plaza for any hint of danger.

  With any gathering of the city’s ruling figures in mass attendance, there’s always the concern that we’ll become targets. But Level 12 will be put on lockdown, every citizen currently on the level scanned to make sure they belong.

  We face minimal risk here.

  When we reach the entrance, a young woman stands to one side, unobtrusive in a beige suit. She holds a scanner out, and I run my dat-band over it to prove my identity. Nikola and Garrett follow suit, and for a moment, I worry that she’ll protest me bringing two secretaries. The light on her scanner remains green, and she allows us to pass.

  Quiet conversation fills the foyer of the Councilitorium as guests linger to greet each other before venturing on to the main event. Small standing tables dot the area to provide natural places to gather. Designed in muted cream and pale gold, the room forms a large octagon with five archways leading into separate ballrooms. Overhead, a chandelier made of glass flowers slowly rotates, casting subtle patterns of rose on the walls and marble floor. A beverage bar sits off to one side, with a small waterfall behind it that shimmers blue with an unknown concoction designed specifically for the occasion.

  “Would you like a drink, demi-Councillor?” Nikola murmurs.

  I scan the crowd for familiar faces and find none. “No, let’s continue on to the ballroom.”

  Only one archway stands open, the wood doors held in place by planters that overflow with blue flowers interspersed with white. The marble floor gives way to a hologram of the starry night sky, midnight blue with twinkling stars. Deep within, a galaxy of brighter blue swirls around a point of yellow light. Vertigo overcomes me, and I stumble for a moment, caught in the sensation of floating in space before two hands on my elbows ground me back in reality and I rip my eyes away from the moving floor.

  Round tables that seat six line walls to form a natural open area in the center of the room. More guests stand there in small clusters, rubbing elbows with potential allies or cementing bonds with current alliances. Most wear light blue, the women in floor-length dresses with neatly bobbed hairstyles and the men in lightweight tunics that gather at the cuffs and drape in loose folds to mid-thigh. Classy and effortlessly stylish in a way that leaves me feeling like a kid who played dress up and missed the mark.

  My steps slow as I near the place where the tables end, overcome by nerves. I don’t belong here.

  With a deep breath, I step out into the sea of guests and hope I don’t get devoured.

  VENOM AND POISON

  “How are you faring in your studies?” asks the statuesque blond in front of me. She holds a flute of bubbling champagne in one hand as she stares out over the dance floor. She latched onto me the instant I stepped into the crowd, and now, we stand off to one side to make talking easier. Her cold blue gaze returns to me. “Is Mr. Baresly still teaching Etiquette?”

  “Yes.” I lift my own glass to my lips, the smell of alcohol stinging against my nose, and take a tiny sip as I decide what to say. “He’s very thorough.”

  Her crimson lips twist in distaste. “He’s a wretched little troll who should be punted off the Rim.”

  I fight back a snort. “He’s broken three rulers so far this year.”

  “Oh?” She leans closer. “Tell me which family he’s picking on this year.”

  Surprised, I glance up at her without raising my chin. “Is it a predetermined family every year?”

  “No, but there are those who are always weaker.” She tilts her head to a gangly young man who stands alone off to our right. His shoulders hunch as he sips nervously from a jar of water. “There’s a reason Scottsdale is the thirteenth house.”

  “Ah,” I say noncommittally.

  I don’t care for her venom, but so far, I haven’t figured out how to easily separate myself from her. And selfishly, I hope that staying close will bring me to Declan.

  When she first approached me, Nikola whispered to me that she was Ashley Arrington, wife of Dominick Arrington, Declan’s brother.

  Tone casual, I sweep another glance over the crowd. “I’m surprised Councillor Arrington sent you on ahead.” I turn to smile at her. “Isn’t he worried that you’ll be snatched away in his absence?”

  She throws back her head and laughs. It draws the admiring gazes of those around us, though none approach, much to my regret. Her hand lands on my arm, far too familiar for our acquaintance, and she laughs again, quieter this time. “Oh, Caitlyn, you have so much to learn.”

  I stiffen beneath her touch and use the pretense of setting my glass on the tray of a passing waiter to extricate myself.

  Unaware of my distaste, she steps close enough that her breasts press against my shoulder as she whispers, “Marriage is simply a contract in the Arrington house. As long as I provide an heir and I’m discreet, Dominick doesn’t care who I take to bed, nor do I care who fills his.” She uses her champagne flute to point to a young man across the hall. “Henry there is his latest pet. He’s quite taken with the boy.”

  Revulsion makes my stomach roll. Slender and gan
gly-limbed, he doesn’t even look eighteen yet. I’m not sure why he’s even here except that he must belong to one of the high houses.

  Ashley’s breasts roll against my arm as she peers over my shoulder. “Your two men are lovely, but they’ll age out soon enough, and then you’ll be stuck with bald heads and soft bellies.” Her tone becomes conspiratorial. “Perhaps you’ll be the generation of Lonettes to break that particular tradition? Being tied to one person is so...” She shudders delicately.

  I refuse to look back at Nikola and Garrett. They’re within hearing, but they’re professional enough to pretend they don’t hear her words. “I have time before I decide.”

  “Play the field while you can.” She sighs dreamily. “APA is a fantastic place to discover your preferences. Especially when the new years come in. So vulnerable.” She gasps delicately, her eyes widening. “Oh, not that I think that of you. You’re a Lonette. Of course, you’ve already been trained.”

  I stare at her in disbelief. What kind of rumors go around about our house?

  “Ah, Dominick has arrived.” Her lack of enthusiasm tampers my own excitement as I resist the urge to spin around to look. “I figured he’d wait until close to the reveal. He finds these things to be a complete bore.”

  Casually, I glance over my shoulder to the doors, and my heart skips as I spot Declan. He walks a pace behind his brother, his broad shoulders and height making him easy to find. His chestnut brown hair lays in soft waves around his serious face.

  In my ear, I hear Nikola’s cautious warning, “Caitlyn, you’re giving too much away.”

  I wipe the emotion from my face and turn back to Ashley only to find her studying me. One side of her mouth kicks up knowingly. “If you’re going to bed the younger Arrington, you’d best do it soon. Once he’s twenty, he’s off the market.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. “Excuse me?”

  Her expression becomes cruel. “Dominick can’t procreate. The doctors might have gotten him through his sickly childhood, but it came with a cost. The younger Arrington will make up for what his brother lacks.” Her hand drifts over her stomach as her gaze shifts back over my shoulder. “The Arringtons don’t believe in using the surrogates facility. It’s a huge sacrifice to allow my body to be ruined by birthing a child. But at least I get the more attractive Arrington in the bargain.”