orm than the attire of a resident. She made her way down the grand, curving stairca
ced up as Alya entered, her lips tightening in a familiar expression of distaste.
he far end of the table, a silent declaration of her place in this
into the room, a vision in a silk pajama set that probably cost more than Alya's entire war
table. "Alya, you're sitting with Warr
landing on the polished floor with a soft, pathetic crunch. She lo
e Wall Street Journal. Hi
thless hedge fund manager in his late fifties, with a reputation for c
-" she began, her v
s correct. You don't. You will remember that the roof over
it across the table toward Alya. A peace offering from a victor. "D
ssue paper, was a dress the color of blood. It was silk, but there was shocki
for a society di
She could feel her fingernails diggin
in Alya's ear. "That's what you're for, little sis
dark car on a rainy street flashed behind he
he looked at Chloe, then at Inez, then at her father
ered, the words tastin
turned away to pour herself a cu
. It was a price tag, and sh
finality. Her nail had scraped a thin white li
vering by the door. "Make sure Alya is prop
cking to Alya with the same
symbol of her choked-down protest. She walke
d for air, her lungs feeling tight and small. Her hand dove into the pocket of he
with her thumb. It was the only thing that felt real in t
ought of the boy in the storm. She tho
d in the corner of the ceiling. She stared into it, her expression bla
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