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