“How do you mean?” he said.

“Your test,” I said. “To get a VI.”

“Oh, you mean the aptitude exam,” said Knox. “I didn’t take it. Wouldn’t do for the next minister of ranking to have a IV or a V, would it?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “You didn’t take it?” I said, stunned. “But—that’s not fair!”

Knox tugged me forward, but when I dug my heels into the marble floor, Celia stepped up beside me and took my other elbow. “All Ministry positions are inherited,” she said. “All of the Harts are given VIIs, and all the children of ministers are given VIs.”

Together they dragged me down the hall, and I gave in, too horrified to fight. “So what, the whole line about everyone having an equal chance is really a bunch of bull?” I spat.

“Yes,” said Celia. “I’m surprised anyone still believes that.”

Everyone still believed it. What else did we have to justify our miserable lives? And for the kids who hadn’t taken it yet, they still had hope they could make something of themselves. It was the same hope I’d lost the day I’d been marked a III.

“What if there’s someone out there better qualified?” I said. “What if you’re really a II and suddenly you run the entire country?”

Knox smiled grimly. “I’m not a II, and I’ve trained my whole life for that job. When my father turns sixty, no one will be better prepared for it than me.”

“It’s still not fair,” I said, and he shrugged.

“Most things aren’t. That’s just the way the world works. If you don’t like it, then do something about it.”

I gritted my teeth. There wasn’t anything I could do; that was the problem. I might have had a VII, but that gave me no power or privilege that Daxton hadn’t already approved. If I opened my mouth, I’d be risking more than my new rank, and no matter how mad I got, I couldn’t forget that my only job right now was to convince the world I was Lila.

I had to grin and bear it. Lila might have gotten away with speaking out against her family for a little while, but I wasn’t Lila, and look what had happened to her in the end. I refused to let that happen to me, too.

The dining room was bathed in a warm golden glow from the crystal chandelier. The table was covered with a scarlet tablecloth, and the furniture was made of dark wood, giving the room a rich, homey feel. Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. A cold, bright room where I’d be quizzed on every aspect of Lila’s life, sure. But not something this comfortable.

Daxton sat at the end of the table closest to the door, and across from him, Augusta watched me over her wine. My feet didn’t want to move, but Knox led me around to the side of the table, and we both sat down. I was two chairs away from Augusta, and I averted my eyes to avoid her burning stare.

“Good evening, Mother,” said Celia. “Daxton.”

Knox echoed her greeting, and they both looked at me expectantly. I swallowed, wishing I’d paid more attention in the lessons about protocol. These people were supposed to be my family, my uncle and grandmother and mother and—fiancé, so bowing wasn’t necessary. But a polite hello probably was.

“Good evening,” I said, forcing a small smile. This seemed to be enough, and they all unfolded their napkins to lay them across their laps. Before this, when I was Kitty instead of the strange fusion of myself and Lila, there was no point using a napkin like that. Nothing I owned was expensive enough to warrant protection from something as simple as broth or water. Now, with the silk I wore and the red wine in my glass, I wished I had a bib.

“We’ve missed you, Lila,” said Augusta in a clipped voice, and I tensed. Underneath the table, Knox set his hand over mine and squeezed it. I didn’t dare look at him, unsure if he meant to reassure me or if this was a natural gesture between him and Lila. “How was your vacation?”

Right. Our cover story—not a lie, really, except the fact that the real Lila had died on the slopes. “Cold,” I said as servants dressed in black began to set dishes in front of us. Lettuce with bits of chicken and drizzled sauce that made my stomach turn, but remembering my training, I picked up the fork farthest from the plate and nibbled on a piece. It tasted as bad as it smelled.

“And?” said Augusta, eyebrow raised. Clearly she expected something more, but I’d never been there, so how was I supposed to report on an unfamiliar place? Lie, I supposed. Convincingly. A little practice wouldn’t hurt.

“Skiing was enjoyable,” I said in Lila’s prim accent. She used a more common dialect when she spoke to the crowds, but I wasn’t supposed to know about those speeches. “I spent so much time on the slopes that I can hardly walk, but nights at the lodge were relaxing.”

This seemed to satisfy Augusta, because Daxton spoke up next. “How are plans for the wedding coming along?”

I didn’t even want to think about it, let alone talk about it, and thankfully Celia jumped in and saved me. “The plans are coming along nicely, thank you for asking,” she said, and I noticed she hadn’t touched her salad. “Everything is on schedule for New Year’s Eve. I hear you’re going on another hunting expedition tomorrow.”

“I am, and I was thinking of taking Lila with me, since it’s only a day trip.”

Beside me, Knox tensed. “I’m sure she could use a few days of rest—”

“No, she should go,” said Celia. She stabbed her salad with enough force to chip the delicate china, though she still didn’t take a bite. “It’d be good for her to see what you do to amuse yourself.”

Knox’s hand tightened around mine. Hunting wouldn’t be so bad, though. The idea of spending the day with Daxton made my skin crawl, but he needed to see that I was willing to do whatever he wanted, and this was the perfect opportunity.

“I agree,” said Augusta. “She should go. Perhaps it will help her better understand how things work.” She eyed me over her wineglass, and I hastily looked down at my plate.

With each new course came questions, and I answered them as best I could. A look from Celia or a squeeze of the hand from Knox told me when I’d made a mistake, and I backtracked quickly.

Augusta and Daxton brought up everything from plans for Lila’s eighteenth birthday celebration in December to her last charity event, where she had worn a dress made by an up-and-coming designer whose name I’d never heard. With each answer I gave, Augusta either nodded or scowled, and I hung on her every gesture, too nervous to eat much. Most of it looked inedible anyway, and anything that tasted good came in such small portions that it hardly made a dent.

By the time a servant set the main course in front of me, I was starving. My mouth watered at the scent of seasoned beef that reminded me of Nina’s cooking, but as I picked up my knife to begin cutting, I remembered that Lila didn’t eat red meat. Maybe Daxton’s plan was to starve me to death instead.

Despite my growling stomach, I set my knife down, and once it became clear I wasn’t going to eat it, my plate was replaced with some kind of vegetable and pork in a sauce that smelled even worse than the salad. But Augusta nodded, and it was worth it.

After what felt like a dozen courses and more questions than I could count, the servants cleared our dessert plates. Augusta set her napkin back on the table and stood. Everyone followed suit, and I mimicked their actions, lacing my fingers together as I waited for the verdict.

“Well,” she said, her focus now entirely on me. “I am pleased you have finally decided to rejoin us, Lila. Do enjoy your hunting trip with Daxton tomorrow, and I shall see you back in Washington in the evening. Your schedule will be sent to you, and I expect you to follow it to the letter.”

For a second I thought I’d heard her wrong. I couldn’t possibly be ready, not this quickly—I’d slipped up at least seven times that I’d noticed, and surely there had been other mistakes I hadn’t realized I’d made.