“The ball?”
Renee nodded and absentmindedly picked at her collar. “Yes, there and then Christmas.” She blanched. “And then spring and summer.”
“What happened, Renee? What happens at those trials?”
“It depends on the Sovereign. My year—” Her voice caught in her throat. “They say my year was one of the most brutal in Acquisition history. They say it with pride, like it was a feather in their cap to enjoy so much suffering.”
Though the water was still warm, chills ran up and down my spine.
“Each trial has the same bent—in accordance with tradition—but the Sovereign can choose to add little twists to ‘enhance’ the experience. Christmas was the worst for me.” Her dark eyes sought mine. They were haunted, immensely sad. “The worst for both of us, Rebecca and me. And now I’m afraid it’ll be the worst for you, too.”
“What happened at Christmas, Renee?” I needed to know but dreaded her answer.
“My year? My year, they chained us out in the cold. It was freezing. The three of us shivered and cried. Have you ever been truly cold, to the point where your skin goes numb, but underneath there are a million needle pricks?” Her voice took on a faraway tone, and I realized she was no longer looking at me. She was still chained, cold, and afraid.
“They sat in heated tents and watched, drinking, laughing, and giving in to their most basic desires while we suffered.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. “Then, when they were ready for us, they brought us inside. We were on the verge of hypothermia. One of us even lost a toe from frostbite, though I heard that losing body parts was a rule violation. Everything in moderation.” She laughed, high and desperate.
“They laid us out on the tables in their tents. I was glad to be in the warmth…and then I wasn’t. They took turns. There were so many.” A tremor shot through her.
Horror welled in me. Is that what Vinemont intended to do to me? Let me be raped by the masked ghouls from the ball?
“They hurt me. I can’t lie. They did. But at some point during it, I sort of…disconnected. I was gone, burned away for the rest of the trial and for quite some time after. Rebecca wasn’t so lucky. We had been, we were…”
I reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face with my damp hand. “It’s okay, Renee. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”
I regretted reopening her wounds, but I needed to know. It was now or never.
She rubbed her tears away on her sleeve. “I loved her. I was certain she loved me. But that trial, what they did to me. It changed her, made her cold, hard. That’s how they win. Do you understand? The only way to win is to become one of them, to really be the sort of monster that can rule the entire depraved aristocracy with an iron fist. Do you see? That’s what they’ll do to Mr. Sinclair. He’ll fall. He’ll break. But he’ll win. And when he does…”
Her sad eyes captured mine, foretelling my own dark future by retelling her past. “Rebecca won, but she lost herself.”
Chapter Twenty
Sinclair
“I can’t do anything about it, Lucius.” I sank down into a chair in the study while Lucius paced around the room.
“I’m tired of the Sovereign taking such a huge cut,” Lucius said. “We work our asses off—well at least I do while you’re out playing public servant—and then fucking Cal comes in here and demands a goddamn ransom.”
“You know we have to pay.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We’ve been over this a million times.”
Being Sovereign came with an untold number perks, the main one being a cut of all the income from the other ruling families. There was a yearly price and it was due within the month. Pay or suffer the consequences.
I was already dealing with far too many consequences to add non-payment to the list.
Lucius kicked the waste basket next to my desk. “We’re working the fucking Brazilians to death and putting even more pressure on our already troubled relations with our Mexican producers. Sugar cane isn’t as lucrative as it used to be. Even a fuckwit like Cal should be able to do the simple math.”
“I’m aware. It doesn’t matter. We have to pay Cal.” I couldn’t say it any other way. The facts were what they were.
He stopped pacing and stared out the window into the deepening night. “What else are we going to have to give him?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, who I mean—Stella.” He turned to me, giving me the same pissed off look he’d worn ever since he realized I was the oldest and, therefore, in charge of him.
“Stella is none of your concern. She’s mine.”
His eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to be.”