“This way, miss.” The usher led her to a lift paneled in mirrors and mother-of-pearl. Classical music softly followed, stirring visions of golden harps. They rose in silence and, for a moment, Daisy wondered if this was heaven.
The doors opened onto a corridor of soft white carpet. Paintings of swans adorned the walls, divided by glossy, white doors distinguished only by numbers etched in gold.
“Here we are, Nineteen Twenty-Two.” He pressed the key against the digital box, and the lock clicked.
Her bag, as promised, waited on a small ivory table by the door.
“The Steward will be with you shortly.” He dipped forward in a slight bow, then he was gone, leaving Daisy standing alone in what was easily the nicest room she’d ever stood in.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered in awe of her surroundings.
The suite was a temple to elegance. Ivory walls, marble furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows draped in pristine sheer curtains that drifted in some artificial breeze. The sitting area alone was larger than her entire flat, furnished with sofas upholstered in velvet shades of pearl.
A white granite fireplace created a stunning centerpiece on the far wall. She half-expected someone to come rushing in, declaring some mistake had been made, and escort her out the back door away from this real-life palace.
She never felt so out of place in her life. A stain on silk.
A soft knock at the door made her flinch. The door opened before she said a word.
“Good evening,” came the woman’s soft, musical greeting as a stunning woman draped in cashmere crossed the threshold. Her long strawberry blonde hair flowed over her shoulders like ripples under a golden sunset. “I’m Aunt Vanessa.”
She was so striking, her age was difficult to discern, maybe thirty-five or perhaps forty. Her voice carried a trace of an accent. Armenian, possibly. Immaculate, aside from one contrasting scar on her lip, a single flaw on an otherwise flawless canvas—proof she was actually human.
“Most of the girls call me Aunt V.” She smiled, the expression only enhancing her radiance. “May I come in?”
She was already inside the suite, but Daisy didn’t mind. Her unguarded attitude put her at ease. So natural, like a flower that had every right to grow wherever it wanted in a field.
She glided with a kind of confidence that took years to master. Graceful without theatrics. Imperious and somehow comforting.
“What do you say we take a seat and get acquainted?”
Daisy nodded and followed her to the ivory seating area.
“I know this is overwhelming.” Aunt V gently said, settling onto one of the pearl sofas. She patted the cushion beside her. “Please. Sit. Let me explain what comes next.”
Eager to find out, Daisy perched on the edge of the cushion, afraid her travel clothes might leave a smudge.
Aunt V’s hands folded gracefully on her lap, over a white leather portfolio as she smiled at Daisy. “Tomorrow, you’ll undergo what we call The Becoming. A full day of treatments designed to prepare you for the evening’s festivities. Massage, body work, beauty treatments, consultations with some of the world’s greatest hair stylists—everything you need to feel confident and beautiful.” Her smile didn’t waver. “The Becoming helps tributes become the best possible version of themselves.” She leaned closer, her delicate perfume so appealing that Daisy found herself leaning into the scent. “Honestly, it was one of my favorite parts of the experience.”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “You were a tribute?”
“Many years ago, at the very first feast.” Her laugh was rich like dark honey. “I was terrified. Dirt poor. Convinced I was making the worst mistake of my life.”
She didn’t appear to be any of those things now. “Did you regret it?”
Aunt V’s gaze shifted as if looking back in time. Her smile turned thoughtful as her voice softened. “It changed my life. One night, gone in the blink of an eye, like a dream that fades just after dawn. Everything that came after… Everything I have, everything I am… I owe it all to J. Thorne.” Her impeccably manicured fingers squeezed Daisy’s work-roughened hands. “I have no regrets.”
Changed. Not improved. Not ruined. Changed.
“Now.” Aunt V rose with fluid grace. “There are a few formalities. First, you’ll need to sign this.” She produced a document from the leather portfolio. “It confirms your continued consent and reiterates the terms of your agreement. Standard procedure.”
Daisy skimmed the page. More legal language, more clauses about confidentiality and liability. Her signature would affirm her willingness to continue.
“And if I don’t sign?”
Her question confused Aunt V, leaving her head cocked in concern. “Well, in that case, we would escort you back to the airport and see that you were fairly compensated for any inconveniences. You would then be safely transported home at your earliest convenience. Is that what you wish?”
Her continued courtesy surprised Daisy. She was glad to hear there was no penalty if she changed her mind. “No, I was just curious.”
