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follow him out with a backward
glance at the mess. Cleaning up is something Authentic Raven
wouldn’t care about. I see that now. Linc leads me back into the
room with the fireplace. Titus is already there, seated at a small
table by a window, sipping something steamy from a delicate glass
cup. He doesn’t look up from his newspaper when I enter but I have
no doubt he knows I am here.
    Linc stops inside the doorway and
waves me forward. I take the seat across from Titus, scooting my
chair back as far from the table as I dare. When I turn back, Linc
is gone.
    Titus and I are alone.
    He fills the cup in front of me with
an amber liquid that steams as it leaves the spout. Tea, I assume.
I’ve never had it. I begin to lift the cup to my mouth but Titus
stops me. “You take your tea with sugar.”
    My hand falters as I set the cup down
with a clink against the saucer. I fumble with the assortment of
glassware until I pick out the sugar and load a spoonful into my
cup. My movements are quick and jerky, giving away the anxiety
coiling inside me.
    “ Did you have a chance to
look over the albums?” he asks, abruptly setting his paper aside to
look at me. His gaze is direct, challenging, offensive.
    “ Yes, sir.”
    “ And? Do you feel
confident about your ability to identify those within your social
circle?”
    It is not my social circle. It is
hers. But I say only, “I believe so.”
    “ You believe
so?”
    “ I—I think I need more
time. I wasn’t able to remember very many. Can’t we just tell
everyone I still have amnesia? That way I won’t have to
remember—”
    “ Maybe I haven’t made
myself clear. You do not have a choice in the matter of your role
here. You were bred for this purpose. You were made to be her and
so you shall. The fact that you benefit from this arrangement is
merely a fortunate bonus. You will not return home if you displease
me. If you fail, you will be terminated.”
    I am speechless. I suspected as much
but to hear him say it so carelessly, as if I’m nothing more than a
tool, a weapon, an accessory … But he is right. I am not human. I
am not Authentic. I mean nothing.
    “ I understand,” I say
quietly.
    His gaze sharpens and I let my hair
fall over the side of my face. “Something else to work on,” he
says, “is your attitude. My daughter is sure of herself and lowers
her face to no one. Including me.”
    Again, there is the unmistakable hint
of challenge. I force my chin up and out and meet his stare. “Yes,
sir,” I say, packing as much acid into the last word as
possible.
    He nods, as if my answer—the vehemence
in my tone—is exactly what he wanted to hear. “You will work again
with Linc this afternoon. Learn the names and faces. There is a
party tomorrow night, a fundraiser I am sponsoring for a senator,
and you will be there as her or you will be finished
here.”
    He tosses a linen napkin from his lap
onto the table and strides out with heavy footsteps. I am rigid in
my chair, staring at nothing while I concentrate on expanding my
lungs in and out in a way that counteracts the hyperventilation
threatening.
    I am relieved to be left alone,
although I have no doubt I’m being monitored. My attention wanders
to the window. Through the gauzy curtains I see a clear blue sky
lit by cheerful sunshine. It is so opposite to what it feels like
inside these walls and I wish again to be home in Twig City. At
least there my prison includes fresh air. Here, I feel suffocated,
as if the air is thick enough to choke out the real me I’ve buried
deep inside. Soon, all that will be left is her.
    I finish the tea, mostly because it
prolongs what comes next. Titus said I need to study the albums
again and while I’m not upset to spend more time with Linc, the
fact that he already hates me—hates her—suggests I will end up
angry again for reasons I can never explain to him.
    I am already frustrated by the time he
comes for me.
    “ Time for round two,” he
says from the doorway.