The Goddess Inheritance (32 page)

And so the
GODDESS TEST
series concludes—for now.

But Aimée Carter is about to begin a new series.

Turn the page for a glimpse into a new world where a test decides your future but one girl will take destiny into her own hands.

Available late 2013

1

Unlucky

Risking my life to steal an orange was a stupid thing to do, but today of all days, I didn’t care about the consequences. If I were lucky, the Shields would throw me to the ground and put a bullet in my brain.

Dead at seventeen. It would be a relief.

I touched the back of my neck and tried not to wince as I hurried through the crowded market. That morning, my skin had been pale and smooth, with only a freckle below my hairline. Now that noon had come and the test was over, it was marred with black ink that would never come off and ridges that would never smooth over.

III. At least it wasn’t a II, but that wasn’t much of a bright side.

“Kitty,” called Benjy, my boyfriend. He tucked his long red hair behind his ears as he sauntered toward me, taller than most of the others in the marketplace. Many of the women glanced at him as he passed, and my frown deepened.

I couldn’t tell whether Benjy was oblivious or simply immune to my bad mood, but either way, he gave me a quick kiss. “I have a birthday present for you.”

Guilt washed over me. He didn’t see the orange in my hand or understand I was committing a crime. I should’ve never dragged him into this, but he’d insisted on coming, and I had to do this. I’d had one chance to prove that I could be worthwhile to society, and I’d failed. Now I was condemned to spend the rest of my life as something
less
than everyone in that market, all because of the tattoo on the back of my neck. Stealing a piece of fruit meant only for the IVs and successful Vs wouldn’t make the rest of my life any easier, but that small gesture of resistance would be worth it, even if they arrested me. Even if they really did kill me, after all.

The orange felt like wax underneath my fingers, and I held it gently, careful not to squeeze it. This was the first and likely last time I would get to taste an orange, and I wasn’t about to turn it into pulp.

Benjy opened his hand and revealed a tiny purple blossom no bigger than my thumbnail nestled in his palm, and for an irrational moment I wondered if he had stolen it, too. Nothing like that was sold in the market. Unlike me, however, Benjy would never take that risk.

“It’s a violet,” he said. “They’re a perennial flower.”

“I don’t know what that means.” I glanced around, and next to a booth selling pictures of the Valentine family was one boasting perfumes. Tiny purple flowers covered the table. They were only decorations, not a good. Not something that could get him killed or arrested and sent Elsewhere, like my orange. The seller must have let him take one.

“Perennial means that once they’re planted, they keep growing year after year.” He placed the flower in my palm and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “They never give up, like someone I happen to know.”

I managed a smile. “Thank you.” I sniffed the violet, but if it had a scent, it was lost in the smells surrounding us.

Despite the cool autumn day, it was sweltering inside the market. People were packed together, creating a stench that mingled with the sizzling meats, fresh fruit and hundreds of other things the vendors tried to sell. I usually didn’t mind, but today it made my stomach turn.

“We need to go,” I said, cupping my fingers around the flower to keep it safe. The orange in my other hand seemed to grow heavier with every second that passed, and it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed us. Benjy stood out in a crowd.

His eyes flickered toward the orange, but he was silent as he followed me toward the exit, slinging his arm around my shoulders. I tensed at his touch, waiting for him to brush my hair away and spot my tattoo. He hadn’t asked yet, but that courtesy wouldn’t last forever.

I’d seen the posters and heard the speeches. Everyone had. We all had our rightful place in society, and it was up to us to decide what that was. Study hard, earn good grades, learn everything we could and prove we were special. And when we turned seventeen and took the test, we would be rewarded with a good job, a nice place to live and satisfaction that we contributed to our society—everything we would ever need to lead a meaningful life.

That was all I’d ever wanted: to prove myself, to prove that I was better than the Extra I really was. I deserved to exist, even though I was a second child, and the Valentines hadn’t made a mistake not sending me Elsewhere.

Now my chance was over, and I couldn’t even earn an average IV. Instead of living that meaningful life I’d been promised since before I could remember, I’d managed a III. There was nothing special about me—I was just another Extra who, according to the government, should have never been born in the first place.

I was a waste.

Worst of all, as much as I wanted to hate them for my III, it wasn’t the government’s fault. Everyone had an equal shot, and I’d blown mine. Now I had to live with the shame of having a permanent record of my failure tattooed onto the back of my neck for everyone to see, and I wasn’t so sure I could do it.

Benjy and I had nearly reached the exit when a weedy man dressed in a Shield uniform stepped in front of me, his arm outstretched as he silently demanded my loot. The pistol holstered to his side left me no choice.

“I found it on the ground,” I lied as I forked over the orange. “I was about to return it to the merchant.”

“Of course you were,” said the Shield, and he rotated his finger, a clear sign he wanted me to turn around. Benjy dropped his arm, and panic spread through me, white-hot and urging me to run.

But if I took off, he might blame Benjy, and all I could hope for now was that my stupid decision didn’t affect him, too. Benjy had a month to go before he turned seventeen, and until then, he wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Until that morning, I hadn’t been either.

The stares of the crowd made my cheeks burn as I turned and gathered my dirty-blond hair away from the nape of my neck. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t hide the mark or the angry red blotch that surrounded it, still painful from the needle that had etched my rank into my skin.

Benjy stiffened at the sight of my III. I stared straight ahead, unable to look him in the eye.

The man brushed his fingertips against the mark, feeling the three ridges underneath that proved it wasn’t altered. Satisfied, he dropped his hand. “Is she telling the truth?” he said, and Benjy nodded, not missing a beat.

“Yes, sir. We were on our way to the stall now.” Benjy twisted around to give him a glimpse of his bare neck. “We’re only here to look around.”

The Shield grunted, and he tossed the orange in the air and caught it. I scowled. Was he going to let me go or force me to my knees and shoot me? Less than five feet away, browned blood from another thief still stained the ground. I forced myself not to look.

Maybe he’d send me Elsewhere instead, but I doubted it. The bastard looked trigger-happy.

“I see,” he said. He leaned in closer to me, and I wrinkled my nose at his sour breath. “Did you know your eyes are the same shade as Lila Valentine’s?”

Lila Valentine, the niece of the Prime Minister, was so wildly popular that hardly a week went by when someone didn’t mention that the bizarre blue shade of my eyes matched hers.

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “Never heard that before in my life.”

The Shield straightened. “What’s your name?”

“Kitty Doe,” I said, trying to keep the snarl out of my voice. No one with an ounce of self-preservation talked to a Shield like that, but after what had happened this morning, I didn’t have it in me to kiss anyone’s ass.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Benjy frown, and I could almost hear his silent question.
What do you think you’re doing?

Stupidly risking my life, that’s what.

The Shield stroked his pistol. “Stay put. Move, and I’ll kill you, got it?”

I nodded mutely. Not like I could tell him no, after all.

The man turned his back, slipping through the crowd and putting several people between us. Benjy touched my elbow, and our eyes met. No need for words. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

Without hesitating, we bolted.

Acknowledgments

Writing the conclusion to Kate Winters’ story is one of the hardest and most rewarding things I’ve ever done, but it would have never been possible without the enthusiasm and support of readers.

So first and foremost, thank you—yes, you—for reading this series. I could have never done this without you.

In addition, I’d like to acknowledge and thank the following people:

As always, I would be nowhere without my magical agent, Rosemary Stimola, and her endless knowledge and support.

The entire Harlequin TEEN team, especially my incredible editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey, senior editor Natashya Wilson, and PR extraordinaire Lisa Wray. Thank you all for taking a chance on these books.

Caitlin Straw, for putting up with me every step of the way.

The ever-growing community of YA bloggers, especially those who supported this series from the beginning.

All of my writer friends, especially Courtney Allison Moulton, Carrie Harris, Lauren DeStefano, Sarah J. Maas, and Melissa Anelli.

All of the people in my life who have ever listened to me ramble about writing, especially Nick Navarre, Ally Hess, Kendall Basore, and Kristine Kempl.

The mother council, including Karla Olson-Bellfi, Barb Zdan, Mary Sweet, Lisa Rutledge, Mary Robert, and Sue Edwards-Haesler.

But most of all, I want to thank my father, Richard Carter, for all of his sacrifice, support, and corny jokes. You’re the best dad I could ever ask for. Love you most.

Keep reading for an excerpt from
Goddess Interrupted
by Aimée Carter!

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

Subscribe to our newsletter:
Harlequin.com/newsletters

Visit
Harlequin.com

We like you—why not like us on Facebook:
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

Follow us on Twitter:
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books:
HarlequinBlog.com

Prologue

Calliope trudged through the sunny field as she ignored the babble of the redhead trailing behind her. Ingrid was the first mortal who had tried to pass the test to become Henry’s wife, and maybe if he’d spent more than five minutes a day with her, Henry would’ve understood why Calliope had killed her.

“You’re in for a treat,” said Ingrid, scooping up a rabbit from the tall grass and hugging it to her chest. “Everything’s going to bloom at noon.”

“Like it did yesterday?” said Calliope. “And the day before that? And the day before that?”

Ingrid beamed. “Isn’t it beautiful? Did you see the butterflies?”

“Yes, I saw the butterflies,” said Calliope. “And the deer. And every other pointless piece of your afterlife.”

A dark cloud passed over Ingrid’s face. “I’m sorry you think it’s stupid, but it’s my afterlife, and I like it this way.”

It took a great deal of effort, but Calliope fought off the urge to roll her eyes. Upsetting Ingrid would only make things worse, and at the rate this was going, it would be ages before Calliope got out of here. “You’re right,” she said tightly. “It’s only that I never spend any time in this realm, so the process is unfamiliar to me.”

Ingrid relaxed and ran her fingers through the rabbit’s fur. “Of course you don’t spend time here,” she said with a giggle that set Calliope’s teeth on edge. “You’re a goddess. You can’t die. Unlike me,” she added, skipping across a few feet of meadow. “But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

If that idiot of a girl knew a damn thing, she’d have known that Calliope wasn’t just any goddess. She was one of the original six members of the council, before they’d had children and the council had expanded. Before her husband had decided fidelity was beneath him. Before they’d started handing out immortality like it was candy. She was the daughter of Titans, and she wasn’t merely a goddess. She was a queen.

And no matter what the council and that bitch Kate had decided, she didn’t deserve to be here.

“Good,” said Calliope. “Death is a stupid thing to fear.”

“Henry makes sure I’m comfortable. He comes by every once in a while and spends the afternoon with me,” said Ingrid, and she added with a catty grin, “You never did tell me who won.”

Calliope opened her mouth to say that it wasn’t a contest, but that wasn’t true. Every part of it had been a competition, and she’d worked for the prize far more than the others. She’d wiped out her opponents masterfully. Even Kate would have died if Henry and Diana hadn’t intervened.