Hotter on the Edge by Erin Kellison Page A

could make out no features, only lily-pale skin swathed in black. The body swung like a large spider.
    Those remaining on the museum floor gasped and sobbed.
    Simon reached with his other arm to double clasp. To save the life.
    But the assassin found purchase with his legs on the wall and wrenched free. Screams followed him down. The assassin broke his back on a reclining marble nude with eerie blank eyeballs.
    Mica's high blades could take her that far without aid. She'd assessed many corpses before, but few humans. She felt stranger still standing over a death in her filmy gown instead of her survey second skin. The assassin's relaxed jaw, in particular, sent a shiver down her spine.
    The person was hairless, including lashes and brows. The facial structure still skewed male. His pale skin was lined with years. Body short and stocky. She felt certain, especially considering the alopecia, that the man was Sol-born. A scavenger.
    "Not another one," her mother said, coming up beside her.
    Mica turned and raised her eyebrows. "Another?"
    Her mother's eyes wandered to take in eavesdroppers. Then, under her breath, "That's the third attempt since this wedding madness started. We've moved up the date, but we can't seem to get Pilar married fast enough."
    Scavengers.
    "And Sr. Adulya," her mother hissed. "This will cause problems. Your father will have to explain."
    The scavenger somehow had gotten inside the museum, perhaps as staff, but since weapons were confiscated and biomatter screened, he'd used what was readily available. Brought the house down.
    A warm arm slipped around her, and she leaned against the familiar wall of a body.
    "We need to get you and your family out of here," Simon urged. "Where there's one ..."
    "Right," Mica finished for him. "…There might be others."
    "Order the car," Simon told her mother.
    Dimly, Mica was aware of her mother moving, the room organizing into purposeful actions. As the guests evacuated, the media bobs found their way inside.
    …Simon Miner…
    …tried to apprehend the assassin, to even save his life…
    …none other than the consort of Mica Sol…
    Voices buzzed around her, but Mica was still arrested by the gawp of the dead man before her. She worked so hard to understand the biology of alien species, but she could not fathom the psychology of her own. Simon had helped her with that.
    A lowborn life, like that of a miner or scavenger, was a life of labor. The chances of escaping that fate were slim. No—Mica regarded Simon, the only person who'd seemed capable of doing it—he'd turned into a lawless criminal, too, taking up the same tactics as the scavengers. She revised her assessment: the chances of escaping a lowborn fate were nil.
    …not hard to see why she chose him to warm her bed…
    …where did he come from?
    …the strength of two men!
    And a life of unending labor was a life of slavery. That life might be more comfortable in Sol City with ready rations and breathable air. But the high plains of the west offered something better—freedom. So the scavengers traded health and long life for self-determination, and hated Sol, and therefore her family, for every hurt their people bore.
    It's why she and Simon had developed the stake system for the mines. Presented it to the shareholders. Got it ratified into law. It had been just the beginning of their ideas for remaking her world. They'd wanted to create doorways through which the enterprising might pass and escape their birth. And right before she'd left, Simon had seemed poised to do just that.
    …hero of the hour…
    …sure to be richly rewarded…
    Why hadn't it worked?
    The weight of the problem settled heavy on her shoulders like the arm of an old companion. Her every step in life as princess and heir of Sol was unbalanced by the load—the inequality among her people. And now she knew what her companion looked like: Lily-pale skin. Stocky body. Unable to grow hair. And in his desperate heart burned the desire to