It's not that I'm ungrateful, or even that I don't understand the gifts I've been given by my Viry parents: my auburn—albeit darker auburn—hair, my green eyes, my long nose.

It's just that I'm desperately miserable, and my life doesn't seem to be headed in a direction that will change my outlook. If anything, the future seems bleaker than my past.

"Nadezhda Radoslav." Asevy's shrill voice cuts off my internal narration, her use of my full name causing my molars to grind together. "Are you going to join the class, or would you prefer to spend your time out here daydreaming?"

A quick glance around catches my classmates' smug looks. Only Milo looks remotely sympathetic. Actually, he looks more bemused than anything. As if I'm a puppy caught chewing my master's shoes. Amusement patiently masking frustration.

"Well, let's go, let's go." Asevy ushers everyone through the main gate and inside the walls of the Krasavets Palace's outer courtyard. I've been here plenty of times; every Induction, all Viry invitees are welcomed into the walls of Krasavets District to celebrate our future.

Because my class will be Inducted in just under two months, we're getting the full tour today. Asevy is at the front of our little group, her long red braid bouncing against her back with each step and her ringing voice mercifully muffled as she projects it in front of her.

My heels join the others in the class, clicking a symphony across the smooth stone walkways as we head down the main strip toward the fountain in front of the main palace entrance. The Krasavets Palace was built atop the ruins of what used to a university named for some leader of the old world, and it has kept the rough shape of the area once known only as "the Quad".

James Madison. I say the name to myself, as I do whenever I think of Krasavets Palace's origin. I love how odd-sounding the old world's first names were.

The Viry crave beauty in everything, so the architecture is complex, with designs built into the brickwork of each building's facades. Any remains of the original buildings were torn down well before I was born. Still, I imagine a time in which people spent the night at school and wandered around these halls a without any reverence for the royalty that would one day step here.

"This way, this way." Asevy continues through a corridor and back into the sunshine of the inner courtyard.

Beautiful people litter the grass, lounging in the sun, chatting in small groups, a few reading quietly. With the mid-summer sunlight filtering through the small trees that have sprouted since the Third World War, this courtyard looks like an oasis. What perfect propaganda for the Viry; I can feel my classmates' excitement over the prospect of joining the royals soon.

I wonder what must be wrong with me. Beyond mild curiosity, there's nothing stirring inside me, no longing to be accepted here. Maybe because they had the chance to accept us all when we were born, and instead they threw us out, amongst the ugly of the world.

"This is the Inner Sanctum." Asevy faces us, perhaps finally realizing her voice hasn't been reaching us. "You can look forward to spending many of your days here, enjoying the beauty of each other and the natural world."

"So all Levels associate with each other here?" Vedran scans the area, his normal look of disdain deepening.

Vedran is a Kir; like Asevy, his red hair and blue eyes mark him as the highest level in our royal hierarchy of beauty.

"Housing is separated by rank, but in the Sanctum, all Levels are welcome," Asevy says. "Inside the palace, the Kir reside on the top floor, each floor level beneath corresponding to the hierarchy. The homes along the outside of the palace are for Level 5, and any Viry Helpers."

"What about those Matched with a member of a different level?" I say, for once actually curious. "Where would they live?"

Milo narrows his eyes at me, just briefly, but I know I've offended him.

"Matches reside at the level of the lower Partner. However, provide Novy Mir with enough Viry children, and your housing status could increase."

Milo is a Level 4, with his dark blonde hair and blue eyes; I am a Level 3, the reddish tone of my hair elevating me above him. Since the Krasne Pravitko has already chosen him for my Match upon joining the Viry, I suppose this means we will reside on the first floor of the Krasavets Palace.

Unless of course I birth enough beautiful children for our country.

"Any other questions? Let's continue, then." Asevy turns and leads us down the center path through the courtyard. She stops in front of a wide balcony three floors up, facing the middle of the open space. There are two smaller balconies on either side of the wide one a floor down, adding to the symmetrical appeal of the facade.

"This is where our leader Iskren Culum Inducts new members into the Viryavati."

Asevy is the only person I know who ever calls the Viry by their full name. Viryavati comes from an archaic word meaning "gorgeous" and therefore is a fitting title for the "beautiful" royalty.

We all recognize the stage in front of us; we've heard the cheers as new Viry are Inducted each year, but always from the outer courtyard, watching the ceremony on large screens around the fountain. Only those who have already officially joined the Viry are allowed inside the Sanctum during Induction.

Across the courtyard, the building mirrors this one, although the third floor balcony is not quite so grand. The courtyard itself is not so wide, probably less than five hundred feet across.

"On to the Laboratory." Asevy trots down the sidewalk, the rest of us hurrying to keep up.

My stomach flops in time with my steps as I follow along. The Krasne Pravitko has told us that beauty is a genetic condition, that with the correct breeding practices and pedigree, a Match can produce this superior race through their children: the Viry.

I can't help wondering about all the non-Viry in Novy Mir. The Law allows non-Viry one child of their own; otherwise, they must care for the offspring of the Viry. So how are there so many not invited back into the Krasavets Palace? If the Krasne Pravitko really has isolated a beauty-gene, why do the Viry still manage to produce some children who don't quite measure up?

Asevy eyes me as I pass her to enter the long, white room. Maybe she can tell my mind has begun to drift. It's happened often enough in her Viry Prep Sessions.

"Please line up here." She points to a table near the door, where a lovely blonde woman waits with a gloved-hand extended. "Ciril will take a sample of your blood for the archives. One never knows when his or her bloodline could become the dominant royal line."

Vedran's back straightens three people in front of me, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Behind him, Milja flips her white-blonde hair over her shoulder and smiles. Iskren couldn't have chosen a better Match, and the two of them seem rather confident their offspring will all turn out beautiful.

And they should, following the logic of the Krasne Pravitko. According to the literature I've read since beginning my Viry Preparations, the chromosome for red hair and blonde hair are so similar that they can also produce the other's result. Theoretically, if both red and blonde genes are dominant, then there should be no room for error.

Yet, quite often, a child with Viry parents will have darker hair, or brown eyes, or some other characteristic that the Krasne Pravitko claims is recessive and labels that person unfit for the Viry.

I wince as Ciril stabs my finger, but don't look away as she squeezes my blood into the waiting vial. My heartbeat picks up at the trail of red rolling down the sides of the glass, and the scars on my arms itch under the thick layer of scar cream I'd applied this morning.

That reminds me of another issue I have with the Krasne Pravitko's representation of our royalty. They claim beauty is superior; it is power and health and strength. That beautiful people outlive those with lesser genes, so we must always strive for perfection. They claim the Viry are solely concerned with genetics, but presentation seems to be more important than the science. Any flaws, blemishes, disfigurements, no matter how minute, are seen as weakness. Anything that is not natural, from scars to artificially curled hair, are ugly and therefore not Viry. A rueful smile twists my lips when I remember trying to curl my hair at my then-friend Amela's house several years ago. Not only was I forbidden from ever speaking to her again, but I was beaten with Father's belt for "attempting to alter the state of beauty bestowed upon me by my Viry parents."

He's the biggest hypocrite of them all.

Ciril gives me my finger back, and Milo takes my place.

Perhaps this is the root of my loathing for the Viry; throughout my childhood, if I ever "disrupted my beauty", whether on purpose, like cutting a chunk of my hair with children's scissors, or accidentally, like the time I crashed Krishel's bike into a tree and scraped my face, I was punished. Never hard enough to do permanent damage, usually nowhere that would show. But I've felt the sting of leather across my upper hamstrings more times than I can count, all to teach me to preserve my beauty.

I would rather have been cherished growing up than "preserved". Non-Viry don't seem to realize that they've got the better end of the deal. They may not be beautiful, but they are appreciated by their family for themselves, not their looks. And they are free. Free to have real friends, not status-seekers or obligatory future-Viry acquaintances. Free to choose whichever path they want. And free to Choose their Partner rather than having a Matching Board Choose for them.

I glance at Milo again. He's frowning at the tip of his finger, pressing the cotton swab against the pinprick.

Once they've added each of us to their archives, Asevy asks if we have any questions for Ciril. I want to ask about the genetics, about why the Viry allow hazel eyes, but not brown, about why some children are still born ugly. But Asevy's eyes are stabbing me, silently chastising me before I've opened my mouth.

I'm sure she's as relieved as I am there are only about six weeks left of Viry Prep, six weeks until I, and my questions, are forever out of her life.

Vedran has asked something profoundly stupid. I didn't hear the question, but that it came from his mouth is all I need to know.

"We can't monitor the blood samples for signs of superiority, no," Ciril says, "but if a certain trait starts manifesting itself, we can backtrace the genetics through the blood, and name the line for the origin of said trait."

Vedran must be concerned with how soon he can create a royal bloodline. What he must not realize, what no one is saying, is that all of our traits are similar to those exhibited by Father Nikolai, the founder of our nation-state Novy Mir and creator of the Royal Hierarchy of the Viryavati, and his Kir Partner, Triska. The dominate bloodlines are always Triska's, for the recognition goes to the mother of perfection.

Honestly, for how little I've paid attention in class over the years, I seem to be the only one who really understands how flawed our beautiful society is.

Asevy leads us from the room, back into the Inner Sanctum. Across the lawn, up to the fifth floor, the Kir level.

"After our tour of a Viry compartment, you will be free to mingle in the courtyard with your future Viry acquaintances. Do not stray too far, though. I've promised your families you'll be home well before dinner."

Asevy raps her knuckles impatiently against a solid mahogany door. The redhead who opens it smiles, but her eyes are screaming with anxiety.

"Asevy, welcome," she says. "Please, come in."

"Thank you, Janika." Asevy sweeps past the younger woman without looking directly at her. We file in behind Asevy; though Janika gives everyone an individual smile, I'm the only one who makes eye contact with her. The genuine smile I give her wipes the anxiety from her eyes, at least for the moment.

"Janika has been kind enough to allow her apartment to serve as an example of Viryavati living." Asevy stands in the living room, commanding possession of our attention as if she were showing her own apartment.

I wonder briefly why she isn't showing us hers.

"Janika joined the Viry five years ago, when she was sixteen."

That tension is back in Janika's eyes, which widen when Milja says, "I thought you have to wait until you're eighteen to join the Viry."

She gives Janika a dirty look, as if she begrudges the Kir her loss of freedom two years early. Then again, I'm probably the only one who views Induction in that way.

Janika's face is red as her hair as she mumbles, "There were special circumstances."

"Iskren didn't want Janika's Match to have to wait the extra time for her." Asevy gives her a tight smile. If one didn't know better, it would appear Asevy is impressed with Janika.

But I do know better. Asevy has given me that deadly smile plenty of times. She's waiting to humiliate Janika; suddenly, I'm feeling very defensive of the girl.

"Let's see the rest of the house, shall we?" Though Asevy has made it clear she's in charge of this tour, she gestures for Janika to lead the way.

We move through a small but functional kitchen and down a small hallway to an imposing bedroom. A large bed dominates the far wall, with a comfortable sitting area arranged in front of an elegant fireplace closer to the door. Otherwise, the walls are spartan.

"And here beside the bedroom is the nursery," Asevy says.

We pile into a small room that somehow fits a crib, rocking chair, and changing station.

"I know you are all aware of the Procreation Laws, but now that you are about to be Inducted, it is time you learn the protocol for the distribution of Viry children."

Asevy nods to Janika, who swallows hard before clearing her throat. "Viry Selection Day is held a week after Induction. Each year, all of the babies born prior to that day are submitted for Selection by the Obichny population.

Obichny, or Obies, usually refers to the non-Viry with specialized skill sets: the doctors, the teachers, and the scientists, but I've heard plenty of Viry refer to the entire non-Viry population as Obies.

"An Obi family has three years to choose a child before the Krasne Pravitko assigns one to them. Likewise, a Viry child has up to five years to be chosen before he is assigned."

My stomach churns at the idea that we're picked over, even from birth, some discarded immediately, others carefully examined for signs their baby-perfection will diminish with age.

"Might I impose upon you a question of a more personal nature?" Asevy asks sweetly.

I almost answer "no" for Janika, but she nods, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing.

"How many children have you produced for Novy Mir?"

There's a gloating light in Asevy's eyes. Here is the promised humiliation.

Janika drops her eyes. "None that have lived."

Asevy looks at each of us, her eyes lingering on mine. "As you can see the Krasne Pravitko is kind to those who have trouble upholding their patriotic duties by producing heirs. You have nothing to fear about not being good enough. Janika, please tell everyone what Iskren has done for you."

Janika looks near to tears, but her voice is steady when she speaks. "He has allowed us to remain in our apartment, rather than lowering our living status. And there are many procedures offered through the Krasne Pravitko's Laboratory. I am very hopeful the latest of which will work. Failing that, though, I would remove myself from the Krasavets Palace and spend my days caring for new Viry Inductees with the other Viry Helpers."

"What kind of 'procedures'?" Milja crosses her arms.

Janika pales and looks to Asevy. I'm surprised Asevy doesn't make her say.

"Never mind that," Asevy says quickly. "If your genes are strong and your bodies pure, you will have no trouble reproducing and therefore won't need to concern yourself with such procedures. Now, back to the Sanctum."

When I glance back at Janika before we go, I'm not the only one. It is strictly forbidden for a Viry invitee to engage in any sort of impure physical act. Doing so at the very least could interfere with the genes passed on, or could result in an unwanted, non-Viry pregnancy at worst. The mother and father would be severely punished in that case: the non-Viry offender would be sentenced to a life as a single parent; the Viry offender would be put to death for treason against the hierarchy. After all, no one looks up to the non-Viry, but everyone idolizes the beautiful.

So for Asevy to insinuate Janika was impure when she joined the Viry is rather scandalous. I'm surprised Janika didn't challenge Asevy, and I hang back as the others move into the courtyard, hoping Janika will come along.

She does follow behind us, but she keeps far back from Asevy.

"That wasn't very nice of Asevy," I say quietly. "You were good enough to volunteer your home; she shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

But Janika shakes her head. "I didn't really have a choice. As Asevy so tactfully pointed out, my home has no crying baby to worry about. And she can do whatever she likes with me; she is my birth mother, and I am a fantastic disappointment for her."

I stare at her, open-mouthed. "I hadn't realized families would be reconnected after Induction."

I'm not sure if this makes joining the Viry more or less appealing. Can I forgive my mother for letting me go so easily? Clearly, people do.

"I'd say it's about fifty-fifty. Some people don't care to know. But those with stronger bloodlines, those closer to the Culum line, or even to Father Nikolai, like to keep tabs on their descendants." She gives me a sardonic smirk. "So you can see why Asevy is so disappointed; her line is nearing extinction, at least through me. My brother has produced three Viry children already, but since the bloodline passes through the mother..."

"Is what she said true?" I bite my lip, hoping not to offend Janika. She could become my first real friend. "I mean, you don't have to answer that."

"Is what true? My impurity?" Janika laughs. "I wish it were." The words are hushed, and I have to lean closer to hear. "He would have been worth it. That's why I joined the Viry so early; Asevy found out I'd fallen in love with an Obi. My heart had been touched, but in the technical sense, I was pure when I was Inducted. I've only ever been with my Match. That is, until the procedures."

She shivers, then looks me in the eye. "Pray you give birth easily. You do not want to go to the Laboratory. Iskren makes it sound as if it's a glorious favor that the Krasne Pravitko is so patient with women like me, who've miscarried, but it's horrible." Her voice is choked a bit now. "They'll put whatever they want inside you, for the sake of 'science'."

I want to ask more, but Janika wraps her arms around herself. Instead, we sit in silence, both looking out over the grounds. My classmates have spread out, interrupting conversations all over the place, inserting themselves into Viry life.

"What do the Helpers do?" I hadn't heard of Viry Helpers before today, and I wonder why we've never learned about them in our Prep Sessions.

"The Viry only surround themselves with beauty, so even the Help must be attractive to look at. We have some Obies who work inside Krasavets District, like the doctors, but mostly it's the Helpers, those who have failed to give Novy Mir any heirs. They do anything Iskren requests of them. Usually it's caring for newborns so the mothers can rest." Janika gives me a sidelong glance. "Of course, the Krasne Pravitko wouldn't want us knowing if there are any worse jobs. Everything is beautiful and carefree within the walls of Krasavets Palace."

I laugh softly at her sarcasm. Janika is something of a kindred spirit. Perhaps the one bright spot of joining the Viry will be having someone to share in my discontent.

It feels like no time at all before Asevy gestures for everyone to regroup from across the courtyard, a special glare directed our way.

"I guess I'll see you around," I say. Janika grabs my hand before I can leave her side.

"Don't. If there's any way for you to stay out of the Viry, take it."

My heart stutters against my ribcage. It's not that I haven't thought of it before; I'd give anything, do anything to be a normal child, with mediocre looks and a family who's loved me from the start.

"I see myself in you," Janika says. "If we're anything alike, they will crush you as they have me. Find a way out and take it without hesitating."

"Nadezhda!" Asevy's call brings many heads around, and I scowl.

Janika nods her understanding. "You don't belong in this box. Good luck."

I squeeze her hand before pulling away. "Same to you."

*

I remember the exact night I decided I had an issue with the Viry and their rules. It was sparked by a conversation over dinner when I was ten years old. After learning about the different sectors in school, I'd asked what happens to those who don't join the Viry.

"Well," Mother had said, "the strong are Selected to join the Kuzabn and protect Novy Mir from attacks by other countries and keep order within the nation."

Father had scraped half his mashed potatoes onto little Krishel's plate. "That's why we've got to beef you up, boy. You could have the honor of being Kuzabn."

"Then there are the normal Obichny," Mother continued. "The teachers, doctors, cooks. After them come the Troods, the people who work with their hands, fixing vehicles, farming, building houses—"

"I wanna build a house!" Krishel's mouth was full of mashed potatoes, and when he smiled, some pushed through his teeth. I had giggled behind my hand.

"Nonsense," Mother said. "You'll be Kuzabn."

"Could I be Kuzabn, too?" I wiggled my eyebrows at my younger brother. I had just learned how to do this well, and it always made him chuckle.

"Of course not, Nadia, darling. You will join the Viryavati."

That had confirmed it for me; I had already begun to realize I didn't look much like my family, thought perhaps I may be different. Viry.

That was how I'd ended up with my parents, Zarko and Senka Radoslav, and their son, Krishel.

I stabbed at a green bean on my plate. "What if I don't want to be Viry?"

Father had reached across the table so quickly he toppled my milk glass. His hand closed around my forearm, the pressure making me whimper.

"You'll do as you're told, young lady. You were born Viry, and by Nikolai you will rejoin them when you turn eighteen or so help me..."

His grip had tightened, my fingers going numb, then he released me. I bit my lip and watched the milk spread across the tablecloth until my vision blurred.

That was only the beginning.