In a world where diplomacy has become celebrity, a young ambassador survives an assassination attempt and must join with an undercover paparazzo in a race to save her life, spin the story, and secure the future of her young country in this near-future political thriller from the acclaimed author of Mechanique and The Girls at Kingfisher Club . When Suyana, Face of the United Amazonia Rainforest Confederation, is secretly meeting Ethan of the United States for a date that can solidify a relationship for the struggling UARC, the last thing she expected was an assassination attempt. Daniel, a teen runaway turned paparazzi out for his big break, witnesses the first shot hit Suyana, and before he can think about it, he jumps into the fray, telling himself it’s not altruism, it’s the scoop. Now Suyana and Daniel are on the run—and if they don’t keep one step ahead, they’ll lose it all. "Beautifully brutal in the best way. By the end of this book I was on my feet cheering. You will be, too." -- N.K. Jemisin, author of the Hugo Award-winning THE FIFTH SEASON “Suyana Supaki is a heroine you wish were real. She's a living, breathing woman of spirit and mettle—the kind of woman the world hates, for having too much of a mind of her own. Her story in Persona offers the reader a reminder of the enduring power other people have to surprise you, just when it feels like all hope is lost.” -- Sonia Saraiya, television critic at Salon "Blending celebrity and international diplomacy in a near-future Paris, Valentine crafts an intimate thriller that unmasks the players in the game." ― Publishers Weekly "Suyana is a great character—chosen as a puppet, but smarter and more determined than many of those who would pull her strings.” ― Library Journal "Valentine has crafted a really intriguing thriller with Persona , one that reminded me a bit of Max Berry’s brilliant novel Jennifer Government ....a lightning fast read, but there’s as satisfying level of substance to the story that makes this an interesting read from beginning to end." ― io9.com “A tense, wonderfully satisfying tightrope walk of a novel.” ― NPR Genevieve Valentine is the author of Persona and of the critically acclaimed novel Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti , which won the Crawford Award for Best novel, as well as a nomination for the Nebula Award and the Romantic Times Best Fantasy of the Year. Her short fiction has been nominated for a World Fantasy Award and the Shirley Jackson Award. She lives in New York City. Visit her at GenevieveValentine.com. Persona 1 The International Assembly audience hall was half-empty—too empty, Suyana might have said, in her first year there, when she was still surprised by the distance between good public relations and good politics. Now, looking across so many empty seats just made her heavy to the bones. “Georgia,” the proctor called. “Germany. Ghana. Gibraltar.” Missed opportunity, Suyana thought, every time the proctor’s eyes fell on an empty chair. An open vote was one of the rare times Faces pretended at politics. You were voting the way you were told, but even pretending was something, and she couldn’t imagine giving it up. The rest of your life was photo shoots and PSAs and school visits, and saying what your handler told you to say, and going to parties where you tried desperately to look like you belonged amid a sea of other Faces who were higher on the guest list than you were. Suyana put up with the rest of it because three or four times a year, she got to raise her hand and be counted. And today was a vote, and only half were here. Some—the ones who ranked above her on guest lists—didn’t bother. Some feared what would happen if they did the wrong thing in front of the Big Nine, and their handlers had advised them to steer clear. Her stomach twisted. “They might as well just decide without us and inform us how we voted by mail,” she muttered. Magnus said without looking over, “Try to sound professional, please, on the incredibly slim chance a reporter has a camera on you.” No chance. The United Amazonian Rainforest Confederation had only been interesting three years ago, when the outpost got blown to pieces. Cameras had watched her for six weeks, until some other story broke. That was before Magnus had been installed; she suspected he’d have worked harder to keep her in the public eye. She pulled the day’s agenda into her lap, and picked the corners of the page off one at a time, where no one could see. Magnus glanced over, said nothing. In the sea of middle-aged handlers always conferring just out of camera range, Magnus looked more like a Face—tall, slender, fair, with a sharp expression—and she suspected he’d washed out from IA training, once upon a time. Just as well—he cast glances at the Big Nine as if he couldn’t wait to cut himself free of her. Diplomats couldn’t be so nakedly ambitious. Little pieces of paper came off in her hands. She couldn’t