“Of course. She was asking about you,” he tells her. Amie bounces a little, clapping her hands, and I’m taken aback. Maybe the Amie I remembered wasn’t gone. Behind her Cormac smiles at me, revealing rows of perfect teeth.

I can’t bring myself to ask her about Pryana, the one person in the Coventry who has a real reason to hate me. I’d been responsible for her sister’s death, at least in Pryana’s mind. She couldn’t see the lesson Maela wanted to teach us when she ripped most of an academy from Cypress: no one is safe from the Guild, and those at the loom least of all. Pryana had never forgiven me for my inaction. In truth, I’ve never forgiven myself, either.

Amie is led away from my apartment, to her own quarters, and I watch her go, wishing I could think of something better to ask her than what foods she likes now. But the questions I have for her can never be asked in front of Cormac.

Cormac pauses at my door, sliding his bow tie off his collar. For one horrible moment I think he’s going to kiss me as he leans in, but instead he whispers, “Consider my present a reminder of what you have to lose.”

I let him leave without bothering to point out that I’ve already lost her, but when the door closes behind him I rush to the bathroom. It’s still the only place they don’t watch me. I reach under the sink and feel around the pipes until my fingers close over the blade. I hid it in my sleeve at my first dinner when I returned to the Coventry, scared and uncertain of what to expect. But now I’m not thinking about defending myself, I’m considering how and when to strike.

I can’t unwind Cormac, especially now that Amie is finally close. Attacking him like that would only undermine Arras’s situation, and I don’t have everything I need yet. I have to wait for the right opportunity—keep playing along until I can access the alteration information I need to fix my mother and recover the soul strand I hope is kept somewhere in the Coventry’s repository. Once I do that, I’ll need to incapacitate him to put my final plan into place. Arras needs a rebirth and it must begin with Cormac. He must change. If he refuses, I can change his mind for him. I settle onto the floor, the knife cradled carefully in my hand. It reflects the image of my engagement ring, and I choke back a scream.

With Amie here I’ll have another source of information. She will hear things spill from his lips, and if I can earn her trust I will learn those secrets from her. But to do that I must trust her as well. Cormac may have twisted her to his purposes, but the old Amie is in there and I know how she works. I know her heart as well as my own. Cormac thinks he has the upper hand, but two can play this evil game.

Albert’s words echo in my memory:

Destroy the looms. If you choose this path, others will follow you as Whorl. Embrace and trust them, but know their hearts. As you must know your own.

EIGHT

I’M UNCERTAIN WHEN I’LL HEAR FROM MY sister. I’m sure she’s still scared of me after the night on Alcatraz when I unwound Kincaid, but the very next morning a note arrives. She’s arranged for us to have a fitting for new gowns the next day, something I’m not looking forward to. But it’s the first time I’ll be alone with her since my retrieval, so I go with the flow and agree to host it in my overlarge quarters.

As soon as she arrives with Pryana at her side, I know this is a mistake. Pryana’s eyes travel along the walls of my living room, taking in the upholstered sofas and carved tables, all the essence of elegance and wealth.

“Aren’t you moving up in the world.” Pryana isn’t asking me a question. It’s merely an observation—one that reeks of annoyance. This should have been her life.

“It’s not really my taste,” I say, leading them through the apartment to the bedroom. My closet is preconfigured for fittings, with mirror-lined platforms and ample space to work.

Amie dashes in and starts plucking gowns from the racks, holding them up to her slender figure as she eyes herself in the full-length mirror.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have taste as Cormac’s wife.” Pryana speaks in a quiet voice that only I can hear.

“I’m not terribly interested in mirroring my … fiancé’s tastes,” I say.

“How modern of you,” Pryana says. She wanders through my closet, picking up heels from the shoe racks and examining them. “And stupid.”

I snatch the shoes back from her. “I’m known for my abstinence.”

Before the nastiness can escalate between us, Amie coughs politely. I don’t want her caught in the middle of our feud, especially since I can’t trust Pryana’s motivations for getting close to her. But Amie might as well know how Pryana and I feel about each other.

The seamstresses arrive and maids take our dresses, hanging them to wait while we’re measured and sized. Standing with my sister and my old enemy in nothing more than a wispy slip, I feel surprisingly vulnerable. I thought I would outgrow feeling awkward around Pryana, but she’s still as poised as ever. One thing I’m definitely not.

“I love the lace on your hem,” Amie says, darting over to study it. “I think it must be Chantilly.”

It’s such a silly thing to notice, and yet some of the tension in the room evaporates.

“Amie knows everything about textiles,” Pryana explains to me after I give my sister a curious look.

“If I don’t get chosen as a Spinster,” Amie whispers to me, “I want to be assigned to make the dresses.”