“I see you’ve been sneaking cake,” Pryana says, changing the subject.

“I was trying to cheer Amie up.”

“Why was she upset?” Pryana’s voice pitches up an octave.

“She can’t see the weave on the loom. I thought I’d help her, but I couldn’t.”

“It’s tricky,” Pryana says, her eyes glued on mine. “Alteration does funny things to abilities. But I don’t understand why you didn’t tell her the truth about your retrieval.”

“Why would I tell her the truth?” I reply as I pace the small space in front of the icebox.

“Because you hate Cormac,” Pryana says. “He’s the only one who gains anything by your keeping it from her.”

So Pryana does know what Cormac did to my sister. “Amie gains something.”

“And what’s that?” Pryana asks.

“Innocence.”

“Her innocence was robbed from her long ago,” Pryana says, and her tone reminds me that Cormac and the Guild have robbed it from us all.

“She doesn’t know that, though,” I say in a quiet voice. “I can’t quite explain it. If I tell her why she can’t remember and about what happened to our parents, she has to live with that.”

“We all have to live with that,” Pryana reminds me.

“Yeah, we do, but she’s my kid sister. Someday she’ll know. I won’t be able to keep it from her forever. But right now she feels safe. She doesn’t have nightmares. She doesn’t blame herself.”

“And you would rather she blame you?”

I take a deep breath, willing myself to broach a sensitive subject. “Wouldn’t you do that for your sister?”

“I don’t know,” Pryana admits. Her voice shakes. “The Guild took her from me before I had the chance.”

“You could have told Amie the truth. Why didn’t you?”

Pryana hesitates as she twists her fingers together. “I’m not sure. It’s not my place.”

“Why are you being kind to Amie?”

“I don’t have a sister to be nice to anymore,” she says, opening the old wound we share. I’d lost my innocence about the nature of our world long before the day Maela ripped Pryana’s sister and her classmates from their Cypress academy.

“Blame Maela,” I say.

“I do blame Maela,” she says, practically spitting the words at me. “Did it seem like we were best friends back there?”

I give her a grudging no. It sounds like whatever passed between them in my absence was as bad as what I’d endured under Maela. It also feels like Pryana still resents me.

“It’s Cormac,” Pryana says at last. “Maela hates anyone who catches Cormac’s attention.”

“And you were engaged to him,” I say.

“Briefly.” She shrugs. “I’m not exactly sorry to be rid of him. It was only a way out of here.”

“You didn’t want to be Creweler?” I ask, not hiding my surprise.

“I thought I did, but…” Pryana trails off. Her dark eyes meet mine. She doesn’t need to finish the thought. We both know the burdens of being Creweler.

“All of this over a scumbag like Cormac Patton,” I say.

“I was surprised you didn’t know.”

“I hadn’t seen Maela for a long time. I thought she was mad about Erik.”

“Don’t get me wrong. She still hates you more than me, and Erik has a lot to do with that,” Pryana says.

“How would she know about what happened between Erik and me?”

“She saw you kissing him in the garden,” Pryana reminds me.

“I didn’t mean that. Lots has happened since that night…” My thoughts trail away to memories of dancing in a moonlit courtyard and stolen kisses on the rocky shores of Alcatraz. I’m lost thinking of him, and I don’t realize I’ve said too much.

Pryana takes a step back and studies me, then laughs. “You’re in love with him.”

“I…” But I don’t know what to say, because if I lie, she’ll know. I try to fight off the blush stealing over my face.

“The rumor was that you ran away for Jost.” Pryana looks impressed.

“It’s complicated.”

“It usually is when you’re in illicit relationships,” Pryana says, but she’s smiling all the way up to her eyes. “You do have good taste. His hair—he hasn’t cut it?”

I allow myself a small grin and shake my head. Even though the thought of them both, Erik and Jost, of not knowing what’s happening to them, whether they’re safe—it’s almost too much to bear.

“I’m not being nice to Amie for revenge,” Pryana says, circling back to the question that sparked the conversation. “I like Amie. She reminds me of my sister.”

“Pryana.” I pause, unsure how to say this now. It’s much too late for an apology. “I’ve made a lot of excuses for what happened that day, but I’m genuinely sorry about your sister.”

“Me too, and … it’s not your fault.”

This morning I would never have thought she’d admit this to me.

“There are things that no one in Arras knows about,” I say, feeling compelled to share something with her now. “Horrible things. If Amie knew—”