Pryana’s eyes roll back. “Don’t play dumb, Adelice. You know what we’re fighting for. Gillian did what she had to do to protect the Whorl.”

“Get out,” I say in a low voice. “Get out and tell whoever else is playing rebel here this: I don’t need protecting.”

Pryana’s eyes narrow, although she doesn’t challenge me. When she leaves, I move to the sink. Placing my hands under the running water, I splash it on my face and watch it stream across my skin. I rinse my face and my neck and my hands until I’m as clear skinned and pure as the girl who stepped forward for me today. But no matter how hard I scrub, I’ll never wash her blood from my hands.

THIRTEEN

A KNOCK SOUNDS AT THE DOOR. No one except Pryana and Amie knocks when they come to visit, and I’m fairly certain they’re both upset with me. People only come to deliver food or clean or check my companel and they never wait for me to let them in. But when I open the door, I know the person is here to see me.

“May I come in?” Maela asks.

I step aside and allow her into my living room. She flits into the space, picking up a vase from the mantel over the fireplace. I half expect her to try to shove it into her pocket. It’s written on her face: these should have been hers. Her quarters. Her job.

Her Cormac.

But that doesn’t explain why she’s here now.

“Can I get you something?” I ask her. “A drink? A map back to your room?”

“It’s lovely to see you, too,” she says. Maela doesn’t take the hint. Instead she drops into a recliner, crossing her legs like she’s getting comfortable.

I give up hope and sit down across from her. “I thought you might visit sooner.”

“Cormac has you under lock and key. I wasn’t allowed,” she explains.

“You’ve never let that stand in the way before.”

Maela sees rules as optional. She showed her flexibility with them more than once during my training—ripping an entire academy, torturing me with razor-sharp thread. It’s not like her to do as she’s told.

“But when I saw you in the dining room earlier, I assumed it was permissible for me to call on you.”

“An interesting meal.” I meet her eyes directly. “I don’t recall interrogation being part of the courses before.”

“Times are different at the Coventry, Adelice.”

“They’re different in all of Arras,” I correct her.

“You’ve proven to be quite the catalyst.” She peers at me, waiting for my reaction. I keep my face blank, despite her accusation. She’s not the first to mistakenly blame me for the unrest in Arras.

“I think there’s a lot more going on here than anything I’ve caused,” I say.

“And yet, here you are. In the penthouse of the high tower. Ring on your finger,” she says.

I twist my engagement ring around, hiding the diamond in my clenched fist. Most days I forget I’m wearing it. Since Cormac comes only once a week, I rarely have to face my impending marriage.

“Why are you here?” I ask. “Or do you just miss torturing me?”

“I have missed your flair for the dramatic.”

“My flair? That’s sort of the pot calling the kettle black,” I say.

“Don’t worry, I’m not looking to be friends with you, Adelice,” Maela says.

“That’s a relief. I’m not taking applications.”

“And yet you let someone like Pryana into your quarters without a second thought.”

“Pryana is a friend.” It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s close.

“You should reconsider who you trust,” Maela warns me.

“That means a lot coming from someone I don’t trust.”

“I have nothing to gain by lying to you.” Maela leans forward as though she’s sharing an intimate bit of knowledge. “Cormac does. Pryana does. Even Erik does.”

“Erik isn’t here to lie to me,” I say, managing to get the words past the lump in my throat.

“Your trust has trapped you,” she says.

“What trapped you, Maela? What made you into such a frightened little bird?” I ask. Doesn’t she know she’s in a cage, not in control? Can’t she see the bars and locks and secrets that keep her here?

Maela flashes me a pert smile, something wild peeking from behind her eyes. But before she can answer me, a tutting noise distracts us both from the fight. Cormac stands in the doorway. I’m not happy he’s caught Maela torturing me. When Cormac has gotten involved in the past, it only led to more trouble from Maela. Now I know why, of course. But knowledge is far from power.

Maela avoided my question before, but the answer is written all over her face when she looks at Cormac. If I thought her capable of it, I might almost believe it was love smoldering in her eyes. Now I know why she never rose further. She built her own prison.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your visit,” he says. “I was told Adelice was alone.”

“Believe me, you aren’t interrupting anything,” I say. “Maela was leaving.”

Maela gives a hollow laugh as she stands. But when she brushes past Cormac, her fingers slide across his shoulder and she whispers something I can’t quite hear.

When she’s gone, I raise an eyebrow.

“You don’t want to know. Maela and I…” He doesn’t finish the thought, but I don’t need him to.