“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Cormac growls, but he doesn’t touch me again. Instead, he calls for his valet to bring him renewal patches. Security arrives shortly after to escort me to the rebound station. Before I leave, Cormac looks up from his wounds and smiles at me.

“Good night, Adelice. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The farewell is almost sweet, so I nod, confusion churning inside me. As I climb the stairs, trailed by a guard, the emotion inside me shifts to fear.

If I was truly the Whorl, I could hold things together. Instead, everything is unraveling. Even Cormac.

SIXTEEN

AMIE MILLS ABOUT MY QUARTERS WHILE SERVANTS bustle in and out, packing my trunks in preparation for the wedding, which will take place in the Northern Sector. She does a good job of looking excited, but the joy doesn’t reach her eyes. Immediately after I returned from the engagement gala, Cormac sent her a telebound with the news that she wouldn’t be coming to the wedding, leaving me to deal with her disappointment for the past two days. His message explained she was too young to attend a political function.

For once, he’s calling something as it is. Our engagement is politics, after all.

“You aren’t missing anything,” I tell her. “A bunch of snooty ministers and their wives, each vying to be the biggest suck-up.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, but her words are punctuated with sighs. “I can watch on the Stream. You’ll be on the purple carpet. Cormac promised the whole event will be filmed.”

Admiration colors her words and I cringe. I’m no longer the girl who watched the purple carpet with glee in her living room. Now I know about balancing on heels and fending off drunk ministers with grabby hands. But one look at Amie’s face, and I suddenly wish I could enjoy it. I pretend to be giddy—if only to cheer her up for a moment.

“What if I trip?” I ask, dropping onto my bed and widening my eyes for effect.

“You should practice.” Amie plucks a pair of heels from a loaded rack and tosses them next to me. “Show me how it’s done.”

I slip them onto my feet, left foot first. I watch for some sign that Amie has noticed this old ritual of our mother and grandmothers, but there’s no recognition on her face.

“Gloves?” She holds up a pair of petite white gloves.

“They’re back in fashion,” I say in a tight voice.

“I’ll have to get some,” she says as she lays them back on my bed.

I bite my lip so hard I taste iron on my tongue. Cormac’s orders were clear. As soon as I leave the walls of the Coventry, I am to wear them. There’s been no more mention of the permanent solution that will forever cripple my abilities, and for now I can only hope the gloves will pacify him. Either way, after I leave here, I will never touch again. Not really. He’ll rob me of my strongest sense—with a pair of gloves or an alteration. All I will have is the memory of the weave tingling across my fingertips and of the hot pressure of Erik’s fingers threaded through mine.

“Will you return here?” she asks, drawing me back to this moment.

“Cormac expects me to live with him in the Northern Sector,” I tell her as I blink back tears.

“Oh.” Amie deflates a bit in front of me and I grab her hand.

“You can stay with us as soon as this wedding nonsense is over.”

“Promise?”

“I do.” I mean it. If I go through with this, maybe I can rebuild my family a little, but still when Pryana enters the room, I look to her, hopeful she’s come to pass along a message from the Agenda. They must know of Cormac’s plans, but she shakes her head slightly as though she can read my mind. No one is coming to help me.

“Pryana!” Amie jumps up and rushes to greet her. “Adelice says I can live with her and Cormac in the Northern Sector.”

“Good for you.” Pryana’s words are forced and when our eyes meet, recrimination burns behind her irises, although she does her best to hide it. I’m taking another sister from her.

“Come with marital advice?” I ask in an attempt to keep the mood light. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“No, I came with a gift.” Pryana hands me a small wrapped box. “Open it in private. I don’t want to embarrass your sister.”

Amie pretends to cover her ears, but I swat her hands away and fake a laugh.

“Thank you,” I say to Pryana, who gives me a tight smile.

They stay until Amie’s eyelids droop, and then Pryana forces her onto her feet. I wrap my arms around my sister, who’s as tall as me, and try to find a way to say goodbye.

In the end the words were there all along. “I love you, Ames.”

She nods through her tears, releasing me after a few minutes and stepping away, but her eyes stay locked on me as though I might vanish. She doesn’t remember what happened the night of my retrieval, but the wounds are still there.

Pryana gives me a short, awkward hug. “Open the present somewhere safe.”

I nod, wide-eyed as my pulse begins to race. I walk them to the door, torn between sadness and hope, and as soon as it locks behind them I retrieve the box. My fingers tremble as I carry it to the bathroom. I rip into it, discovering another box tucked inside the first—like a toy I had as a child. When I pull it out, the only thing inside is a crystal cube with a delicate, shimmering strand of silver frozen inside.

* * *

The next morning I find myself crammed into a tiny rebound lounge with a party of twenty security personnel and assistants. Despite the large number of people, no one speaks to me. My aesthetician for the trip is bubbly and bright, mindlessly chatting with the other girls who’ve come along to assist her. Alixandra watches from the corner of the room, aloof as usual. Not only from me, it turns out, but from everyone. The guards whisper and stay alert. Tension cuts through the room, needling everyone’s nerves. It’s only been a few days since the attack at the gala, making it feel as though there could be another attack at any time.