The Western Coventry’s rebound station is prepped for our departure and there’s not much waiting around. Half of the security team is going in advance, with the other half following behind. I’ve been briefed a dozen times on the schedule and on contingencies to the schedule and on contingencies to the contingencies.

I don’t even pretend to care. I am going to marry Cormac. I will never use my gift again. These words echo through my empty mind, threatening to destroy what little I have left. All my energy is spent on staying sane.

We wait for the first set of rebounds to finish and I sit alone, hoping to catch bits of news from careless lips. This is what I’ve become. A wisp. A nothing. Forced to latch on to gossip—as if it will ever do any good.

“Can you imagine sending any other Spinster with this entourage?” a girl says in a lowered voice. She’s not quite whispering—she clearly wants to be heard. Her words are tainted with a listen-to-me tone.

“I thought we were in a state of austerity, but I guess not if you’re the prime minister’s wife.”

“Future wife,” a girl corrects her in an almost hopeful voice.

“I heard Patton’s gone crazy,” the girl says. “I think this whole thing proves how paranoid he’s become.”

“Oh, I heard that, too! But they’re saying he’s a shoo-in for the next election.”

I want to ask who they are hearing these things from, but I keep silent.

“I think something strange is going on,” a girl says. “Patton isn’t just going crazy. It’s like he’s a different person.”

“Well, that person is going to win reelection,” chirps another.

“And I assume you are all on such familiar terms with Minister Patton that you’re comfortable sharing such factual accounts,” Alixandra says, stepping out from behind the group. Her face is blank and I want to know what she thinks about what the girls are saying. But as usual, she’s removed and professional—and utterly unreadable.

“No harm in a little gossip,” one of the girls says, tacking on a nervous giggle as if to imply they were only being silly.

Alixandra leans in and sizes her up before shifting back onto the heels of her boots. “There’s a lot of harm in it, but not for the person being gossiped about, if you catch my drift.”

Most of them nod, but as soon as she steps away their faces turn nasty behind her back. I’m certain Alixandra can feel their expressions, even if she doesn’t see them. I recall the sensation of tiny daggers in my back, a feeling familiar from my testing. Unlike me, Alixandra doesn’t seem bothered by it.

But I have learned one thing, at least. I’m not the only one concerned about changes in Cormac Patton. It sounds like the rumors are becoming more widespread. People everywhere are talking about it. What effect will this have on his plans? If faith in Cormac has already been undermined, what purpose can the wedding really serve?

“We’re ready for the next party,” the stewardess says, checking a list on her clipboard.

“That’s us,” Alixandra says, taking hold of my elbow and steering me toward the rebound chamber. We aren’t using the ones I’ve rebounded through before, but instead a new, larger chamber. I expect Alixandra and I to rebound on the same platform, but there are two platforms adjoining each other instead.

“I thought we would rebound together,” I say to Alixandra.

“We are, but two people need to perform the procedure for optimal safety.” Her voice takes on the same annoyed tone it always does when I ask a question—as though everything that comes out of my mouth is completely stupid.

“I see.”

“Minister Patton wants to be sure of your physical safety as well as your security.”

“I bet he does,” I say. My glib comment is rewarded with a scathing look. My sense of humor isn’t growing on Alixandra.

The stewardess prepares each of us, going through the same speech full of warnings and reminders I’ve been given every time I’ve traveled via rebound. I nod, barely paying attention to what she’s saying. I’m not surprised when she cuffs my arms to the chair.

“What, no scary metal helmet?” I ask.

The stewardess blinks.

“You will be alone during part of the process,” Alixandra says, settling comfortably into her chair. “We’ll be able to see each other, but technically we’ll be in separate spaces. I want to be certain you are secure.”

“Where am I going to go?” I point out. There’s enough danger inherent in the process without me jumping off the platform in the middle of it.

“You’ve managed to pull off some incredible escapes in the past. You can’t blame us for being cautious,” Alixandra says.

“How long is the rebound?” I ask the stewardess.

“It will only take an hour,” she answers as she stuffs a pillow behind my back. I want out of these cuffs and away from this awkward angle.

The pillow is helping, though. I remember the first stewardess who attended my rebound—on my retrieval night. She had been kind, too, trying to ease my panic about being tied down and taken to a new life. I didn’t ask her name.

“Thank you…?” I leave the invitation hanging between myself and the girl helping me.

“Diana,” she says.

“Thank you, Diana.”

“It was my pleasure, Miss Lewys,” she says, pausing to add the obligatory, “and best wishes on your marriage.”