“Thanks,” I say. Her eyes meet mine and I see understanding in them. She knows, as everyone in Arras must know, that this isn’t a marriage of love. Cormac is taking a bride. He’s taking me.

And before I can wrap my head around it—around the fact that I’m on my way to be married to Cormac Patton—Diana has left the room and the countdown on the clock begins.

“Will I be able to talk to you during the rebound?” I ask Alixandra. Rebounds still make me a little nervous.

“Why would we want to talk?”

“Never mind,” I say.

“Do you need to tell me something, Adelice?”

“I get a little bit of motion sickness,” I admit, “and it might help if I had someone to distract me.”

She looks pained at this suggestion.

“Like I said, forget it.” I hadn’t needed Alixandra’s company before today. I didn’t need it now.

“Adelice, it’s my job to protect you, not only for Cormac,” she says, struggling for the right words. For a moment our eyes meet and her carefully controlled composure slips to reveal vulnerability.

“Who are you doing it for, then?” I ask.

The mask slides back into place as she picks up a Bulletin from the table on the platform. “The people of Arras, of course. You’ve become something of a symbol to them.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, but Alixandra only shrugs. I can’t expect answers from her.

And how am I supposed to feel about being a symbol, anyway? First, it’s for the wrong reasons. What would my parents think if I came to represent the ideal of womanhood in Arras? Or Erik? Or Jost? Or Dante? How would they feel if I stepped into the role of perfect wife and obedient citizen? It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

It won’t.

I focus on that thought as the countdown clock reaches zero and the first changes shimmer through the room. I wonder what Spinster they’ve deemed talented enough to rush the rebound process and I hope her fingers are as skillful as they claim. It’s not my idea of a good time to be torn in two by someone integrating my thread into another section of Arras.

The smooth white walls of the room flicker and fade in and out of my vision, and my belly flips as a rush of vertigo surges through my body. I turn to watch Alixandra, who is absorbed in her Bulletin. I can see her, but it’s as though I’m watching through a sheer, stretched fabric. We are in the same place and yet we aren’t.

“Alixandra,” I test, but she doesn’t respond.

I’m on my way to marry Cormac Patton.

Only a month has passed since he asked me to marry him. I thought it would be far in the future, but now it’s happening.

There will be a state dinner and a series of Stream interviews. Fear is starting to settle into my blood. This seemed like a good idea when I agreed to it. Having unlimited access to Cormac would give me the chance to alter him and gain access to the Coventry. But now I know having unlimited access to Cormac means he’ll have unlimited access to me. I also know he’ll find a way to diminish my power, possibly for good. My skills are nothing against him now that he’s found a way to protect himself from alteration, and soon, I’m certain, he’ll alter me into the perfect wife.

It’s only beginning to sink in that I will be his wife. On the happier nights since I was taken from my home in Romen, I’d allowed myself to imagine marrying. I’d pictured what it would be like to lie in bed with my husband. When I returned to Arras, I tried to let go of that, but Erik always invaded my thoughts in the quiet moments before sleep. I tried to deny myself the fantasy that somehow Erik would be the one in my marital bed, because I knew this day would come.

I knew it would only hurt more when I faced down my wedding to Cormac.

I was right.

A tear tickles down my cheek and I try to wipe it away, forgetting the cuffs over my wrists. It lingers, turning to salt on my cheek—an invisible line that no one can see, but I can feel it clinging tight to my skin. Love has left its marks on me in a hundred tiny scars that aren’t visible, only felt. Erik’s face floats into my memory. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to see him, but no matter how much I try it becomes harder. My mind is stealing him from me, hiding him away to protect me from the ache that burns in my chest and seizes my limbs.

When I open my eyes, I see him more clearly. It’s as though he’s standing in front of me. I realize that if I want to keep Erik, I can’t lock him away. I can’t ignore the memory of him or I will lose even that. Because when I embrace the pain of our separation—when I free his memory—he becomes real again.

Erik smiles at me and I smile back, tears streaming down my face. It becomes too painful and I turn away.

Alixandra is off the platform.

I stare at her. She’s not supposed to leave the platform. That’s rebound rule number one.

At first I think she’s waving at me and I shake my head to let her know I have no idea what she’s saying. I can barely move my hands, but I point a finger at her chair in case she’s suffering some type of temporary insanity that can be cured by a simple reminder that she should be sitting down.

That’s when I realize she’s trying to tear the sheer barrier separating her rebound platform from mine. I look more carefully at her room and notice that it’s fading farther and farther into the gray walls of the Cypress Station. Soon Alixandra begins to fade with it.

It isn’t possible. We’re rebounding together. She shouldn’t be fading from my sight, because we’re going to the same room, the same station. Alixandra told me I wouldn’t leave her side during this process, and as that realization settles into place, she flickers completely out of view.