Unraveled Page 13

  “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.

  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.”

  “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.

  But my last vision of her isn’t one of screaming or grabbing. For the split second before her rebound completes she looks past me and nods as her hands fly up once more to tear at the barrier.

  I whip around and see the dark outlines of a rebound chamber. The clock on the wall is dead. The room is chilly.

  But standing in the middle of it is something that warms my blood.

  Erik.

  SEVENTEEN

  I CAN’T MOVE UNTIL THE FINAL PIECES of the room settle into place. Erik is real. Erik is here.

  He takes a cautious step toward me.

  This time I manage to say his name. “Erik?”

  He races forward and unlatches my cuffs, pulling me up and into a tight hug. But before I can even enjoy it, he releases me.

  I don’t know where we are or how I’ve gotten here. The chamber is silent and abnormally cold. These facts collect in my mind but they don’t add up to anything.

  “Follow me.” It’s little more than a command, and for a moment I’m frozen to the spot. But when he walks out of the room, I go after him despite the shock and confusion warring within me.

  I step out into an office. No, not exactly an office. More like a large meeting room dimly lit by lamps and handlights. Before I can react, Valery throws her arms around me.

  “They did it,” she says in a breathless voice.

  I’m not entirely sure who they are or what they did or how it happened, but I nod as she clasps my hands in her own. She looks the same, but she’s free of cosmetics and her black hair is cropped to her chin.

  “Do you like it?” she asks, fluffing her bob.

  “Yes. It suits you.” The whole conversation is surreal. The last time I saw Valery she’d admitted that she betrayed us on Alcatraz, but now she is here. That doesn’t exactly explain where here is, though.

  “Get those off.” She points to my gloves.

  It takes a moment for the suggestion to process, but when it does, I rip them from my sweaty hands and throw them to the floor.

  “Thanks,” I say to her over a lump in my throat as it begins to settle in that I’m free.

  A dozen people gather around a table, poring over blueprints of some sort, and when a man stands up to leave, I see them.

  Dante and Jost.

  They’re both here.

  “Where are we?” I ask Erik, grabbing his arm. He removes my hand quickly but I don’t think I’m imagining a gentle squeeze as he does it.

  “We got her,” Erik calls out, and everyone stops to stare at me. There are a few cheers. Some eye me with curiosity. Others look unimpressed. But all that matters is the gr
in that splits across Dante’s face, because for a moment I feel like I’ve come home.

  He strides forward and grabs me by the shoulders. He’s still wearing the jeans and shirt he wore to Alcatraz, and he looks tired.

  “You look different,” he says.

  “I’ve been busy preparing to become Cormac’s little woman,” I say, but I can barely focus on what he’s saying to me. I’m too busy scanning the room, trying to process the incredible shift in my circumstances. Not even an hour ago I was on the way to my wedding, and now I’m here—wherever this is.

  “But you aren’t married?” Erik asks, and I think I hear a tinge of anxiety in his tone.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Thank Arras. I was worried we missed the blessed event,” Dante says.

  “Were you hoping to give me away?” I ask.

  “I was planning to object.”

  “You weren’t the only one,” Erik says.

  “You were just in time,” I tell them. “I was on my way to the wedding.”

  “We had less time to strategize until we got here,” Dante says. “Relative timelines, remember?”

  “Yes, but where is here?” I ask. I turn around and take in the whole of my surroundings. I can’t help but notice a line of framed portraits along a far wall. The room is average. It could be any meeting room in Arras, but that doesn’t explain how my friends managed to set up in Arras. “Are those prime ministers?”

  “You’re in the Eastern Ministry offices,” Dante explains.

  “The Eastern Sector was destroyed.”

  “Do you believe everything Cormac tells you?” Dante asks. He drags me to a window that overlooks a courtyard. When I spot the elephant fountains, I know he’s telling the truth.

  I was here a little less than a month ago, but now it’s been entirely transformed into an Agenda barricade. Only the shell of the room reminds me it was once Guild territory before Cormac destroyed it—or rather, pretended to. “Why would Cormac lie to me? He told me he destroyed the whole sector. He made me watch.”

  “To scare you.” Valery’s voice is soft as she speaks. “Fear is control.”