Crewel

children, our carefully segregated neighbourhoods, Enora trying to live a lie. Was quiet desperation the price of surface happiness? ‘Maybe they aren’t ready to get married,’ I say. ‘I wouldn’t have been.’
    Cormac presses his lips together and watches me for a moment before responding. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Adelice, because the Guild has decided the best way to address this concern is to provide an example to these young women.’
    ‘What kind of example?’ I ask. I keep my voice steady.
    ‘The Guild has enjoyed success with most Eligibles through the elite treatment and privilege afforded Spinsters,’ he continues. ‘They’re excited to be taken to the Coventry.’
    My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out all the ambient noise. Only Cormac’s practised, smooth voice funnels through, like a mandatory Stream broadcast. ‘So it makes sense to give young women an example of perfect domestic tranquillity. We’ll market it the same way we do coming to the Coventry – that being married is a life of privilege. And we’ll use someone from the Coventry as an example.’
    ‘But Spinsters can’t . . .’ I’m too embarrassed to say it out loud.
    ‘Consummate the relationship?’ he asks, a smirk playing at his lips.
    I give a small nod, but keep my eyes on my feet.
    ‘You’re not stupid,’ he says with a trace of annoyance. ‘You can’t possibly believe the whole purity-standards bit.’
    ‘Then why tell us that?’ More blood rushes to my face and settles on my cheeks. Generally, I don’t consider myself dumb, but I had, in fact, always believed the ‘whole purity-standards bit’.
    ‘Family, Adelice. We can’t have young women running around town. We need them at home, having babies, and serving Arras. And I’m sure you know women here—’
    ‘But it takes away our skills.’
    ‘You’ve seen some action since you’ve been here,’ he accuses, ‘and you’re still weaving.’
    The flush of my cheeks deepens. So much for being discreet. ‘I never crossed any lines.’
    ‘Maybe so,’ he says, but he shrugs as though he’s unconvinced.
    ‘So you’re going to allow Spinsters to marry?’ I ask, feeling a bit dizzy.
    ‘No,’ he assures me. ‘We need Spinsters to remain dedicated to their work, and our philosophy that a wife’s first duty is to her husband would be undermined by such a policy change.’
    I exhale in relief. The thought of being forced into a marriage, of making Jost live through that . . . I can’t imagine a worse torture.
    ‘But a Creweler can be afforded special privileges,’ he says, and my heart jumps back into my throat.
    ‘You . . . want . . .  me . . . to . . . marry?’
    ‘Consider it an order,’ he says with a smile.
    ‘Or you’ll remap me,’ I whisper. ‘Do I get to choose?’ I struggle to hang on to the faint flicker of hope this thought offers me. No one could object to Jost. He might not like the constant grooming. But as much as I try to believe it’s possible, even if it were, I’d be putting him directly under the Guild’s thumb. No matter how much it may hurt him, it would be better if I were married to someone else.
    ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?’ he asks with a cocked eyebrow. ‘Your choices aren’t as well conceived as the Guild would like.’
    ‘So you’ll choose for me?’ I ask slowly. No doubt it will be a political match.
    ‘We already have.’ He flashes a blinding smile. ‘Me.’
    The blood rushing in my head drains out, and I grip the arms of my chair to stay upright.
    Marry Cormac?
    ‘I’m only sixteen,’ I whisper.
    ‘We’ll wait for you to turn seventeen as custom dictates in the larger metros,’ he says in a casual voice.
    I struggle to make sense of what he’s telling me. I stand to look out of the window. ‘But how old are you?’
    Cormac scowls. ‘Renewal tech makes that a non-issue,’ he says through clenched teeth.
    ‘Not for me.’
    ‘What? You think you can go out and marry some young pretty boy?’ he asks, his voice rising steadily. ‘Let me make this clear: it has been decided. The Guild wants assurance that you’re being tightly monitored.’
    ‘And you’re just the man to do that,’ I say, narrowing my eyes.
    ‘You’ll enjoy the same privileges and get to have children.’
    I choke back the stomach acid this statement sends shooting up my throat. ‘You can have kids?’
    ‘Of course,’ he says, straightening his tux jacket. ‘My genetic