Crewel

sweeps her fingers along it and the screen glows, displaying a series of numbers and charts.
    ‘This is what insubordination causes,’ she murmurs, sounding amused with her little toy, and I realise with horror that she’s showing me the number of people killed during the test.
    ‘Insubordination,’ I say softly, ‘had nothing to do with it.’
    ‘When I tell you to remove a weak thread, you do it,’ she snarls, dropping her charade of calm amusement.
    ‘Or you’ll murder people?’ I don’t disguise the hate in my voice.
    ‘Examples,’ she starts slowly, evidently intent on keeping her composure, ‘are necessary to show the importance of our work. You can play the victim, Adelice, but you are as culpable as I am. When you cannot make the difficult decision for the good of others, you jeopardise everyone.’
    ‘It wasn’t a coincidence that Pryana’s sister was in that piece,’ I accuse her, but she ignores me.
    ‘It seems you won’t learn your lesson,’ she says between drags.
    ‘Maybe I’m not the only one.’
    Maela smiles, and it’s a real smile this time, not the dazzling show smile she puts on for the others or the wicked grin she seems to save for me. This smile shows all the flaws carefully covered by cosmetics – the lines, the too-noticeable gum line. It’s a hideous sight.
    Her face fades back into practised calm. ‘I’m willing to give you another chance. I’m not usually so forgiving.’
    I picture the other girls, killed for less. Had they wasted away in cells or been ripped out and destroyed?
    ‘What happens?’ I ask, thinking of the shimmering threads hanging off the hook.
    ‘What happens when what?’
    ‘When you remove strands. Where do they go?’
    She smiles again, but it is one of polished venom, not actual mirth. ‘Perhaps you can go to your training classes and find out, instead of wasting away in a cell.’
    She leaves me here to ponder this, but deep down I know that they aren’t going to answer the kinds of questions I want to ask. Enora had genuinely not known the answer when I asked her the same question during our first meeting. But why hide what really happens if ripping is such an integral part of our jobs?
    Unless the ripped could be saved.

 
     
     
    7
     
    I taste iron and my lip stings from where it split open against my teeth. So much for a low profile – not with Pryana in my training group. Maela officially released me a few days ago, shortly after our little chat, and even though I spent considerable time thinking of the right way to approach going back to training, I was still at square one. I’d planned to apologise, but the words never came. The other Eligibles seemed as cold as Pryana, clearly not impressed by my showdown with Maela. The looks they were giving me were pretty easy to read. In fact, they reminded me a lot of how the girls at testing had treated me. They thought I was awkward and incapable. And maybe they were right. Regardless, I found myself shuffling into the studio for our loom instructions without saying a word to Pryana. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. It was obvious that she laid the blame for her sister’s death at my feet. I was a much easier target than Maela – and a much less dangerous one.
    We were finally working on real looms again. After that first disastrous experience, we’d each been given three days of practice with an artificial weave before they allowed us to work on a real piece. The fake weave had felt lifeless under my fingers, but it was easy enough to work with. By the end of the first practice session I had proved my ability to alter easily enough. But, as if I needed another way to alienate myself, most of the other girls hadn’t. They were passable as Spinsters, but their work was sloppy or they took too long or they lacked the confidence to really dig into their tasks. By the end of the practice days, we all were cleared to try simple tasks like food weaving, but Pryana and I found ourselves singled out. We were both working on weather instead of food. I’d hoped this would give me a chance to talk with her.
    I knew she’d be upset but I hadn’t expected her to come right out and hit me. I’m weak after several days in the cell and very little edible food and water, so Pryana’s blow knocks me on my butt. I’d like to think it’s because I was caught off guard, but I’ve never had an occasion to test my fighting skills. I can’t blame her for being angry. I wish I