Crewel

delightful. I do hope I don’t have to kill you.’
    ‘Finally, something we can agree on.’
    He reaches out and places his warm hand on my knee. ‘You could be the most powerful girl here if you start playing your cards right.’
    I shift my leg away and cross it over the other.
    ‘I’m here to make sure Maela doesn’t kill you,’ he says, straightening back up in his chair, ‘and you aren’t making that job easy.’
    ‘And if she kills me?’
    ‘We’ll rip her.’ There’s not a hint of sadness in his voice.
    ‘Does she know that?’
    ‘I’ve spoken with her,’ he assures me. ‘Of course, it makes her hate you more.’
    ‘Fabulous.’
    ‘You’d be wise to stop trying to piss everyone off and start worrying about yourself.’ The amusement is gone from his voice. ‘I can keep her from killing you, but until you move out of her control, you’re still at her mercy.’
    ‘And how do I do that?’
    ‘First, you start doing your job. Then you start making allies.’
    ‘Enora already told me to make friends.’
    ‘You’re going to need more than friends,’ he says. ‘Your only chance is to move past Maela’s grasp, and to do that you’ll need someone with real power here.’
    ‘Any suggestions?’
    ‘I have someone in mind.’
    I feel his eyes travel back to my legs, and I straighten in my chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jost stiffen in the shadows.
    ‘Adelice, you’ll be accompanying me on a public-relations tour of Arras this weekend. Your aesthetician and stylist are fully prepped on expectations, and I assume your mentor—’
    ‘Enora,’ I remind him.
    ‘Yes, her,’ he says. ‘She’ll inform you of protocol measures.’
    I swallow hard and nod.
    ‘See? It’s easy.’
    ‘May I ask you something?’
    ‘More polite every day.’ He raises one eyebrow, which I assume is a yes.
    ‘Did you find my mother?’ With the death threat hanging fresh in the air, now seems like a good time to ask.
    ‘Hold on.’ Cocking his head to the side to use his complant, he voice-dials a woman named Penny.
    ‘Can you pull the binaries on Lewys Subject Two?’
    My eyes drift to Jost again, who’s stepped forward into a slant of light. He gives me a tight-lipped smile. I think he’s trying to be supportive.
    ‘No, I don’t have the personal identifying sequence. It was the mother.’
    Subject. It. It pains me to hear my mother described this way.
    ‘Thanks, doll.’ Cormac turns his gaze back to me. ‘She was found during the cleaning of Romen and removed.’
    ‘You ripped her?’ The words are thick on my tongue, and I barely push them out.
    ‘Standard procedure and much more humane than how I usually deal with traitors.’
    I can still feel the sticky warm blood on my dining-room floor. I know exactly how he – and the Guild – usually deals with them.
    ‘You,’ he calls to Jost. ‘Have Maela’s assistant pick her up.’
    Jost grunts from the corner and taps the order into the small companel.
    ‘Adelice, one more thing.’
    I stare at him, blinking hard against the tears burning up my throat.
    ‘These are Stream events, which I’m sure you know.’
    I nod once. Guild events are required viewing in every home. They usually consist of a lot of back-patting and flashes to the beautiful, important visiting politicians. Since the Streams come in automatically, my parents usually let them play while we continued our nightly chores and activities. When we were very young, Amie and I would squeal over the lush satin dresses and sparkling jewels worn by the visiting Spinsters. Now that would be me.
    ‘Remember the deal we made when we first met?’
    I tilt my head at Cormac curiously and sift through my recollection of that night. I hate the fuzzy final memories I have of my retrieval and the last time I saw my parents, and if I could remember more from that night, I wouldn’t want it to be memories of Cormac.
    ‘Stupid Valpron.’ He tilts his head again and barks: ‘Penny, the head medic for the Lewys retrieval. Put in a removal request.’
    I gasp, and in the corner Jost whips toward us but doesn’t come forward.
    ‘So incompetent,’ Cormac tells me, but there’s no anger in his voice. He’s already moved on. His poor secretary probably hates her job.
    ‘I told you I had someone you loved very much and you put on a dazzling show,’ he continues.
    ‘Too bad you ripped her,’ I say with only the slightest break in my voice.
    ‘No, not your mother,’ he says.