Crewel

feet.
    ‘He attended you in the cells,’ she tells me, studying my face. ‘Don’t you remember him? He’s our head valet. I thought he’d taken an interest in you.’
    ‘The rude one?’ I ask.
    ‘That’s him.’
    ‘Why?’ It feels like a trap to send me travelling with two young men, or maybe Cormac’s just really stupid.
    ‘He attends Cormac – excuse me, Ambassador Patton – when he calls on the Western Coventry,’ she says, checking her digifile screen. ‘The ambassador has a fondness for him, or rather for his cocktail-mixing skills, and since his usual valet is unavailable, he took ours. It seems he doesn’t care about our ability to function while you two are travelling.’
    ‘I guess I didn’t think he was anybody important.’ I try to keep my tone dismissive and casual, but I’m aware of how fast my heart is beating. Not only has Maela noticed Jost’s attention to me, now he’s being dragged into this mess.
    ‘He’s not,’ Maela assures me as she disappears back into my bedroom.
    ‘That’s what I thought,’ I murmur to no one in particular.
    Enora comes to help me pack, and my primary aesthetician, Valery, trails behind her. I’m grateful for the company. I know I’ll never sleep, like the night before Winter Solstice, when all you can think about is presents. But this time it’s fear, not excitement, that’s keeping me awake.
    Valery whispers something into Enora’s ear and she squeezes her forearm in response. ‘Ready for tomorrow?’ she asks me, leaning against Enora.
    I bite my lip and screw my face into one of panic. Valery laughs, but Enora shakes her head in amused disapproval.
    ‘I’ve been prepping her all day,’ Enora says to Valery, but her eyes are on me. ‘She’d better be ready.’
    ‘If you prepped her, I’m not worried,’ Valery says, giving my mentor’s arm a friendly pat. ‘But I’d better be ready to do my part.’ My aesthetician grins at me and slips into the bathroom. She’ll be sure to have all her tools ready for this trip: the thought sends me spiralling back into dread.
    Most of my belongings are being sent along with the crews following me through the rebound stations, but Enora hands me a small red box tied with a satiny white bow. It reminds me of the presents my parents brought into my room on my birthday each year. I never got a chance to enjoy the perfume they bought me on my last one, a gift to celebrate turning sixteen and the promise of my long-awaited dismissal. I ooh and aah as I open Enora’s gift, but I have to fight the hollow ache it prompts in my chest.
    It’s a personal digifile.
    ‘For your rebounds,’ she tells me as she shows me how it powers on. ‘I know they can make you sick, so I thought this might distract you. It has all the information you need.’
    I gently touch the screen and it offers me a variety of entertainment options: cosmetic and clothing catalogues, Stream vlips, and the latest Guild Bulletin .
    ‘Thank you,’ I say, genuinely pleased with the gift. Although I’ve seen some people like Maela using them, in Romen only highly ranked businessmen could afford digifiles, and I’ve never seen a woman use one outside the Coventry. It makes me feel important to have one of my own.
    ‘It will also allow you to communicate directly with Ambassador Patton,’ Enora says, sliding her finger to select complant compatibility. ‘He wanted us to fit you with a complant, but Maela threw a fit.’
    For the first time I’m grateful for Maela’s jealousy. ‘He wanted me to have a complant?’
    ‘He’s been pushing for Spinsters to be fitted for years,’ she tells me. ‘He claims it will allow for quicker response to imminent threats to Arras.’
    ‘Is he right?’
    ‘No, we’re prepared with Spinsters on emergency duty at all hours. He’s more interested in keeping tabs on us.’
    I try to hide my surprise at her openness. Despite her kindness, Enora rarely speaks so directly with me.
    ‘Why did Maela say no?’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ she says, and laughs. ‘She’s not reconsidering your relationship. She couldn’t get approval from Loricel, so I suggested this.’
    ‘Loricel?’ I ask, scanning through the files.
    ‘She’s the only person around here who says no to Cormac.’
    I set the digifile down and pay closer attention. ‘Who is she?’
    ‘She’s the Creweler.’
    ‘Like you?’ I ask, recalling Enora’s various duties.
    ‘No, I’m nothing like her,’ she admits. ‘I merely