Crewel

dance away from those prying eyes?’
    There’s no music, but he leads me elegantly into a waltz. His blond hair glows in the dim starshine, and he looks like he belongs here in the cool night.
    ‘You haven’t asked me why I’m doing this yet,’ he whispers in my ear.
    I have to swallow against the frantic pulse in my throat to speak. ‘Will you tell me the truth?’
    ‘Possibly,’ he says. ‘Although I’m not sure you are ever supposed to tell a lady the truth.’
    ‘You won’t know until you try,’ I argue.
    ‘Okay. I like smart girls,’ he tells me. ‘And a smart girl who’s also gorgeous – how can I resist?’
    I rest my head on his shoulder so he won’t see how much I like this information, even if he’s probably lying.
    ‘So is that why you’re with Maela?’ I ask, my face still turned from his.
    He snorts at this. ‘With Maela? That woman does not know when to let go.’
    ‘You haven’t . . .’ I’m not sure I want a straight answer even if he’ll give it.
    ‘She never understood how it works,’ he says. ‘She’s not as bright as you are.’
    I think about Enora’s warning and try to pull away from him. ‘Erik, I’m already on Maela’s bad side. There’s no need to make it worse.’
    ‘You have to remember she controls me too.’ For a moment he sounds sincere but then the arrogance returns. ‘We may never get another chance.’ But underneath his sense of entitlement, there’s a subtle fear hidden in his eyes, and it looks familiar. It reminds me of the way my father looked as he dragged me to the tunnel. I cling to Erik a little tighter, remembering how easily people can slip away.
    ‘It doesn’t matter. We have a little fun now and Maela finds out and does something awful to one of us, or both of us, and for what?’ I force myself to pull out of Erik’s grasp and look him in the eyes. ‘There’s no future for us.’
    ‘Look, you can play the innocent with everyone else, but not me.’ His voice is low but earnest. ‘I know Maela is watching you. She thinks you’re dangerous, which means you are.’
    ‘Maela thinks she’s the centre of the world. I wouldn’t put too much stock in her opinions.’
    ‘She’s scared of you,’ he says.
    ‘Why? I’m not her problem any more.’
    ‘I don’t know.’ Erik sighs. Clearly he’d hoped I’d open up more. ‘It has to be something that happened at your testing. She’s been different ever since you arrived.’
    ‘Oh, she wasn’t a psycho before?’
    Erik shakes his head and the moonlight bounces off his golden hair. ‘No, that’s nothing new. I thought I’d have to kill you when you first got here.’
    I groan. This is so unfair. ‘She really hates me.’
    ‘No,’ he says, ‘the Guild executes any girl who runs. Standard no-tolerance policy. When she had me sedate you, I assumed—’
    ‘And you would have done it,’ I accuse him.
    ‘It’s not that simple.’
    ‘I wasn’t really running,’ I admit. ‘My parents were trying to hide me.’
    ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Erik says, unshaken by the confession. ‘They would kill you and your family then.’
    ‘Why?’ The word forms on my lips but no sound comes out.
    ‘A girl who tries to escape or run with her family after testing can never be loyal enough to trust. Runners rarely ever make it to the Coventry after they’re caught, but Maela lives for gossip, so I hear about it when one does. It seems to happen frequently in the Western Sector. People whose parents hide them – whose parents try to cheat the testing process – have poisoned minds.’
    ‘And the girls who come willingly are loyal?’ I demand.
    ‘Of course. The Guild controls their families, Adelice,’ he says. ‘Not many question it, and those who do—’
    ‘What happens to them?’
    Erik shakes his head.
    ‘Is that why they watch us? Me?’ I ask flatly. ‘Because my parents are dead and my kid sister wouldn’t recognise me? Because they have nothing to hold over me?’
    ‘Maybe,’ Erik admits, and I hit him hard in the chest. I hate him for telling me the truth. I hit him again and again, and he lets me. Finally my hands hurt from hitting the mass of his solid chest, and I crumble against him. For a long time we say nothing and I pace my breathing to his; our chests rise and fall rhythmically, a promise of normality.
    ‘Adelice,’ he whispers, still holding me perfectly still. ‘I wouldn’t count on them both being dead.’
    My breath catches and blocks all my