Crewel

spool looks untouched. Taking a deep breath, I peel off the fabric covers, except the one blocking my bleeding left index finger, and grip the wire firmly between my right index finger and thumb.
    I focus on breathing, filling my lungs completely with each inhale and then slowly releasing. Bleeding welts cover my hands, but I press on, ignoring the dizzy, light-headed feeling. And between my body expecting breakfast – stupid set mealtimes – and dripping blood everywhere, my mind drops into oblivion.
    The lack of noise in the room roars in my ears, or maybe it’s my heartbeat. There’s no clock, only the faint glow of morning light breaking in patches on my work. It reflects back off the white plastic-covered walls, heating them, so their synthetic stench fills the air in the studio, making my stomach hurt. Everything is bright, blinding in its artifice. Only my warm blood on the cold, steel lines contrasts with the harsh brilliance of the space. But despite the searing pain, I get through three-quarters of the spool before Maela returns.
    She smiles at the sight of my wounded hands. ‘You have two hours left, Adelice.’ Leaning over my work, she continues, ‘I was thinking about how rude it was for us not to give you more updates on your sister.’
    I lose my careful grip on the wire and slice a fresh cut into my palm.
    ‘It’s common for us to allow a letter or to provide some information during the initial training,’ she says, still hovering over me. ‘But we generally don’t do that for traitors.’
    ‘Yes, I’m aware of what you do for traitors,’ I say.
    ‘Then you already know we can be merciful,’ she replies innocently. I want to wrap the wire around her thin, pale neck.
    ‘Unfortunately, your parents committed treason, and of course there was the issue of the contraband found in your house,’ she tells me, ‘so your parents have been removed.’
    ‘Cormac told me,’ I respond. But even though I already knew, I feel the heat of tears when I blink. I have no energy to fight them.
    ‘I see. You also know that your sister, as a minor, was rewoven. You know she’s in Cypress, where many of our finest Eligibles are found each year. As she probably shares your talent, she’s likely to prove useful to us in the future. We’re keeping a very close eye on her.’
    ‘Amie doesn’t have any skill,’ I murmur, willing it to be true. ‘You’re wasting your time.’
    ‘Not at all,’ Maela assures me as she lights a cigarette. ‘We need to keep track of her for you. The Guild’s newest prize needs to be kept happy.’
    ‘Doesn’t matter to me. I barely knew her,’ I lie. ‘We’re not very close in age, and she was always more concerned with being popular and keeping up on the current phases.’ As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I want to swallow it back.
    But I can tell from the way Maela’s eyebrow shoots up that this info delights her. ‘You two are different then. Maybe she’ll have what she needs to succeed as a Spinster when her time comes, if that’s what she wants.’
    Wants? I hesitate. ‘And her new family?’ I think of the paranoid look in her adoptive mother’s eyes.
    ‘You saw her new mother. They’re an excellent, loyal family,’ she says. ‘There are an unfortunate number of couples who are childless, so orphans are often rewoven into other sections to those deserving people.’
    The wire’s buried half an inch in my thumb before I realise how hard I’m clenching it. I don’t know why I’m stopping myself. No one would miss Maela.
    ‘Thanks for the update. I have a lot left to do.’ I force myself to return to the work, and I hear the soft click of the door closing behind her.
    When Maela saunters into the room at noon, she practically chokes on her cigarette to find me done. ‘I guess I didn’t give you enough thread,’ she says in a low voice. ‘You look like you got bored.’
    ‘Maybe I’m as talented as you don’t want me to be,’ I counter, keeping my eyes level with hers and ignoring the woozy shakiness spreading through my body. If she thought her diversion would sidetrack me, she was mistaken. ‘Will someone be coming to check my work?’
    Maela’s eyes narrow, but she speaks in a normal voice. ‘Of course. Later.’
    ‘Let me know what they think,’ I say as arrogantly as I can, while bleeding profusely. My terse new escort takes me back to my quarters, and I try not to drip blood on the high tower’s expensive rugs.
    There’s