Unraveled (13 page)

Pryana reads it over my shoulder, but instead of looking relieved, her eyebrows knit
together.

“What is it?” I ask, even though I dread the answer.

“You’re right about Amie, but what does this mean?” Her index finger trails along
the screen and I lean in to see:

It is recommended the Cypress Project experiments be expanded to candidates regardless
of age or gender.

Our eyes meet and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. Whatever this means,
it’s nothing good.

“Do you know what the Cypress Project is?” I ask her.

“No, but I don’t like the sound of it.”

Smart girl, I think, considering whether I should tell her and whether the Guild might
have a violent response to a Spinster knowing about the Cypress Project. If the Agenda
starts sharing info about it, Cormac will know it started with me. “Spinsters aren’t
natural. The Guild created us through genetic experiments.”

“But if they did that…” Her voice fades away as she bites her lip. “Why girls?”

“Control,” I say in a flat voice. “Any of the boys who showed the ability were erased
from existence.”

“Tailors?” Pryana guesses.

I nod, impressed with how much she’s learned from the Agenda in Arras. Then again,
even my parents had known this. They had merely chosen not to share the information
with me. I ignore the tremble that races up my back at the thought of my parents and
the secrets they kept from me. It hardly even bothers me anymore.

“But I don’t know what they mean by expanding the experiments,” I say as I push away
from the desk and stare at the clinic’s white walls. They glare back at me like a
blank canvas waiting for me to make my move. The longer I look at them, the more questions
tumble through my brain until one latches on and then breaks past my lips. “Do you
think it’s strange that they keep this information here?”

Pryana shrugs as she scrolls through the files on the companel. “They’ve probably
done some of the experiments here.”

I recall the metal helmet and the blinding light, followed by a series of questions
meant to map how my mind worked. I’d been brought here for that. If I hadn’t escaped
when I did, I would have wound up on one of those slabs while Tailors altered my memory
to make me more docile. This is where they would have taken Loricel on the night of
my escape.

“Have you been back here?” I ask her.

“Yes.” She turns away from the companel and stares me down. “The night you escaped.
When they tried to alter me. Cormac wanted to splice me with Loricel’s genetics so
I could take over as Creweler. Any more tests for me?”

I don’t even blink. Pryana must know how suspicious her change of heart seems. “One.”

“What’s stopping you? I’m dying to know how I can prove myself to you.” There’s hurt
in her words.

“Why didn’t he wipe you? You knew too much to be trusted. Why didn’t Cormac alter
your memories?”

Pryana snorts, shaking her head. “He did. At least he thinks he did. There’s one thing
you should know about the Coventry, Adelice. This place is teeming with Agenda.”

“And the Agenda saved you?”

“A Tailor did,” she says. “You have no reason to believe me, but who else can you
trust?”

Albert’s words echo in my mind.
Know their hearts.
I’m not sure I could ever know Pryana’s heart.

But Amie does. “If Amie trusts you, then I do, too.”

Pryana doesn’t seem terribly moved by my admission. Instead she focuses on the companel.
“We don’t have much time. You need to tell me what you’re actually looking for.”

“I told you—”

“Don’t try to sell me that line about finding out what happened to Amie. We both know
what happened to her. You need something else from here, and I’m dying to find out
what it is.” Her dark eyes sparkle as her mouth curves into an arrogant grin.

The problem with Pryana is that we’re alike in too many ways. It’s hard to fool someone
who thinks the same way you do. That doesn’t mean I want her to know I’m here to find
information about putting the pieces of my mother back together. She would say it’s
endangering the Agenda.

“A girl’s gotta have her secrets,” I say with a shrug.

“She also has to have her allies.”

Her choice of words stops me. Enora told me the same thing, and so did Albert—two
people much wiser than myself.

“My mother’s soul strand is here somewhere,” I confess. “If I can find it.”

A shadow crosses over her eyes. “I know where the strands are. When I found out about
Remnants, I went looking for information on Ursula.”

She’s never spoken this name to me before, but I instantly know who she is from the
twist of pain in her voice.

“Your sister,” I say. “Did you find anything?”

“There was nothing left to find. Maela shredded her academy. Nothing was salvageable.”

I consider wrapping my arm around her, but guilt weighs me down, preventing me from
lifting a finger.

Pryana draws a long, steadying breath. “Finding your mother’s soul strand is a noble
goal. I can help with that. But what’s in Cormac’s suite?”

“That’s more complicated. Let me show you.” I slide my fingers over the companel’s
screen, but before I can pull up any files on altering someone’s appearance, the light
overhead pulses red and a calm female voice calls, “Unauthorized access” repeatedly.

“How long was that mask supposed to work?” I ask Pryana as we scramble to our feet.

“Thirty minutes,” she says before tacking on, “theoretically.”

“You might have mentioned the ‘theoretically’ before.”

The screech of boots echoes on the linoleum in the hallway. Our only chance is that
they don’t know which room has been breached. Hopefully the mask can at least get
this detail right.

“This way!” Pryana calls, shoving me into the small observation room attached to the
office. My foot catches on the metal examination table and I plunge forward, knocking
over a nearby cart. Pryana catches me and forces me back on my feet, dragging me along
behind her before I can even recover from my stumble. At the door we pause, peeking
out to check the hallway, which is, miraculously, empty. I hesitate for a moment,
but Pryana rushes toward the door that leads back into the main area of the compound
and I’m left with no choice but to join her.

As we clear each set of swinging doors, the muffled shouts following us grow closer
until Pryana grabs my arms and pulls me through the doors to the dining room. “In
here.”

As soon as we enter she pushes me toward an empty seat and takes the one next to me.
The dining hall has changed. The large mahogany table that occupied the space when
I first came to the Coventry is no longer there. Instead there are rows of individual
tables. At each one a Spinster eats alone. As in the lower studios, every girl is
confined to her own space, which keeps them from speaking to one another.

A few heads turn toward us and I smile brightly. The other girls turn back to their
meals without returning the gesture. Plain chicken and a chunk of bread are placed
before me. In the past extravagant feasts were presented at mealtime: curries and
pastries and soups. This is utilitarian, nourishment and nothing more.

Pryana catches my eye and motions to the food. Picking up my fork, I try to eat even
as my pulse races. As I chew on the dry meat, I study the other Spinsters. Their dresses
are as plain as the food. A few have pinned up their hair, but hardly any wear cosmetics.
Pryana and I look like peacocks in comparison, which only unnerves me more.

It’s obvious we don’t belong here right now.

Turning my attention to my plate, I force myself to eat. To blend in.

The door opens behind us and a group enters noisily, causing every girl in the room
to sit up and look around. I catch my breath and force myself to do the same.

A handful of guards linger in the doorway and my stomach drops as Maela pushes past
them. She scans the room, her eyes landing on me.

“Ladies,” she calls out. “There has been a security breach. Please line up against
the wall.”

No one breathes a word. There’s not even a sideways glance as each girl does exactly
as she’s told, myself included. Pryana squeezes in next to me, but I don’t dare look
at her as Maela paces down the line, studying us. She doesn’t stop in front of me,
even though she must know who breached security. Maela is playing with us.

“One of you entered a secure area without permission,” she says. “Who was it?”

I want to step forward, but I hold myself back. Cormac isn’t here to save me from
Maela’s wrath.

Maela wags a finger at the group. “Come now. If you don’t confess, I’ll be forced
to deem everyone here guilty. I’d hate to send all of you to the clinics.”

Enough people have been wiped thanks to me. I shift my feet but Pryana holds me back.

“It was me.”

I lurch forward in surprise to look at the girl who spoke. There’s not a spot of color
on her dark skin and her full cheeks make her look even younger than Amie. A few girls
around her cast confused looks, but no one says anything.

“Gillian?” Maela raises an eyebrow as she plants her hands on her hips. “You broke
into the clinics?”

Gillian nods, her gaze fixed on Maela. “I thought I could escape.”

I take a small step forward, knowing I can’t let this girl lie to save me. I don’t
know why she’s doing it. But I do know the punishment for girls who try to escape.
But as I move out of the line, Pryana’s nails dig into my arm and drag me back.

“Very well.” Maela nods to the guards. They don’t shackle the girl. Instead she falls
into step behind them, as though she knows exactly what’s expected of her. A shiver
races down my neck.

Maela waves off the rest of the group. “You may finish your meals.”

As she turns to leave, her eyes meet mine. The tilt of her head would be imperceptible
to anyone else. No one here knows Maela like I do. The message is clear: it’s my move.

When the dinner shift ends, Pryana and I race back to my quarters and we’re barely
through the door before I drag her into the bathroom.

“Nice trick,” she says as I turn on the faucets to drown out our conversation.

“I learned how to survive around here. It seems you have, too.”

She shrugs. “We do what we have to do.”

“Including letting an innocent girl confess to treason?” I fight to keep my voice
lower than the running water, even as blood pounds in my ears.

“I didn’t see you step forward.”

“I tried to! I want answers!” I demand, losing control over the volume of my voice.

Pryana’s jaw clenches and her coffee-colored eyes flash to mine. She looks away and
shakes her head. “Gillian sacrificed herself for the cause.”

“What cause?” I manage. “What cause does the Agenda have that requires suicide?”

Pryana’s eyes roll back. “Don’t play dumb, Adelice. You know what we’re fighting for.
Gillian did what she had to do to protect the Whorl.”

“Get out,” I say in a low voice. “Get out and tell whoever else is playing rebel here
this: I don’t need protecting.”

Pryana’s eyes narrow, although she doesn’t challenge me. When she leaves, I move to
the sink. Placing my hands under the running water, I splash it on my face and watch
it stream across my skin. I rinse my face and my neck and my hands until I’m as clear
skinned and pure as the girl who stepped forward for me today. But no matter how hard
I scrub, I’ll never wash her blood from my hands.

THIRTEEN

A
KNOCK SOUNDS AT THE DOOR.
No one except Pryana and Amie knocks when they come to visit, and I’m fairly certain
they’re both upset with me. People only come to deliver food or clean or check my
companel and they never wait for me to let them in. But when I open the door, I know
the person is here to see me.

“May I come in?” Maela asks.

I step aside and allow her into my living room. She flits into the space, picking
up a vase from the mantel over the fireplace. I half expect her to try to shove it
into her pocket. It’s written on her face: these should have been hers. Her quarters.
Her job.

Her Cormac.

But that doesn’t explain why she’s here now.

“Can I get you something?” I ask her. “A drink? A map back to your room?”

“It’s lovely to see you, too,” she says. Maela doesn’t take the hint. Instead she
drops into a recliner, crossing her legs like she’s getting comfortable.

I give up hope and sit down across from her. “I thought you might visit sooner.”

“Cormac has you under lock and key. I wasn’t allowed,” she explains.

“You’ve never let that stand in the way before.”

Maela sees rules as optional. She showed her flexibility with them more than once
during my training—ripping an entire academy, torturing me with razor-sharp thread.
It’s not like her to do as she’s told.

“But when I saw you in the dining room earlier, I assumed it was permissible for me
to call on you.”

“An interesting meal.” I meet her eyes directly. “I don’t recall interrogation being
part of the courses before.”

“Times are different at the Coventry, Adelice.”

“They’re different in all of Arras,” I correct her.

“You’ve proven to be quite the catalyst.” She peers at me, waiting for my reaction.
I keep my face blank, despite her accusation. She’s not the first to mistakenly blame
me for the unrest in Arras.

“I think there’s a lot more going on here than anything I’ve caused,” I say.

“And yet, here you are. In the penthouse of the high tower. Ring on your finger,”
she says.

I twist my engagement ring around, hiding the diamond in my clenched fist. Most days
I forget I’m wearing it. Since Cormac comes only once a week, I rarely have to face
my impending marriage.

“Why are you here?” I ask. “Or do you just miss torturing me?”

“I have missed your flair for the dramatic.”