Crewel (24 page)

‘Go.’

Her eyes won’t meet mine.

‘Loricel, I—’

‘Leave me alone, Adelice. I need to think.’

I start to ask what she means, but she answers the question before I speak. ‘I have to figure out how to cover this up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, lifting my eyes from the floor to meet hers.

She keeps her gaze on the cat and continues to pet it. After a moment, she asks, ‘Did you find what you were looking for?’

The tiny plastic card feels like a piece of lead in my pocket, but I shake my head.

‘You endanger your sister by drawing attention to her,’ she warns, looking at me for the first time.

‘I need to know where she is,’ I say.

‘Cormac showed you your sister, alive and well,’ Loricel says. ‘It’s best to leave it at that, unless . . .’

‘I’m not going after her.’ Not yet.

‘If he perceives her as a threat, Cormac will remove her.’ Loricel pushes the cat off her lap and stands.

It takes me a moment to realise she’s reading the coordinates I’ve left on the companel. ‘Ingenious plan,’ she says, ‘but I wonder how you found the coordinates to pull the repository’s weave up on my loom.’

I bite my lip and clutch my arm around my waist, hoping she can’t make out the digifile’s silhouette in my pocket.

‘I’m not going to tell on you, Adelice,’ she says, turning to stare at the false wall. ‘I told you this was your choice, and I meant it. But you’re playing a dangerous game.’

My mouth is dry. ‘I’m not playing a game,’ I say.

‘All the same, be more careful.’

She says nothing else, so I exit the room, arms still wrapped around my waist, guarding my secrets: the truth about Jost’s daughter, and a small patch of the weave from the studio’s screen.

I manage to sneak past the guard, who’s busy smoking a few metres from the door to the upper studios, but I don’t return to my quarters. As soon as I’m out of his sight, I shift into a confident stride, lowering my arms to my sides and straightening my back. There’s surveillance on me, and I don’t want to raise any suspicion. With trembling fingers, I remove the piece of the screen from Loricel’s wall from my pocket and hide it in my palm. It’s only a few inches wide and featherlight, but it reflects a bit of the default scenery of the studio walls.

I say only one word: ‘Jost.’

An image flickers in my hand and I take quick glances at it. Long steel tables run the length of the room and girls in short, fitted dresses carry trays of dishes to deep metal basins at the wall. Standing in a far corner, Jost directs a group of boys. As soon as they disappear from the scene, Jost closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks tired as he leans against the far wall and I’m about to add to his stress. But if I don’t tell him now, I may not ever have the strength. With my free hand I draw out the digifile and consult the map. I’m right above the kitchen. For one moment, I consider turning around. I’ve already ruined everything between us, and nothing will be the same once he knows about Sebrina. But I think of Amie, and although it’s not the same, I know I can’t keep this from him. Moving to the right, I duck into the nearest stairwell. I don’t even have time to think of what I’ll say before the stairs deposit me near the doorway.

The maid nearest me whips her head around and stares at me, her mouth hanging open. Several others stop their dishwashing, but only one wipes her soapy hands on her apron and comes over to me.

‘Miss?’ she says, running her eyes over me doubtfully. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I need to speak with the head valet,’ I say, raising my chin as regally as I can muster.

She purses her lips and squints meaningfully at me. ‘Jost?’

‘If that’s his name,’ I say, waving her off dismissively. I feel like a total bitch, but the more I act like a Spinster, the less curious they’re going to get.

The maid curtsies once and heads back towards the food gens, but I catch her rolling her eyes at another girl, who giggles. One look at my face and the smile drops from hers, and she rushes back to work. They must hate me.

Jost peeks around a door in the back and his eyes widen a bit, but he keeps his expression blank. He exchanges some words with the maid I sent and then walks towards me.

‘Can I help you?’ he asks. There’s not even a hint of friendliness in his voice.

‘Yes, I need your services,’ I say, gesturing to indicate that he should follow.

‘I can send one of my men with you,’ he offers, his eyes flat. ‘I have other responsibilities. I’m not here for your amusement.’

‘I was specifically told to get you,’ I repeat.

A few of the girls around us slow their work to eavesdrop on our exchange.

‘In the future, you can use a companel to send for assistance,’ Jost says, turning to leave me.

‘I don’t think I’ll be needing assistance in the future.’

This stops him. To the others I’m sure my angry words sound spoiled and petty, but Jost knows me too well to dismiss them – even if he wants to.

‘Lead the way,’ he says with a sigh.

In the stairwell, I stop him. ‘We need to talk.’

‘I’m listening,’ he says, crossing his arms against his chest.

‘Somewhere private,’ I whisper.

Jost unfolds his arms and takes a deep breath. A muscle twitches in his neck, but he nods and takes me down to the basement. As we duck through a second door, I recognise the cold paving stones.

‘It’s been too long,’ I murmur, trailing my hand along the moist rock wall that makes up the cell area.

Jost leads me into a cell and pulls out a small handlight. It casts a harsh glow in the room. He leans against a wall and raises one eyebrow.

‘I know I hurt you—’

‘No,’ he says. ‘I can tell by the way you say it. You don’t know, Adelice.’

‘I was protecting you.’ I move closer to him.

‘I don’t need you to protect me.’

‘You’re such a man. Can’t trust a girl do anything.’

I try to turn away, but he catches my wrist.

‘I don’t need you to protect me,’ he repeats softly. ‘I need you to trust me.’

‘I do trust you, idiot,’ I snap.

‘Then let me in,’ he says, pulling me closer.

‘There’s more going on here than you and me,’ I say, inhaling the smell of him – smoke and sweat, something sweet like honeysuckle. I want to pull the strands around us and trap us like this forever. Safe and content, if not happy. I’m not sure happiness is possible for us any more.

‘Maybe,’ he whispers into my hair. ‘But that’s their problem. We need to worry about you and me.’

‘There can’t be a you and me here,’ I say. My whole body is cocooned in his arms, and I press my head to his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat.

‘Here is all we have,’ he says, drawing my face up to meet his eyes. The electricity is back, and it threatens to overwhelm in its intensity.

Jost leans down to kiss me, but I pull away.

‘We won’t even have that for long,’ I say in a soft voice.

His arms drop from around me, and I straighten up, fighting the urge to burrow into his chest.

‘Why are you here?’ he asks, barely controlling the rage in his voice.

I tell him what I’ve learned about Enora and how they plan to remap me. About what I’ve learned from Loricel about Earth and the mantle of Arras. As I speak, the coldness fades from his face, and by the time I tell him about Cormac’s last visit, his hand has found mine again.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, interrupting my tale. ‘I’ve been unfair.’

I shake my head. ‘I deserved it.’

‘You were doing what you thought was best and I—’

‘Jost,’ I butt in, sensing the guilt building in his voice. ‘It’s in the past.’

It’s tender and sincere, and maybe it’s not everything I want to say about how confused but hopeful I feel. It’s not the questions I want to ask or even the one thing I think I want to tell him, but it’s enough.

He breaks into a wide smile and wraps his arms around me.

‘You’re right.’

This time I let him kiss me. It starts slowly, but I press closer to him and clutch his shoulders. He holds my waist, and then his hands, warm and strong, move slowly up my back. Everywhere they touch, my body sings out for more. His lips are soft, but I demand more, sliding my arms tight against his neck and pulling him closer. He responds, his mouth opening against mine, and I feel a tremor run through my body. Finally he pulls back, our foreheads still touching, and we breathe in quick pants against one
another
. His breath is hot on my face, and I struggle to remember what I came to tell him.

‘We have to leave.’ I force the words out before I give in to the ache building up in my chest that begs for the touch of his lips again.

‘Where can we go?’ he asks, straightening up but leaving his hands on my back.

‘I’m still working on that.’

‘But you only have a few days,’ Jost says, kissing the top of my head.

‘I could weave a moment,’ I say, still pressed up against his neck.

‘And never leave?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Do I need to tell you why that won’t work?’

I pull out of his arms and sigh. ‘That’s what the Guild did, and here we are,’ I point out.

‘On a much larger scale,’ he says, ‘and it’s not going too well.’

‘I know. I can’t leave without finding Amie anyway.’

‘Amie’s safe,’ he says, weaving his hand through mine.

I want to believe him as much as I long to run away with him and forget everything I know about the Guild. But I can’t leave Amie in Cypress, and I know he only suggests it because he doesn’t have anything else to lose, except me. That’s about to change though. ‘Would you leave someone you loved?’ I ask, fingering the digifile in my pocket with my free hand. ‘If I leave, the Guild might . . .’

It’s too terrible to even consider.

‘Why? Out of petty revenge? They have no reason to hurt her.’

‘Cormac said something once,’ I confide. ‘He thinks she might be useful. They’re hoping she has my abilities.’

‘But they’ve never proved weaving is genetic.’

‘I know that, but it won’t stop them from taking her. I’m not saying I have to get to her right now, but I have to keep track of her until I know what to do.’ Without realising it, I’ve grabbed a handful of Jost’s shirt, and I’m tugging on it. He loosens my hand gently and takes it in his own.

‘There’s nowhere for us to go,’ he reminds me. ‘They’ll just pull our sequences, and even if you could weave out a moment, how long before they break through that?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. Loricel said it was inevitable, but it’s the only plan I can come up with.

‘We need more time,’ he grumbles.

‘Good thing you’re with a Creweler,’ I say, giving him a half-smile.

‘How will you find Amie anyway? It could take you decades to comb the weave looking for her.’

‘I know her sequence, but the geographic locators will be different. They change that information when they perform an alteration,’ I explain.

‘But even if you had her information, you don’t have the clearance to pull by personal identifying sequence, do you?’ he asks.

‘No, but Loricel does,’ I say.

‘And you think she’ll let you do that?’ His tone is doubtful.

‘I wasn’t going to ask. How do you think I got this information?’

‘We need a better plan than this,’ he mutters. He drops my hands and runs his through his tangled brown hair.

‘I haven’t told you everything,’ I admit, but as much as I want to blurt out what I’ve found, I find myself holding back. I could ignore his past, because time separated us from it, but now that distance would be removed.

He narrows his eyes and takes a breath. ‘Let me have it.’

‘I know how to find Amie.’ My hand closes around the digifile, and I pull it out of my pocket.

‘Didn’t Enora give you that?’

‘Yes, and she left me some other useful information.’ I slide open the weather files and show him the map.

He stares at the digital image, studying it. ‘Is that the compound?’

I answer with a nod. ‘Complete with coordinates. And I’ve already broken into the repository.’

Jost’s head snaps up from the screen. ‘You did what?’

‘I got into the repository,’ I say, trying to act like this is no big deal, because he’s giving me a look that says,
Have you lost your mind?
‘I can find her.’

‘What’s in the room?’ he asks, keeping his eyes on me.

‘Datasets. Info on removals and alterations.’ I don’t tell him about the thin strands in the cubes or the chills they send through me. It sounds too crazy.

‘And you’ve seen them?’ he presses.

I nod and slip my hand back into my pocket. The card is still there, but I can’t bring myself to give it to him.

‘What did they say?’

‘Basic info: ID, removal dates.’ I open the first file to show him Riccard Blane’s info. ‘There’s a tracking program on here that reads the datasets.’

‘How do you think Enora got this program?’ he asks, pacing the small cell.

I shrug. ‘She must have had help.’

‘I wonder—’ he begins.

‘There’s something else I have to tell you,’ I say, jumping in before I lose my nerve.

He stops and waits.

I stare at him for a moment before speaking. I’m not sure I’ll know the Jost who comes out on the other side of this information. ‘Here,’ I say finally, thrusting the card at him.

Taking it, he looks up at me and frowns. ‘What’s this?’

‘Scan it.’ I offer him the digifile.

I hold my breath as the dataset loads, but I know as soon as it has. His brow relaxes and his mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply drops to the ground and stares at the small pad.

‘She’s alive,’ I say in a soft voice, because he can’t find the words.

Most of the time Jost looks like a boy. Even when he hasn’t shaved or is dressed in a tailored suit, the curves of his face are soft and his smile quick. But here in the sharp relief of the handlight, his jaw is angular and the slightest of lines form as he squints, studying the screen. A moment later, when a smile creeps onto his face, it’s not the boyish grin I love, but something that bursts from a deeper part of him. He looks like a man.

‘You found her,’ he whispers, and when he looks up that unfathomable smile extends out to me.

‘She’s safe.’ For now, I add to myself.

‘She’s alive,’ he breathes, as though repeating the words will make them more real. ‘My daughter is alive.’

‘Amie’s in there, too,’ I say.

‘Can we get back in?’ he asks, unable to tear his eyes from the image.

‘I think so,’ I say. ‘But I’ll need your help.’

‘Anything,’ he promises.

‘Jost,’ I say, kneeling down to him, ‘I don’t know if we can get to her.’

He cups my face and kisses me once. A new energy pulses from his lips. His touch leaves traces of fire along my body as though he’s transferred this new vitality to me. I never knew how damaged he was by his loss until now.

‘We’ll find a way,’ he says. ‘We’ll find them both.’

I nod and gently pull the digifile from his hand. Without it, he snaps back into action, inviting me to share my plan. I explain that I’ll need his help getting back into the upper studios, but from there I can break through to the repository and find more information.

‘And then?’ he asks.

‘Then we’ll figure out what to do next,’ I say. It’s a horrible plan, but it’s the only one we have.

Jost pretends to escort me through the compound. It’s perfectly common for the head valet to chaperon a Spinster, but with Cormac on the prowl, I feel a thin veil of sweat forming across my forehead and on my palms. I do my best to look bored, but my pulse is racing and I can feel heat on my cheeks.

When we reach the security door to the upper studios, the guard runs his eyes over us. ‘Does he have clearance?’