“Friends,” he addresses them. “I’m honored that you chose to spend the evening with us.”
I’m guessing there wasn’t much of a choice when they got the invitation.
“My beautiful future bride and I are eager to start a new chapter in Arras. Joining the Guild and the Coventry in marriage is rather, shall we say, unprecedented.”
He waits for the few chuckles this elicits before he continues. “Our great nation is changing and even an old bachelor like me can see this. I’ve been married to my work for a long time. Adelice has shown me that our values and priorities must be realigned. The value of the family cannot be understated, and I look forward to finally contributing”—he winks—“to emphasizing the place of the family in Arras. With the help of my lovely future wife, of course.”
I try to cover my face with my napkin. Perhaps it looks like I’m crying, because the woman sitting next to me pats my shoulder.
“So please join me in raising your glass to the beautiful and talented Adelice. The woman who captured my heart so fully I couldn’t let her escape.”
Truer words were never spoken. I lift my glass, but never get a chance to take a sip. A blast rips through the room, knocking me against the table. The crowd erupts in panic and I look to where Cormac stood seconds ago.
He’s gone.
FIFTEEN
SMOKE UNFURLS ACROSS THE BALLROOM AS PEOPLE cough and scramble toward the exits. A woman is knocked down but no one helps her up, each person too concerned with his or her own mortality to notice. I push through the mass, trying to reach her, but the crowd jostles me farther away. I’m pulled out by Alixandra.
“What’s happening?” I ask. I choke on the smoke burning my nostrils and my throat. It leaves the taste of ash on my tongue and my mouth is too dry to swallow against it.
Alixandra shushes me, peeking out the door and into the chaos.
“I can’t see Cormac.” From her it’s a cold, hard fact: no emotion invested, no anger or concern. It’s all a business transaction. She has secured one precious commodity and now must secure the next.
“We should look for him.” I move to step out the door.
“No, my responsibility is to protect you.”
“Fine,” I say, leaning back against the wall, “but at least tell me what I need protecting from.”
“Revolutionaries, obviously. We haven’t had any issues since Cormac dealt with the Eastern Sector, but this is an organized attack.”
“Is it the Agenda?” I try to keep the hope out of my voice. Not only because I don’t want Alixandra to hear it, but because I don’t want to feel it myself.
“Up here? No way.”
“Then there’s a different revolution in Arras?” I say, playing dumb.
“I was told you were present at the severance of the Eastern Sector.” Alixandra eyes me like I’m a small bug she doesn’t know whether to ignore or squash.
“And I was told that was an isolated incident and that the quarantine would prevent it from spreading into the surviving sectors.”
Alixandra snorts. “Don’t believe everything they tell you.”
“So there’s revolution everywhere then?”
“Ask Cormac how many sectors there were when they created Arras.”
“Wait! What?”
But Alixandra goes back to ignoring me. She hikes up her skirt to reveal a holster tightened around her thigh and withdraws a compact gun. Tilting her head, she calls for transport.
“But we don’t have Cormac,” I remind her. I’m not exactly concerned about his safety, but a small part of me worries about the chaos that would follow if he’s assassinated.
“My priority is you. Cormac has his own security team. In fact, he probably already left,” she says.
“But—”
Alixandra raises a finger and takes another com. “Priority one. Access Alpha Two.”
As she rattles off the security clearance, she turns away from the door and I see my chance. Before she can stop me, I duck back into the smoky room. A few people have collapsed on the floor, but other than that the room is deserted. The lingering haze stings my eyes, but I move forward, looking for Cormac, unsure whether I want to find him among those on the floor.
The cock of a gun stops me in my tracks. I raise my hands dramatically. “You found me,” I say to Alixandra.
“Turn around,” a male voice commands, and icy fear races through me. The man is wearing a gas mask and I can’t see his face. I can see the gun extended to my forehead, though.
As soon as I face him, his hold on the gun slips. Before he can say anything, Alixandra cracks him on the head with her weapon.
“C’mon.” She grabs me by the arm. “Are you trying to get killed?”
“He was lowering his gun,” I tell her, trying to work through the confusion I feel.
“It’s good to know that a group of armed mercenaries won’t shoot an innocent girl,” she says, dragging me out a back exit.
“No, it was more than that. It was like he wanted something from me.”
“He probably did, and it probably wasn’t anything pleasant,” Alixandra says. Outside, our transport screeches up and two officers in tactical vests rush out to help us into the back of the van. Alixandra shoves me inside before I can protest.
“Our orders are to escort Miss Lewys directly to Minister Patton’s private residence,” one of the guards tells us.
“Look at that, Adelice,” Alixandra mutters with a grim smile, “you’re going home.”
* * *
Cormac’s house sits on a hill overlooking the Cypress metro. It’s a concoction of glass and steel beams that jut out in strange ways. As we pull closer, I can see him through the window, pacing. The interior is bare. The click of our footsteps on the slate-tiled floors echoes in the large empty foyer, and the scent of bleach clings to the air, no doubt a side effect of keeping the home’s surfaces so gleaming, pristine. There are no pictures or artwork. No sign that the man who lives here has led an extraordinary life. Perhaps Cormac knows the meaninglessness of objects in a world where anything can be conjured. Or maybe he simply has nothing to cling to—even after two hundred years.
The officers march me past three different security doors. As soon as they deliver Alixandra and me, they leave.
“I’m fine,” I tell Cormac when he asks if I’m okay. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I knew Alixandra would get you out of there,” he says, almost apologizing.
“I went back, looking for you,” I accuse.
“Well, that was very stupid.”
“Don’t worry. I learned my lesson,” I say. “It won’t happen again.”
“And what were you doing letting her out of your sight?” He turns on Alixandra.
“She’s quick and she doesn’t listen,” she says.
I like to think this is the understatement of the year.
“What do you know about this attack?” he asks her.
“Security is sweeping the scene,” Alixandra informs him. “If revolutionaries managed to get in, I’d guess they have someone on the inside.”
“I’ll have to deactivate the personnel we used this evening.”
“Sir?” Alixandra visibly pales at his threat.
“Not you,” he roars. “I want you to check the reinforcements we installed there and double-check the Coventry—”
“I can assure you that the Coventry can’t be breached from the inside or the outside,” Alixandra interrupts him.
“Check again.” His tone is impatient.
Cormac gestures for me to take a seat and Alixandra leaves the room to make her calls. He hasn’t stopped pacing since I spotted him through the window. His bow tie hangs loose and he’s lost his jacket. It’s the most disheveled I’ve ever seen him. I have to admit he’s been through a lot this evening.
“We need to assume that was an assassination attempt,” Cormac tells me.
Yeah, I figured.
“But we don’t
know their target,” he continues.
I stare at him. “I have a pretty good idea.”
“I’m not interested in jokes right now. This is serious,” he says.
“Pardon my delivery, then, but I am dead serious. You can’t possibly think they were after anyone but you.”
“They could have been after you,” Cormac says. “You’re a high-profile target now and your death would cause major upset among the population.”
I think back to the man in the gas mask. He was definitely lowering his gun. “They weren’t after me.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“If I were you I’d stay focused on how they got into the ballroom.” There was security everywhere. Cormac can no longer trust his own men.
“Alixandra and I will deal with those issues,” Cormac says. “It’s time to take decisive action.”
“The last time you took decisive action it cost Arras an entire sector,” I seethe.
“This time my action will be about unity,” he says, “not destruction.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
“I’m moving our wedding up,” Cormac says.
“Okay. Why?” I ask. It’s honestly the last thing I expected to hear, and the last thing I think we should be worried about.
“To send a clear message to Arras that these are joyful times.”
“Oh, definitely,” I say in a flat voice. “Why not just alter everyone?”
“It’s not merely a message to our citizens.”
“It’s a warning to the terrorists, too?” I guess.
“Exactly. I want them to know they can’t scare me.”
And yet these are clearly the actions of a desperate man. Surely the revolutionaries will see that.
“So when?” I ask.
“I was thinking next week, once Alixandra has confirmed the new security measures are stable.”
“Next week?” I struggle to wrap my head around this. Marrying Cormac will give me access to his home, his office, his life. Everything I need and all that I hate.
“You will stay within the Coventry until security has prepared to transfer you here,” he informs me. “Say goodbye to Amie while you’re there.”
“She’ll be at the wedding, though?” My throat constricts on the question.
“Absolutely not,” he snarls.
“Why punish her? She has nothing to do with this.” My words are thick, coated in a mixture of fear and anger and disappointment.
“Someone tried to kill you tonight,” he reminds me. “I won’t put Amie in harm’s way. End of discussion.”
I’m frozen to the spot, trying to understand why Cormac Patton cares about what happens to my sister. I know there’s something missing, but I can’t quite add it up. “She’s not in danger.”
Cormac’s fist slams against his chair. “I will decide that. Amie will not be risked.”
“So you can use her against me?” I guess, glaring at him as my fingers twitch inside my gloves.
“Not everything is about you, Adelice.”
“What reason do you have to care about my sister?”
He presses his index finger to his temple. “You think I’m heartless, but perhaps you’ll finally understand me once we’re married. Thankfully, we’ll be married within the week.”
I gasp at this further change of plans. “I’m not ready.”
“It’s time to grow up, Adelice.”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” I say in a quiet voice, not to be argumentative, but because it’s the truth. I thought I would have more time. Time to forget Erik. Or at least time to find another way to stop Cormac.
“Why? Because of your destiny?” he mocks. “Because you’re the Whorl?”
“I didn’t ask to be.”
“You think because some madman gave you a nickname it makes you special?” he demands. He grabs me and shoves me against the wall. “I determine who is special in this world.”
“What you do is far worse than a simple determination.” I brace myself against the plaster behind me. I can no longer keep it from spilling out. “You twist, Cormac. You twist the truth, nature, and worst of all, people. Especially yourself.”
“And now the Whorl will stop me, right?”
I consider this. I want to stop him. I need to. “I’m not sure anything could stop you.”
Except one thing.
My fingers lash out and grab for his strands. If I can catch them correctly, I can control him.
The only thing left is to manipulate him. Once he’s under my command, I can even unwind him. The possibilities are endless. All it took was realizing that he would never redeem himself—that he doesn’t want to.
But my fingers catch on his shirt.
Instead of ripping through it and down into the very matter that composes him, my fingers catch, fire bursting through them. I fall back as the flames dance inside my skin. I try to pull off the satin gloves, but Cormac grabs my wrists, pinning them in his strong grip.
“Do you think I would be stupid enough to remain unprotected around you?” he asks.
“They’re gages?” I say, and Cormac nods. “So much for trust.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Adelice. This is not a relationship based on trust. It never will be,” he says. “More gloves await you at the Coventry. You will always wear them in my presence until a more permanent arrangement can be reached.”
A tremble races through me at his threat. “And if I don’t?”
“I’m protected. Remember that,” he warns me.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“What is your plan? Are you going to kill me? Take my face? Alter my memory?” he asks with a laugh, stumbling back toward the mantel.
So he’s known all along that I planned to alter him. I showed my hand when I attacked Kincaid, and Cormac was smart enough to protect himself even after our arrangement. “You still want to continue this charade?”
“You cannot possibly understand how far I would go for Arras.” Squatting down, he reaches past the grate and places his hand in the fire, withdrawing a remnant of wood as I stare, unable to move.
He stands to face me, crushing the smoldering wood between his hands. It turns to ash, blackening his burned palms. He’s beyond anything mortal, like pain. He’s evolved past it.
Instead of staying pressed to the wall, I saunter toward him and jab a finger at his chest. “There will come a day, Cormac, when no amount of technology will save you, and not only will I be there, I’ll feel your life in my hands.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Cormac growls, but he doesn’t touch me again. Instead, he calls for his valet to bring him renewal patches. Security arrives shortly after to escort me to the rebound station. Before I leave, Cormac looks up from his wounds and smiles at me.
“Good night, Adelice. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The farewell is almost sweet, so I nod, confusion churning inside me. As I climb the stairs, trailed by a guard, the emotion inside me shifts to fear.
If I was truly the Whorl, I could hold things together. Instead, everything is unraveling. Even Cormac.
SIXTEEN
AMIE MILLS ABOUT MY QUARTERS WHILE SERVANTS bustle in and out, packing my trunks in preparation for the wedding, which will take place in the Northern Sector. She does a good job of looking excited, but the joy doesn’t reach her eyes. Immediately after I returned from the engagement gala, Cormac sent her a telebound with the news that she wouldn’t be coming to the wedding, leaving me to deal with her disappointment for the past two days. His message explained she was too young to attend a political function.
For once, he’s calling something as it is. Our engagement is politics, after all.
“You aren’t missing anything,” I tell her. “A bunch of snooty ministers and their wives, each vying to be the biggest suck-up.”
“Oh, I know,” she says, but her words are punctuated with sighs. “I can watch on the St
ream. You’ll be on the purple carpet. Cormac promised the whole event will be filmed.”
Admiration colors her words and I cringe. I’m no longer the girl who watched the purple carpet with glee in her living room. Now I know about balancing on heels and fending off drunk ministers with grabby hands. But one look at Amie’s face, and I suddenly wish I could enjoy it. I pretend to be giddy—if only to cheer her up for a moment.
“What if I trip?” I ask, dropping onto my bed and widening my eyes for effect.
“You should practice.” Amie plucks a pair of heels from a loaded rack and tosses them next to me. “Show me how it’s done.”
I slip them onto my feet, left foot first. I watch for some sign that Amie has noticed this old ritual of our mother and grandmothers, but there’s no recognition on her face.
“Gloves?” She holds up a pair of petite white gloves.
“They’re back in fashion,” I say in a tight voice.
“I’ll have to get some,” she says as she lays them back on my bed.
I bite my lip so hard I taste iron on my tongue. Cormac’s orders were clear. As soon as I leave the walls of the Coventry, I am to wear them. There’s been no more mention of the permanent solution that will forever cripple my abilities, and for now I can only hope the gloves will pacify him. Either way, after I leave here, I will never touch again. Not really. He’ll rob me of my strongest sense—with a pair of gloves or an alteration. All I will have is the memory of the weave tingling across my fingertips and of the hot pressure of Erik’s fingers threaded through mine.
“Will you return here?” she asks, drawing me back to this moment.
“Cormac expects me to live with him in the Northern Sector,” I tell her as I blink back tears.
“Oh.” Amie deflates a bit in front of me and I grab her hand.
“You can stay with us as soon as this wedding nonsense is over.”
“Promise?”
“I do.” I mean it. If I go through with this, maybe I can rebuild my family a little, but still when Pryana enters the room, I look to her, hopeful she’s come to pass along a message from the Agenda. They must know of Cormac’s plans, but she shakes her head slightly as though she can read my mind. No one is coming to help me.