Pillars loom overhead, creating an artificial lighting system that mimics the sun. It’s bright and warm, and the light sparkles off the water in the pools and fountains, nearly blinding me. But tucked behind the stately buildings and manicured gardens, a series of smokestacks billows against the Interface.
“Jax will show you in,” Dante says, gesturing to a lanky boy waiting at the top of the stairs. “I’m going to see to our prisoner.”
“I want to see her. I need to talk to her,” I say as Dante turns away. I have so many questions for her. No matter what the Guild has done to her, she might still have answers. And I miss her.
“I promise you can later, but right now she needs to be secured for—”
“Our safety,” I finish for him.
“Exactly,” Dante says through tight lips.
The friendliness Dante exhibited toward Jost and me on our first meeting has cooled. He brought us here, starting out at first light, and he barely spoke to us as we took the twisting roads through the mountains to reach Kincaid. Maybe my talent unnerves him, but I suspect it’s something more.
“Welcome,” Jax calls as he bounces down the steps.
“Kincaid is expecting us,” Dante says.
“I’ll take care of them,” Jax says, “and I have a message for you once you’re done, uh…” He stares at my mother in Dante’s arms, undoubtedly wondering why we’ve brought a Remnant onto the estate.
“I’ll find you later,” Dante says, carrying my mother away.
Jax is so skinny he looks years younger than Jost or Erik. But his eyes are surrounded by wrinkles, and they light up when he grins widely as he sticks his hand out to shake each of ours, repeating our names as we introduce ourselves—the greeting so easy and natural that I can’t help but relax a little for the first time since yesterday’s crazy events.
“I had them put some drinks in the assembly room for you,” Jax tells us. “Kincaid is in a business meeting, but he’ll join you at lunch.”
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the smokestacks.
“Power plant. It hosts the grids for the estate and the Icebox,” Jax says.
“That’s where you store the solar energy you collect?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We utilize a hybrid photovoltaic system with a coal-based generator that—”
“So basically it’s where the power comes from?” Erik stops him.
“Yeah,” Jax says with a laugh. We follow him into the main building, trailing behind as he chatters about the locations of toilets and how to call a servant. But I’m mesmerized by the statues that lurk in every corner and the detailed portraits that hang from the carved wooden panels. Tapestry after tapestry with precise, intricate embroidery chills my blood. There are faces everywhere, frozen in time, watching me as I enter the house. Between the patterns and colors and ornamentation, my head begins to hurt. The assembly room contains a variety of seating choices, arranged in clusters. Against the far wall, a tall hearth, at least twice my height, lords over the room. My feet sink into the plush, woven rug as I melt into a sofa. The sofa is very elegant and very small, and I perch on it uncomfortably. Jax excuses himself, leaving the three of us alone in the grand room.
“Drink?” Erik asks, lifting a crystal decanter toward us.
“No, thank you,” Jost says, and his formality irks me. Will we ever move past this awkwardness between the two of them?
“Not at the moment,” I tell Erik.
“If it’s poisoned, at least you’ll be rid of me.” Erik shrugs, nonplussed by our refusal, pouring a bit of the amber liquid into a tumbler. He shifts back, draping his arm around the sofa and throwing a leg across the seat. He looks at ease in this setting, not at all put off by the oppressive grandeur of our surroundings.
“So should we take a look around?” Erik asks a few minutes later, depositing his empty glass on the table.
I scoot a coaster under it, afraid to mar the pristine wood. Something tells me this Kincaid fellow would notice.
“This place has to be crawling with security,” Jost points out. “Maybe we should wait a day or two before we label ourselves troublemakers.”
With their cards on the table, the brothers glare at each other and then inevitably turn to me—tie-breaker extraordinaire.
“Jost is right,” I agree, although I hate to take sides. “And they’re probably listening to us now. I bet we wouldn’t get far.”
“Well that only leaves the elephant in the room then,” Erik says. “Your mom.”
Suddenly I want to jump up and go exploring. Anything to avoid this conversation, but I can’t ignore it forever. “So my mom’s a Remnant.”
It’s liberating to say it out loud, as though I’ve taken the first step in accepting the fact.
“Yes, but what is a Remnant exactly?” Jost asks. “How did the Guild do this?”
“I interacted with them. They’re as smart as we are, maybe even more cunning, like they’ve been tuned into some primal frequency,” Erik says.
“But how?” Jost’s question feels more desperate this time, and I think of his wife.
“We know the Guild can remap and alter. They did it to Enora,” I remind him, taking his hand.
“They seem to have perfected their technique,” Jost mutters.
I frown. He’s right. Enora’s alteration backfired horribly, resulting in her suicide, but the Remnants seem fully functional. “Listen, there’s something I haven’t told you,” I whisper. I relay the story of the clear cubes tucked away in storage at the Coventry.
“What do you think they are?” Jost asks.
“Souls,” I say without hesitation. “Dante told us they remove the Remnants’ souls, and the strands I found were too thin to be full people. I knew that then, but Loricel told me that people who die before they’re ripped lose part of their strand. I think it’s the key to understanding this. Spinsters rip people so the Guild can reuse them.”
“So they separate the soul from the body?” Jost muses. “But why? It seems like a lot of work for no good reason.”
“Take Enora. They didn’t remove her soul, so it didn’t work.”
“But why wouldn’t they remove Enora’s soul if it was going to cause a problem?”
“I can’t say exactly, but if I had to guess I think it comes back to something Loricel told me. Cormac was scared to do it to me. That’s why they tested it on Enora, and when it backfired, they couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t have a similar reaction,” I tell them.
“But they were planning to map you,” Erik says.
“No,” I say slowly as the pieces start to fit together. “They’d already mapped me. Cormac was positive they could splice my skill set into another Spinster, someone ready and willing to do what they asked. Someone who wouldn’t reject the manipulation.”
“Who?” Jost asks.
“My guess?” Erik says. He pours another drink and doesn’t meet our eyes. “Pryana. She’s as power hungry as Maela, but easier to control. That must have been why she was there that night.”
I’d forgotten Pryana was there on the night of our escape. Her presence had seemed so trivial. Pryana blamed me for her sister’s death after Maela, the manipulative Spinster in charge of our training, made an example of my refusal to rip a thread from Arras. Maela took out an entire academy instead, Pryana’s sister included, and ever since, Pryana had been eager to rise to a position of power over me. Of course she’s the Spinster Cormac would choose for the experiment. He enjoys making me squirm.
“But if the technology hadn’t worked, they’d have jeopardized you and her,” Jost says.