Crewel

‘That usually works in my favour,’ he admits in a whisper as Cormac exits his room to meet us.

It’s not that I don’t like Erik. I even think he’s charming. Maybe it’s my years of inexperience with boys that make his flirtations more awkward than endearing.

‘You look lovely, Adelice,’ Cormac says, taking my hand. He ushers me out to the waiting motocarriage. I wobble on my high pinpoint heels as I step out of the hotel, but Erik’s hand shoots out to steady me. Before I can thank him, he’s faded back behind me. Stream crews call out questions, but I can’t see past the perpetual flashes of light from their cameras. I press closer to Cormac for safety despite his stinging smell. Part of me wishes I had a few doses of Valpron right now to make the whole thing easier, but I suppose it’s for the best that I don’t. I’m going to need to keep my wits about me if I’m going to get through the evening without making a serious social blunder.

Cormac beams and calls many of the crewmen by name. He answers questions, keeping his arm tightly around my waist the whole time. Once we’re safely inside the motocarriage, I pull out of his grasp and run my hand along my dress to smooth out the wrinkles where he held me.

‘Can’t wait to get away from me?’ he asks, his dark eyes gone hard.

‘I’m overwhelmed,’ I admit.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he reassures me, lighting a cigar. ‘We’re doing a simple ribbon-cutting ceremony, a few pictures, and then back to the hotel.’

No more dinners or meetings or interviews after this. It’s such a relief.

‘I can cut a ribbon,’ I tell him confidently.

‘Arras, I hope so. You’re a Spinster after all.’ He keeps the condescending grin on his face as he puffs smoke rings.

I’m not sure what to make of Cormac. I hate him, but increasingly, I’m not sure I’m justified in that. Sure, he’s creepy and arrogant, but of the people I’ve met since my retrieval, strangely, he’s shown me the most respect. If you call brutal honesty respect, that is.

The motocarriage pulls up to a large crowd. Most of the neighbourhood must be here. Seeing that many people makes my hands shake, which is going to be problematic if I have to cut a ribbon. Cormac opens my door and helps me out. There are Stream crews and dozens of people. But something about the crowd is strange. On each of our stops, the people have been frenzied, trying to touch us or calling our names, but the citizens here are fairly calm. Some even look bored, as though they were forced to come. They probably were, but that’s nothing new.

‘So why are we cutting a ribbon here?’ I ask Cormac as he escorts me to a large brick building. I look for the telltale sign that will indicate what its purpose is, but I can’t find it due to the audience surrounding the structure.

‘It’s their new academy,’ he answers, placing one hand on my elbow and guiding me firmly to the front door.

If it wasn’t for his arm propelling me forward, I would have stopped on the spot.

‘I’m cutting a ribbon at an academy,’ I say, turning to him, ‘in Cypress.’

Cormac keeps his gaze on the path in front of us and doesn’t respond. Suddenly I’m remembering why I hate him. So that’s why I’m here. As a reminder of what I’ve done. The threat isn’t lost on me. Looking out over the crowd, I wonder why they’re so placid. The Guild must have fed them a lot of lies to keep them from turning on us. Did they say it was an accident, like the story Amie told us about Mrs Swander?

Even if they did, the people here are too complacent. There’s not a single person with a hint of rage or pain flashing across his or her face.

And then it hits me. They don’t know what happened.

‘What did you do to them?’ I whisper.

‘Why would I do anything to them?’ Cormac asks with feigned innocence.

‘What do they think happened to the academy?’ I ask, unwilling to play his little game.

‘That’s not the point, doll,’ Cormac says with a smirk. ‘This isn’t about them. It’s about you.’

By this point, we’re at the door and he hands me a pair of giant ceremonial scissors. Sadly, they’re heavy and dull. All for show. But maybe if I aim just right . . . 

Cormac’s grin fades, and he steps back. Not in fear, but to let me know he can see what I’m thinking and that it won’t work. He’s saved from me trying by another man, from the looks of it an official, who strides over.

As soon as Cormac turns to speak with him, an older woman approaches, eyeing me interestedly. She’s not a Cypress citizen. Her age shows in her withered skin and silver hair, but even with the marks of time all over her, I see no sign of the deep, honey skin and silky black hair the citizens of Cypress share.

‘You’re Cormac’s escort, then?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ I say, trying to hold my chin up.

‘Shameless,’ she mutters, as I realise that she’s older than anyone else I’ve met. Even in Romen, basic renewal patching assures everyone a relatively youthful appearance, but this woman’s skin is as brittle and wrinkled as old paper, despite the layer of cosmetics she wears. She has to be here with the Guild, maybe she’s even a Spinster stationed at the Northern Coventry, but she’s clearly not taking advantage of the renewal patching available.

‘Loricel, I see you’ve met my escort,’ Cormac says, returning to my side.