“I am the substitute Caretaker. My name is Tessela. It is my responsibility to heal any minor injuries that do not require the medical officer’s attention.” She pressed her ungloved hand against Lucky’s bleeding temple. When she pulled back her hand, the wound was healed, the blood dried and crusted. “Due to this recent incident, the Warden has determined that the artifacts from Earth, such as the ceramic dog, are too dangerous; you cannot be trusted with them if you insist on hurting one another. The Warden has given the order to phase them out over the next week. They will be replaced with imitations.”
Nok gaped. The radio with the knobs that looked like a smiling face. The painting set. The books in the bookstore. They were replacing them with toys that would feel wrong and smell wrong.
As if sensing her thoughts, Tessela turned to her. “That goes for your child as well. The Warden has determined, given this violent incident, that your cohort is too unstable for a child to be raised among you. Once you deliver your child, we will transport it to the standard facility, where it will be cared for.” Tessela gripped the apparatus in her chest and, with a wave of pressure, flickered away.
Nok’s breath caught. Pain ripped through her head, but it was nothing compared to the panic flooding her chest. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. Her hands pressed against her abdomen protectively. They were going to take her baby away? All because of one fight? Her thoughts churned faster, panic rising. She had to fix this. She had to convince the Kindred—but she couldn’t win them over with a flirtatious smile, that was for sure.
It hadn’t even been Nok’s fault. She had done nothing but obey the rules.
Cora had been the one who’d broken them.
Rage started boiling inside of her, heating her up faster and faster until she feared she’d melt. She had thought Cora was a friend. She had defended her against Rolf’s claims. And this is what she got for her friendship—her baby ripped away?
Pain fractured behind her left eye, and she doubled over. A memory overcame her. Standing on the tarmac in Chiang Mai, in her older sister’s finest dress that her mother had patched, a backpack with fifteen hundred baht and a bag of peanuts in case she got hungry. Her parents pulling her into a stiff hug, her mother trying not to cry. “Like winning the lottery,” her mother had said, and then, less than twenty-four hours later, arriving at a London apartment and realizing she’d practically been sold into slavery.
She’d grown up with strangers, forced to be photographed, observed.
Her daughter would not have that life.
Her daughter would have a mother.
Nok crouched next to Lucky, forcing herself to keep her rage tamped down. She had seen how Delphine had handled this kind of situation—not with raised voices, but with soft ones. Not with fists, but with whispered words.
She smoothed Lucky’s hair. “You see?” She petted the healed place on his forehead. “Rolf was right. This is what Cora has done to us. They’re taking away everything we have because of her violent tendencies. Even my baby. It doesn’t matter if she was a good person. She’s crazy now, and she has to be stopped before she ruins everything.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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46
Cora
WHEN THE REMATERIALIZATION WAS over, Cora found herself in a small room nearly bare of furniture. Open doorways led to two more small rooms. It didn’t have the medical chamber’s austerity, nor the market’s bustling chaos, nor the menagerie’s faux Greek columns. But starry light came from the seams in the wall, marking it as a Kindred space.
Cassian held her tightly. As soon as he released her, she took a quick step away.
She crossed to the single window and shoved open the curtain, afraid to see a black window and know she was still being watched. But on the other side was the night sky filled with endless stars. Some so faint they were nearly invisible, some close enough to burn her eyes. In the center was a distant planet, ringed like Saturn, the blue color of water. She had to grab the curtain to keep from falling.
“This is what’s outside? Outer space?”
“That is a projected image. I selected it for you.” He paused. “I know you like the stars.” He traced a pattern on the wall in the central room, where a cabinet slid out, revealing a square container and a single square drinking glass.
She peeked into one of the other rooms. A bed with no sheets or blankets, and a shelf holding a few blue cubes and nothing else. Had he brought her to a prison cell?
“Where are we?” she asked.
“My quarters.” He spoke so casually that Cora barely had time to register before he pointed to the sitting room. “Sit in there.”
“Your quarters? I thought you’d take me to one of the menageries.”