by Rosiee Thor
Anna’s cheeks burned a warning. She wanted to smack the self-important look off Eliza’s face. She wanted to feel Eliza’s smooth skin against her palm again. She wanted somewhere to put the concoction of anger and attraction coiling together in her chest.
“You’ve no idea how much I know,” she said instead. If they were alone, she’d show her exactly what she knew.
As if Eliza could see inside Anna’s mind, she whispered, “I’d like to see you prove it.”
“It’s not a terrible idea,” said Nathaniel, his voice shattering the tension. “If you pose as Eliza’s lady-in-waiting, you’ll be under her employ, not my father’s, and you won’t have to actually do any servant work. Stay here, and we’ll fetch you a uniform.”
Anna didn’t need more convincing, her breath still short, her cheeks still warm. “Fine, but I won’t be treated like I’m lower class.”
“You aren’t lower class,” Eliza said as Nathaniel led her toward the door. “I’d be surprised if you had any class at all.”
Anna was still fuming when she closed the door after Nathaniel and Eliza left. Eliza’s words stung in ways Anna didn’t know possible. The girl was pure, aristocratic toxin—everything Anna despised about nobility and Orbitals. She even smelled like the false flowers she wore.
How dare she call Anna classless? How dare she have an opinion on Anna at all?
But though her words were vile, Eliza wasn’t wrong. Anna belonged to neither high society nor low. She was not of society in the first place. The Technician bowed to no law, carried no class. She did not care what a lady of Nathaniel’s world thought of her. Because Anna’s world, broken as it was, mattered more, and she’d be damned if she couldn’t find a way to fix it. Ruby and Thatcher hung heavy on her mind, their despair, their disappointment. If she could just earn them back, it wouldn’t matter what Eliza thought of her.
Still, Eliza’s comments buried themselves in Anna’s skin like splinters. And her eyes—her eyes! They were daggers, and yet Anna did not bleed. She wanted to shut Eliza away so she couldn’t see her, and at the same time, Anna wanted to stare at her for hours on end, memorizing Eliza’s face so she could take it with her everywhere she went.
It was a foolish fancy. Eliza had made it clear she detested everything about Anna, from her frizzy hair to her lack of propriety. And so Anna would detest her right back. She would detest her perfect curls and her rosy cheeks, and especially her high manner.
Anna resolved to care less about the Orbital, and also to wash and detangle her hair.
And then there was Nathaniel, whose convictions were as murky as ocean waves. His stance on their rebellion had changed so often that Anna didn’t know whether or not this new uncertainty would stick. She might wake to discover he had recommitted to acting against his father. Or perhaps half a dozen officers would haul her from her sleep to be executed.
He was the worst kind of unpredictable: loyal to everyone except himself. He wanted to please his unappeasable father, protect his dead mother, and earn Anna’s forgiveness all at once. She ought to put him out of his misery, but how could she forgive him when she couldn’t forgive herself? Roman’s death was not hers to forgive. It was hers to carry, and she wasn’t ready to bear the weight alone.
Even so, pity rose from the depths of her chest. Not for the first time, Anna was struck by a sameness hanging between them, as if one was an echo of the other. Anna had been too young to remember her parents’ deaths, but loss was no stranger to her. Mechan quaked with tragedy nearly every day, so common she’d stopped feeling the tremors. But Nathaniel, who’d known privilege and safety all his life, still endured the loss of his mother as though it had been yesterday. It held him back, coiled around his wrists like chains, while Roman’s death, which had truly been just yesterday, propelled her forward.
Their grief was different. And it was the same.
Anna let her hand trail over the alchemy book, dust finding its way beneath her fingernails. She’d been so sure she’d find answers inside, but instead more questions found their way to the surface. The cure she wanted was still out of reach, an idea, a possibility, intangible and delicate.
She had to do right by Roman. She had to do right by Ruby. In this, she had no allies, only Ruby’s mother to guide her from the past. She could count on neither Nathaniel nor Eliza to help her.
She would save Mechan the only way she knew how.
Alone.
Eliza returned an hour later with good news and a maid uniform.
“Three days till the ball,” she said, tossing the maroon-and-gray garment at Anna.
“That’s soon.” Anna scowled at the colors she’d spent her whole life hating. Too many lives had been taken by maroon and gray.
“Not as soon as I’d like.”
“I would have thought you’d want more time to prepare. Don’t you have decorating to do or something?”
Eliza leaned toward the vanity, dabbing at a dark smudge beneath her eye. “The Commissioner has a staff for that. I’m more concerned three days will be too many to keep you out of trouble.”
“So now I’m the impatient one?”
Eliza eyed her, making Anna’s skin prickle. “No, you’re right. Three days is too few to properly prepare you for a public display.”
Anna sighed. She didn’t have the energy to quarrel with someone so adept at verbal sparring. “I’ll brush my hair, if that’s what you mean, but with any luck, no one will be looking at me anyway.” She held up the uniform. “I’ll be invisible, remember?”
Eliza stared at the garment for one tick, two ticks, three ticks, before plucking it from Anna’s hand and throwing it on the vanity. “No, that simply won’t do.”
“Well, unless you want me attending your party in nothing but my underthings, I’m afraid we’re out of options.”
Eliza looked as though she might be considering it, but then she stormed across the room and flung open her wardrobe, revealing an array of gowns in every color. “Oh, we have options,” she said, before pulling dress after dress from inside.
Anna took a step back. “No, no—I’m supposed to be your lady-in-waiting. I can’t wear any of those.”
Eliza paused, a deep blue frock in her hands. “Do you know what a lady-in-waiting is?”
Anna blinked. She thought she did. Was this just another opportunity for Eliza to lord her superiority over her?
“I used to be one,” Eliza said quietly, sinking back onto the bed. “I used to be a lot of things before I was me.”
Anna peered down at her, catching the slightest tremble of Eliza’s lip.
“I’m not a noble,” she whispered. “I’ve seen how they treat anyone who’s not, and I don’t— I shouldn’t act like them in an effort to be one. It’s unhelpful, and it’s unkind.”
At first, Anna thought she’d misheard her. “Are you all right?” The Eliza before her was softer, like she’d been blurred at the edges.
Eliza shrugged. “It’s not your fault you’re unrefined.”
There was the Eliza that Anna had come to know. It was as close to an apology she was likely to get, so instead of a retort, she asked, “Exactly what is a lady-in-waiting, then?”
Eliza’s voice returned to its usual level. “A lady-in-waiting is not a servant. Behind closed doors, she is a confidant, a comfort, perhaps even a friend. But to the public eye, she’s a reflection of her mistress.”
“I’m not calling you mistress,” Anna huffed, crossing her arms.
“Of course not.” Eliza frowned.
“And I’m not going to wait on you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of asking you to.” The corner of Eliza’s lip twitched. “But you’ll wear the dress?”
Anna narrowed her eyes, the ghost of her itchy market costume brushing against her skin.
Eliza tilted her head down to look up at her through thick eyelashes. “Please?”
“Fine,” Anna grumbled. “Which one of these monstrosities do you want me to wear?”
Eliza’s lips turned up in a smile, setting Anna’s heart alight. “Nothing too dark—it’s a soirée, after all, and nothing bright. We don’t want to draw too much attention to you, and your hair’s already practically a beacon.”
Anna tugged on her braid.
“Something pleasant and pastel, perhaps?” Eliza laid out three gowns on the bed—a light pink dress made of lace, a green abomination of layered sheer fabric, and pale blue frock with a gray silk sash. “You choose.”
Anna held her breath. She preferred her borrowed trousers to any of the gowns Eliza had shown her, but at least Eliza was giving her a choice.
“The blue one.”
“Good.” Eliza picked up the dress and held it up to Anna’s side. “It’ll be a little short, but it’ll cover your heart, at least—can’t have anyone spotting your tech. Plus, it will match your eyes.”
Anna stared at her boots.
“Go ahead, try it on!” Eliza shoved it toward her. “I won’t look, I promise.”
Anna couldn’t decide if it would be more tolerable for Eliza to see her in a dress or completely bare. At least with the latter, she would still look like herself.
“All right, I think I’ve got it,” Anna said once she’d fastened the sash around her waist with shaking hands.
Eliza turned around, hands wound together in a knot of fingers. She took one look at Anna before bursting into laughter.
Anna’s heart sank. She’d known it must look as ridiculous as her usual Celestial Market costume, but she’d not thought herself laughable. She never should have agreed to wear it in the first place. Anna grabbed for the lace around her neck and tugged.
“No! Don’t!” Eliza threw out a hand, but it was too late.
Fabric split beneath Anna’s fingers as she struggled, a small hole blooming on the cloth across her chest. Every inch of her skin reddened. “See? I should wear the uniform instead. I’ll just take this off.”
“Don’t you dare!” Eliza bounded to her side and tugged her in front of the vanity to see her reflection. “You’ve got your head through one of the armholes, see?” She pointed to the frills around Anna’s neck.
“So it’s not supposed to look like this?” Anna asked, relieved.
“Let me help.” Eliza pulled the sleeve over Anna’s head.
Anna did not breathe as Eliza laced up the back of the dress, her fingertips grazing every inch of Anna’s spine. Slowly, skin slid across skin as though Eliza was not only dressing her but painting a masterpiece on the small of Anna’s back. Eliza penned the finishing touch—a gentle brush of her thumb against the base of Anna’s neck—before letting out a long breath.
“That’s better,” Eliza said.
“It doesn’t matter. I ruined the dress.”
“You ruined nothing at all.” From a drawer in the vanity, Eliza whipped a needle and thread. “Nothing I can’t mend, anyway. Now hold still.”
Anna tried to keep her heart rate under control as Eliza’s fingers danced across the fabric, pulling and tugging it into place. But then Eliza stopped, her pinkie pressed against Anna’s shoulder, eyes fixed to the tear in the dress—to her chest.
Anna tipped her head down, their faces only inches apart. She held her breath, waiting, watching, wanting.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Eliza pulled back her hand.
Anna looked down. The tear in the dress, only an inch or two long, revealed scars and steel—the top of her TICCER exposed.
Eliza hadn’t seen a TICCER before. Neither had most people, for that matter. But the TICCER was simply part of Anna, as constant as every freckle on her skin.
“It’s all right. I can stitch skin well enough. I’m sure I can sew up fabric.” Anna reached for the needle.
But Eliza did not hand it over. Instead, her free hand tangled with Anna’s sleeve, fingers brushing against fingers. “I’ve had a hundred questions all day, but now I can only think to ask … is it cold?”
Anna couldn’t think. Not with Eliza’s face so close, with their hands barely touching. So she stopped trying to make sense of the other girl. Instead, she grabbed Eliza’s hand and guided it to the laceration in her dress, laying her fingers flat against metal.
Eliza didn’t pull away this time, eyes falling somewhere between her hand and Anna’s chin. They stayed like that for a moment. One tick, two ticks, three ticks … Then, without a word, Eliza lifted her fingers and replaced them with her needle, weaving back and forth to sew her dress back up.
“There we are.” Eliza let her hands fall away. “Now you look every part the lady-in-waiting.”
The dress made Anna feel false, like a doll in a costume, but Eliza’s eyes on her made her feel real. It didn’t matter what she wore, as long as it made Eliza look at her—touch her—like that.
Swallowing, Anna pulled on her braid. “What about my hair? Should I put it up like yours?”
“No. Leave it in a braid.”
Anna raised an eyebrow. “It’s not too unrefined?”
Eliza took the braid from her, running her fingers over the uneven plait, and said, “I like you a little unrefined.”
Eliza was not accustomed to being caught, and yet three times she’d allowed Anna to see her staring. No, staring wasn’t the right word. Eliza did not stare; she observed. Not that Anna would know the difference.
“What?” Anna asked sharply.
Eliza startled. “I— Nothing. What?”
“You keep staring at me.”
“I do not!” Eliza averted her gaze, turning in her chair back toward the vanity. She had more self-control than anyone she knew, so why couldn’t she summon it?
Their eyes met in the vanity mirror.
“If you’re so offended by my appearance, you don’t have to look at me.”
Eliza’s chest tightened. “I—”
“Seriously, read a book or something. It’ll do you good.” She held up the alchemy book. “Hell, pretend to read a book.”
“I read plenty, I’ll have you know.”
Anna wasn’t wrong. Some light reading might be beneficial, but Eliza had something a little heavier in mind. After she’d left Nathaniel by the stairs—with him ascending to his room and her returning to Anna with the uniform—a hollow feeling had pooled in her stomach. She’d dismissed it as sleep deprivation or hunger, but she’d taken a nap and eaten some cake and still the feeling persisted.
Eliza was a player short. There was no denying it. The uncertainty she’d expected to find at any moment in Anna instead had surfaced in the waver of Nathaniel’s gaze, in the tremor of his voice. She’d hoped the promise of her protection against his father, though unspoken, would be enough to keep him by her side, but it wasn’t the key to controlling Nathaniel.
The game had changed, but Eliza hadn’t. She was still the Queen’s Eyes, the most skilled strategist on the Tower. She couldn’t let something as simple as unpredictability best her. Nathaniel was her target, and though she’d misunderstood the root of his particular weakness, she could still learn more about it.
And then she could exploit it.
She’d listened as his soul reached out to connect—to her, to Anna, to his father. Nathaniel had lost so much so young, but the pain behind his eyes was fresh. Eliza, too, had lost someone—she knew how acutely those pangs could hit, even years later. Marla still haunted her every day, and she knew no matter how it ebbed, no matter how she healed, Marla’s death would lurk under her skin until Eliza joined her.
But that was the thing about loss: Death could rip love from life, but those memories stayed behind, burning a hole through the heart. And Nathaniel hadn’t lost his father—he’d never truly had one; he’d lost a mother, a woman he didn’t know, a woman he clearly loved.
Eliza couldn’t bring back the dead, but she could do the next best thing. She flung open the vanity drawer, withdrawing her holocom.
“What is that?” Anna asked, a wave of wrinkles distorting her freckled skin.
&nbs
p; Eliza sighed, turning back to face her. “Just because it doesn’t have pages doesn’t make my reading material any less valuable.”
Anna set down her book and crossed the room. “No, I really mean—what is that?”
“It’s a holocom.”
“How illuminating,” Anna deadpanned.
“Everyone on the Tower has one, or something like it.” Eliza set it down on the vanity and pulled up the command panel. “They’re all synced to a general library of information full of important documents, literature, logs from Former Earth. Really, you can access anything, as long as it was written somewhere and uploaded to the cloud.”
Anna’s fingers shook as she reached for the device, her eyes wide and hungry.
Scooting the holocom to the side, Eliza placed herself between it and Anna. “Why the sudden interest? Isn’t your book enough for you?”
Anna didn’t take her eyes off the holocom, speaking in barely more than a whisper. “I want to know how it works. Ever since I saw one in the Commissioner’s office—”
“You saw the Commissioner’s holocom?” Eliza asked, her voice sharper than she’d intended.
“Yes, when Nathaniel locked me in his office.” Anna finally tore her eyes from the holocom, meeting Eliza’s. “Is it such a surprise he’d have one? He’s from the Tower, isn’t he?”
Eliza stood up, gripping the edge of the vanity hard. “Of course—I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before,” she murmured. It was no surprise, indeed. The Commissioner would need to communicate with the Queen the same as Eliza, but it was the device’s other uses that would serve Eliza best.
Finding the Commissioner’s secrets had seemed a tedious process only moments ago. She’d assumed, as had the Queen, it would be a matter of assimilating and ingratiating herself to her host. But that method would take months, if not longer. Eliza did not care to spend that kind of time on a man who did not deserve it, and maybe she wouldn’t have to.
“Didn’t think of what before?” Anna asked, following Eliza’s progress with her eyes as Eliza paced back and forth.
Eliza ran her fingers through her hair, destabilizing the careful curls she’d spent hours fixing. “The holocom—the holocom’s the key.”
