Unraveled Read Free

person most likely to ascend to the position, and the
     person most likely to fly into a murderous fit of rage and lose her chance. I’d seen
     her instability more than once while she lorded over my training at the Coventry.
     I relied on it during my escape, when I couldn’t reach Erik by myself. I let her push
     him into the tear I had created. All I had to do was mention kissing him.
    “Never,” he said with a groan. “She’s too … eager.”
    “She’s too cunning,” I correct him.
    “Either way, Maela would be a poor candidate for the position.” Cormac laughs as though
     we’re playing a new game.
    I’d suspected from my interactions with her at the Coventry that something had gone
     wrong between Cormac and Maela. Now I’m certain I was right. I’d been on the bad end
     of Maela’s temper while I was under her watch. She had often abused her position training
     the incoming Eligibles. I can’t imagine the destruction she’d have caused as Cormac’s
     wife.
    But if it wasn’t Maela, that left a frightening possibility.
    “Not my … sister?” I ask, dreading his answer.
    “Much too young,” Cormac says. It should be reassuring that he sees her this way,
     but I also know this means Amie is still the same giddy girl who mooned over a bakery
     cake on my retrieval night. And Cormac has been molding her—altering her—for over
     a year to trust him and the Guild.
    “I had an arrangement with Pryana,” Cormac admits, drawing a long breath that says, I’m guilty . “My men—”
    “Your Tailors.”
    “My Tailors,” he says, barely missing a beat, “thought they could splice her with
     Loricel’s genetic material. But she’s never shown the natural talent Loricel—or you—had.”
    “Pity,” I say carefully. I don’t want him to see I’m upset over what he did to Loricel,
     the Creweler who guided me during my short time at the Coventry. Cormac collects information
     the way some men collect old Bulletin s. But with him it isn’t a harmless habit. Cormac knows which stories—which inconsequential
     facts should be held on to—so he can use them against you later.
    Cormac’s mind stays on Pryana, though. “I’ve placed her back within the Western Coventry
     and canceled the wedding.”
    “I hope you hadn’t sent the invitations,” I say.
    “Would it matter?” he asks with a snort.
    Of course not. The Tailors under his command could remove the memory of the invitation,
     alter the information in the minds of the people fortunate—or rather, unfortunate—enough
     to have received one. Every action Cormac takes has a built-in fail-safe. He never
     has to worry about making a policy mistake or averting a disaster because he can wipe
     the memory of it away.
    Tailors were the nightmares you couldn’t remember the moment your eyes opened.
    “Well, you are too old for me,” I say, searching for something to talk about that
     doesn’t revolve around that ring. In the end, I give up. “Why? Tell me why I should
     accept your … offer?”
    “There’s the little matter of your sister. Need I remind you she’s currently in my
     custody?”
    I shake my head. I’m well aware that he has Amie.
    “Good. I knew she would come in handy, but there’s more,” he says. He straightens
     in his chair, ready to talk business. “The reason you should agree to it is fairly
     simple. There’s trouble in Arras. If we’re going to work together to ensure both worlds
     survive, we need to give the people something else to think about, obsess over—and
     what’s better than a celebrity wedding?” He flashes me a blinding smile that’s meant
     to be charming. Too bad it’s never worked on me. But I know he’s absolutely right.
     The wedding of Cormac would be the talk of every metro in Arras. It would occupy the Bulletin s and the Stream for months, even years, or however long it might take to divert people’s
     attention from what’s really going on.
    “You want to distract