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“Why should I care about that?” Eleanor says. “Why does your little mission have anything to do with us?”

“Because you want to know what’s floating around about you, don’t you? You want to know what Bob told me that made me come to you?Because if it’s something that someone like me can find out, then there are plenty of scarier, more dangerous people who can find out, too.” Sonya tilts her head. “And maybe they’ll do worse than I can.”

“You think I’ll decide to help you because I want to know a rumor?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sonya says. “Or maybe you’ll decide to help me because there’s a girl out there who was taken from her parents by the same government you fought to dismantle, and she needs help. Or maybe you’ll help me because you’re curious, or because you think Myth will want to play with a little doll of the Delegation for a couple hours.”

She leans forward, the edge of the table digging into her stomach.

“Or maybe,” she says, “you’re interested in what Emily Knox told me when I met with her.”

The featureless face turns toward her sharply at Knox’s name.

“I don’t really care why you’re going to help me... but you are,” Sonya says. “Aren’t you?”

For a while, Eleanor is still.

“I will ask Myth if he’ll meet with you,” she says. “And we will get in touch with you if he agrees.”

“Thank you,” Sonya says. She stands. “Have a nice day.”

When she walks away from the table, her hands are shaking.

Ten

This time, Alexander is waiting at her door. His tall, ungainly form leaning against the wall next to it. He wears the same wool coat, the same black shoes that haven’t been polished in too long. As she approaches, he pushes his hands through his unkempt black hair and looks at her.

“May I come in?” he says. His breath is sharp with alcohol.

“Not if you’re here to scold me,” she says. “Have you been drinking?”

“It was trivia night,” he says. “I do actually have a life beyond paper-pushing, you know. Friends. Hobbies. The whole rigmarole.”

She pushes the door open with her shoulder, then takes off her coat and hangs it on the hook screwed to the wall just inside the living room. She doesn’t understand why he’s staring at her until she remembers Knox’s dress, Knox’s shoes. In the dressing room they were elegant, but in the Aperture, they’re a costume.

“She insisted,” she says, cheeks warming.

“I believe you,” he replies. “So I went back over the last few days’ footage—I haven’t been watching you, I only scroll through the highlights.”

“Oh,” Sonya says. “Why?”

“I’m giving you space,” he says. “But I still need to do my job.”

“And?”

“And yesterday you were wearing a device that interfered with the Insight’s audio receptors,” he says. “Courtesy of Emily Knox.”

Sonya walks into the kitchen and takes a glass out of the cupboard. She turns on the faucet and lets the water run for a few seconds before filling it. Sometimes the pipes spit rust-colored water at first.

“Yes,” she says. “I was.”

He braces himself on the edge of the counter, leaning into his hands so his shoulders bunch up by his ears. Again she gets the feeling that he’s too close, even though there’s a counter between them.

“You know, this isn’t your job. This is an offer generously extended to you by the Triumvirate,” he says. “It can be revoked just as easily as it was given.”

She puts the glass down on the counter. Some of the water splashes over the edge. “Are you threatening me?”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “God, you really do think the worst of me, don’t you?”