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Pulling too hard on the button, it breaks loose, and I sigh. “I only wanted to smooth things over, to have something to do other than stare at the walls, but you must have better things waiting for you than talking to a spoiled princess.” I lower my gaze to the simple black button and add, “I apologize for wasting your time.”

Seconds pass, and Valdus doesn’t move. My cheeks heat up even more, and I can’t wait for him to leave.

“My name is Valdus.”

I look up, startled, unable to hide my confusion.

“What’s your name?” he adds.

“Neylan, but friends call me Nel,” I rush to answer before he can change his mind.

Valdus takes a seat in the armchair and rubs his metal finger over his lower lip. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say next.”

I clear my throat, searching for anything to keep the conversation going. To be fair, I didn’t think he would stay.

“Maybe there is something you want to know about the palace…” I start, but his gaze, lost on the city peeking through my window, douses my enthusiasm. He’s a rebel, but he must not be high enough on the ladder to care about the information that I’m not even sure I want to give. I flip the button between my fingers, grappling for anything to add. “Or maybe we can have a trade of honest answers.”

Valdus’s warm brown eyes turn to me and search my face for something I’m not sure he’ll find. I straighten my back as my mother has beaten into me and meet his gaze. I won’t back down. Even if he holds all the cards.

“Three questions each. I don’t have more time than that.”

“Fine,” I mutter. I wonder for a second why he wouldn’t have time when he just came back home, but I don’t dare to ask. From the look on his face, he might not answer. “Do you work at the factory?”

“Everybody does. Those who can work, at least,” Valdus says and settles deeper in the armchair. “Out here, you either work at the factory, become a soldier, or starve to death.”

I’ve figured as much already. Even living in the palace, I knew that the life of what little privilege I was born into was seldom experienced out in the sands. The Shadow City houses armories, warehouses full of automatons and war machines, and vaults with oil and coal. The palace itself needs as many servants as any other factory needs workers to run as smoothly as my father desires.

“My turn then?” Valdus asks and doesn’t wait to continue. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Ofara, the second wife of Our Sun and Light.”

“Hmm, the Dealmaker.”

“You know about that?” I ask, surprised that my mother’s habit of striking deals of marriage between the daughters of the emperor and mighty men of the empire is not news in a small town lost in the desert.

“I know a great many things.” I open my mouth, but Valdus lifts his finger. “You’ve just asked one. How is it that the emperor allowed you to train with swords?”

I curse myself for wasting a question and pick another button to fiddle with while I think of the best way to answer. “I’m not sure my father knew I had swords. He might not even be aware they are missing from his armory.”

A hint of surprise makes his warm-brown eyes grow wider, if only for a second. With a shake of his head, he swallows down the question he must be itching to ask. He won’t accuse the daughter of the House of Our Sun and Light of thievery. Nor deception. “Your turn,” he only says.

I tuck a rebellious strand of hair behind my ear and search my mind for a question that might help me gain a better understanding of my current situation. I didn’t lie when I said I was sorry I slipped out of the house into the town by myself, but that doesn’t mean I gave up on the idea of running away.

“What does the factory do?” I finally ask.

Valdus leans forward, rubbing his metal thumb into the palm of the other hand. “We work with metal. We cut it into pieces and assemble small gears.”

Valdus’s answer is as vague as it could possibly be, but that’s all I need to know. The map of the empire springs up in my mind with The Shadow City in the middle and the rest of the cities sprawling around it like legs of an enormous creature. With only a few exceptions, every railroad line has four stops. A mining town at the edge, the processing factory as the next stop, the plant that molds and stamps metal in any shape like the town I find myself in, and finally the assembly factory, like Bonar’s town.

“The Broken Sands, then.”

Valdus’s eyes crinkle with something close to amusement as he looks at me. “You seem to be informed of the empire’s affairs.”

“That’s not a question,” I say, not eager to reveal anything more about myself without learning something in return.

“Well, then. How is your ankle?”

“You can ask anything of this knowledgeable princess,” I say, pointing a finger at my chest. “And you decide to inquire about my well-being?”