Page 48 of Crewel (Crewel World 1)

‘No,’ I say, distracted by my eavesdropping.

Loricel raises one eyebrow, revealing a map of wrinkles etched along her forehead, and laughs. ‘Good. You’re exactly what they said.’

‘And that is?’ I ask, trying to keep the curiosity I feel out of my voice.

‘Smart and foolhardy,’ she says. ‘It’s a great combination for making conversation, but not the best for staying alive.’

‘That’s what they tell me.’

‘They’re keeping you off the loom?’

I nod, wondering how she knows that, but then I remember what Enora said about her. As Creweler, Loricel would know everything going on in Arras.

‘They’re trying to win you over,’ she informs me. ‘They’ll try appealing to your desires first. Clothes. Power. Parties.’

‘And if that doesn’t work?’ I ask.

‘Then they go after your heart.’

‘Aren’t they the same thing?’

She smiles and the lines on her face soften. ‘How old are you?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘Most sixteen-year-olds,’ Loricel says, ‘don’t know the difference between love and desire. That’s how they keep Spinsters weaving, and why they test at such an early age. You’re blinded by silk and wine.’

‘I don’t care much for wine,’ I say flatly.

‘What do you care for?’ she asks, but before I can answer she continues. ‘Because that’s what they’ll go after.’

My heart beats wildly, and I remember how easily Cormac pulled the surveillance of Amie walking to her new home from academy.

‘My sister,’ I whisper to myself.

‘They’ll find the others first. They’ll save her for last,’ Loricel says, shaking her head.

‘There are no others,’ I say.

‘Don’t be so sure of that. You might not know who they are, but the Guild does.’

‘Why do you care?’ I ask, not bothering to hide my curiosity. She’s nothing like I expected.

‘Because I once sat where you are, with a handsome, smarmy Guild official, and no one told me,’ she says, and the lines on her face reappear. With a curt nod, she strides away and disappears into the crowd.

‘That old witch scare you?’ Cormac asks, coming back over to me.

I shake my head. ‘No, she doesn’t approve of me escorting you.’

‘She wouldn’t,’ he says.

I’m forced to smile and pose for the cameras while the Cypress crowd mills about. There’s nothing natural about how they’re acting, and I wonder if they’ve been given Valpron for the evening to ensure our safety. When the ribbon flutters to the ground, I hand the scissors back to Cormac.

‘Your point’s been proved,’ I say, my words thick. Something about the audience’s lack of interest makes me feel the shame more acutely, as though I’m hurting for them because they can’t.

‘Oh, not yet,’ he whispers.

I don’t bother to ask him what this means. I’m tired of his cryptic warnings and little jokes, so I turn back to the crowd and stare out across the sea of ebony hair. The citizens of Cypress look so similar, just like Pryana. I must look like a freak to them with my pale skin and fiery hair.