There was a scuffling noise, a muffled curse, and then a man stumbled out from behind a tree. He was as young and beautiful as the woman, broad-shouldered and brown-skinned and tawny-haired. The moment he reached the woman, he tugged her into his body, arms curling around her. She snorted and half shoved at him and then melted, nudging her face into his chest. Ayla felt suddenly uncomfortable. She didn’t know these people, she had not chosen to come here, and yet she still felt like she was witnessing something she shouldn’t. Something too intimate, too personal.
“What did you need to tell me?” he asked. “What was so secret that we had to meet out here?” When she didn’t answer immediately, his tone grew worried. “Did something—?”
“No,” said the woman. “Well—yes, something happened, but it’s not bad. It’s not bad at all. I—I found the blueprints, Leo. I found my mother’s blueprints.”
She was grinning.
He was not.
“Si . . . ,” he said slowly. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t—go too far.”
“Too far?” she said, almost laughing. “Gods, Leo, don’t you see? There’s no such thing as too far. This is my calling. If the gods have given me anything, this is it. I want to continue where my mother left off. I have to.”
“Si—”
She pulled away from his embrace, all traces of laughter gone. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I was born to do this, Leo.”
“Born to defy the laws?”
“No, my love,” she said. “I was born to Make this. I was born to Make—her.”
Leo opened his mouth to protest, but just then Si whirled around, startled, as if she’d heard a sudden noise. And Ayla’s mouth dropped open. Because she could finally see the details of Si’s face . . . and those were her own eyes staring at her, identical in shape and color. Now that she was looking, really looking—Si’s nose was similar to her own as well, and she had the same round face, the same wide, full mouth—stars and skies, this Si even had the same dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, faint but visible.
Si. Siena. Siena Ayla, Ayla’s namesake. Her grandmother.
“Wait,” said Ayla, but not quick enough.
Crier tugged at the locket in their bloodied hands, and the forest clearing fell away as if it had never been there at all.
It was late now—the sounds from the tavern below had grown louder, and Ayla shuddered at the thought of all those travelers down the stairs, at the thought that anyone could have walked into this room and discovered them.
Ayla felt a million questions crowding her tongue, who were they what was that how how how how how, but her head was spinning and skies, the smell of the ale from the tavern brought back the all-too-recent memories of what she and Crier had done just minutes before, the recollection of heat against Ayla’s body and hands in her hair and Crier’s breath against her lips, and it was finally too much.
“Ayla,” Crier started. She was clutching the bloody locket in both hands, eyes fixed on Ayla’s face. Her voice was as low and soft as if she’d spoken to a spooked horse. Could she read the panic on Ayla’s face?
“Don’t,” Ayla said. “Just—don’t.”
Then she opened the door and ran.
But she didn’t make it far. “Have you seen the lady?” the innkeeper asked as Ayla stumbled down the stairs.
“Yes, she’s upstairs, ah, readying herself to leave.” Ayla fumbled for words that made sense. She’s cleaning up feathers. She’s holding my locket. She kissed me—and I kissed her back.
But the innkeeper just stood there, wringing her hands as she blocked Ayla’s way. “Unfortunately, I must ask that you remain here for the time being. I’m afraid it isn’t safe to leave.”
“Why?” Crier had appeared behind her—had followed Ayla down the stairs. Ayla stiffened, involuntarily, unable to meet Crier’s eyes, knowing if she did, all of her feelings would be written plainly for Crier to see.
The innkeeper faltered. “I’m—I’m not sure, ma’am, but there’s some sort of—riot on the roads outside the village. I—I don’t know how it began, but—”
“Humans or Automae?” Crier demanded.
“Pardon?”
“Who’s rioting,” she repeated. “Your Kind? Or mine?”
“Mine, my lady,” she said. “Seems a fight broke out in the marketplace between one of mine and one of—one of the sovereign’s guards, and somehow it escalated, and now the mob’s headed this way. There’s a guard post nearby. That’s the target. We’ve—they’ve tried to burn it down before.”