Ayla herself, this necklace used to have a twin; it was one half of a matching set. The second necklace had been lost years and years ago, before Ayla and her brother were even born. Ayla wouldn’t let this one share the same fate.
She slipped it back beneath her shirt.
The wind was freezing against her cheeks. Her mouth tasted like salt. The sea was lit up with moonlight, sparkling. A hundred feet below, the waves burst into white foam. She didn’t have long until curfew, until she’d have to retreat back into the servants’ quarters for the night, but for now she could stand here on the cliff’s edge and hold the knife in her pocket. A promise of what was to come. Revenge. Killing Hesod’s daughter. Even if it took years.
There was a noise to her left. The sound of footsteps on wet rock.
Ayla turned.
Someone else was standing on the bluffs maybe thirty paces away, looking out over the ocean. Had they seen her? Her heart quickened, then settled. No. They were facing away from Ayla. They hadn’t yet noticed she was here. Another servant?
Then, a voice: “—and is that the only reason you’ve agreed to this marriage?”
“You already knew that,” said a second voice, and Ayla shrank farther behind a seaflower bush. The first voice Ayla didn’t recognize. The second was undeniable. It was the sovereign himself, Hesod. She had only ever seen him from a distance, as he was always in the palace and surrounded by guards, but she’d heard his voice. He’d given a speech, once, after a stableboy had tried to attack one of the guards. The stableboy was killed on the spot, of course. Throat pierced with the same awl he’d been using as a weapon. And the next day, all the servants were gathered in the main courtyard and forced to their knees, bent over, foreheads pressed to the packed dirt. And Hesod had stood above them and said: I would rather kill you all than replace a single guard. I suggest you do not let it come to that.
But there was nobody protecting him right now.
“Your marriage to Crier would be of enormous benefit to Rabu,” Hesod continued, and Ayla’s ears pricked.
“I see you’ve noticed my growing popularity,” the first voice drawled.
“I have—” And Hesod’s voice dropped low enough that even an Automa wouldn’t have been able to pick out the words over the waves and the sea wind. Ayla strained to hear more, but still could catch only pieces.
“—it is always political, Scyre Kinok,” Hesod was saying.
Kinok. The war hero. Lady Crier’s betrothed.
He’d quelled human rebellions and was responsible for the deaths of many. Still, when dealing with monsters, Ayla almost preferred that kind of frontal attack over Hesod’s insidious tyranny, the way he professed his appreciation for humankind with one breath and ordered massacres with the next. The way he made laws pretending they were for the “good” of humans. Like the one that banned any use of large storage spaces: places where grains or dry goods could be kept for the drought and cold seasons were explicitly banned under the guise of caring for human welfare. Hesod—and the Red Council—said it was because humans might hoard. They might let their food rot and spread disease. But the rebellion knew better. Rowan had told Ayla and Benjy that the Automae were worried that any large storage spaces could be used to meet in secret or hide weapons. And in their fear, they sentenced many families to almost starve to death during the winter seasons.
“It is no secret,” Kinok said, “that the union of our two political visions would only benefit Rabu. With Varn growing stronger, with Queen Junn gaining more support, whether she bought it or not . . . her people are still divided, but they will fight for her.”
“Rumors,” said Hesod dismissively. “Junn is delusional. Her people are weak, and her system, if it can even be called that, lacks structure. Varn will fall easily, if it comes to that.”
“Of course, Sovereign.”
The wind changed again and their voices fell away. Ayla found herself leaning forward, nearly sticking her nose into the seaflowers, straining her ears to catch anything—
“Politics aside, I have heard there may be developments in your experiments. Would you care to elaborate on the results?”
Kinok was quiet for a moment before she heard him respond, “All of it is still very nascent, Sovereign.”
“Well, I’m sure that given your knowledge, given your history, you will triumph in