disinterest, but Crier couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t telling the truth about Yora’s heart, at least not entirely.
There was a small table in the corner holding an array of tools. Kinok retrieved a thin knife and, as Crier watched, he pricked his finger and let the blood drip into one of the vials. And Crier realized what the dark purplish liquid was. Kinok was experimenting with his own blood.
She turned away, a little repulsed. Her eyes fell on one of the diagrams on the wall. It looked sort of like a human family tree, except it was arranged not from top to bottom but outward from the center, like the spokes of a wheel. The name in the center of the tree was Thomas Wren.
“Your investigation,” Crier murmured. “Does this map show the people who worked with Wren?”
“Every genius draws from others,” said Kinok almost wryly. “You can learn a lot by tracing the connections from one mind to another.”
She didn’t answer. She actually felt a little relieved after seeing Kinok’s work laid out like this. She traced one of the lines on the map; it was the only one in red.
“What’s that one?” Crier asked.
Kinok glanced over. “A rumor, not fully substantiated, but some say that Thomas Wren was in love with another scientist and that she bore him a child.”
It comforted Crier somehow. Nothing he was doing seemed very dangerous—maybe she’d been overreacting with her suspicion of him. Maybe he really did want to work with her, to help her, Flaw and all.
“I’m glad you find my work intriguing,” Kinok said a few minutes later, after carefully closing the hidden door, as they finally headed to the great hall for dinner with Hesod and Junn.
“I do,” Crier said honestly. “I like anything that has to do with the history of our Kind. And . . . Tourmaline is certainly a tempting idea. Especially if we really are in danger of running out of heartstone. Have you spoken to my father about this? Or anyone else on the council?”
“So many questions, Lady Crier,” he said, smiling indulgently. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you your answers. And I have more to show you—so much more. As long as you can prove your loyalty to me.”
What?
Crier didn’t have a chance to ask him what that meant. They had reached the great hall, and Queen Junn awaited.
Dinner was tense.
In a display of Hesod’s beliefs, the table in the great hall was piled with human delicacies in addition to the bird’s-skull teapot of liquid heartstone: stewed lamb, salted fish, rich brown bread with butter and honey, platters of sugared fruits from the orchards. No one ate except the queen.
Hesod sat beside Queen Junn as she feasted, partaking in cordial conversation. But Crier could see something cold and calculating in her father’s eyes. He looked regal tonight, in the deep-red robes he usually reserved for council meetings or other formal affairs. A gold brooch glinted at his throat, engraved with the crest of the sovereign: a clenched fist, a crown, a glittering ruby. He was smiling. Arranging his features into something friendly—the welcoming, good-humored ruler. But his eyes told a different story.
Crier took a sip of her liquid heartstone. It was all she could keep down. She could hear the noise of Ayla’s stomach eating itself whole. Ayla was kneeling at Crier’s feet, like usual, even though Queen Junn’s human adviser was seated at the table with everyone else. It made Crier’s skin feel itchy and too small.
Ayla had been acting distant all day. During the tour of the palace, she had trailed behind Crier like a silent specter, looking ahead with sightless eyes. At one point, she’d nearly tripped over the train of Crier’s gown. Would have, if Crier hadn’t yanked it out of her path just in time.
The only thing that seemed to catch Ayla’s attention was the human adviser. Whenever he so much as breathed audibly, Ayla’s eyes flicked over to him, sharp and awake. It had been like that all day. What was so fascinating about him? Crier frowned at the uneaten scraps of meat on her plate. Was it because he was human? She glanced at him over the rim of her teacup. He was—not bad-looking, without the white mask. He actually looked a little similar to Ayla, as if they had come from the same village. Like Ayla, the adviser had thick, dark hair. He had a similar chin, a similar bump on the bridge of his