by Meg LaTorre
When the music changed keys and everyone started swapping partners, Rora practically shoved Gwen into Bastian’s arms. As Gwen stumbled forward, her leg screamed in protest. She reached a hand out to catch herself, which he caught automatically. Despite the warmth of his hands, they felt cold. His eyes connected with hers, and no recognition sparked in them. It was as though he stared at a complete stranger.
Celeste narrowed her eyes, but she, too, found another partner, as did Rora.
Clearing her throat, Gwen straightened. Without a word, Bastian took her right hand in his and placed his other on her lower back as they moved throughout the song. She did her best to follow Bastian and the other dancers, but she was far slower thanks to the crutch under her left arm. As she struggled to keep pace, all she could think about was the softness of his skin and how he’d kissed her on the deck of Obedient.
Get your head in the game. Say something to him.
When she cleared her throat, rather than a delicate, ladylike interruption, she sounded like she was choking on her supper.
“How’s your evening going?” As soon as she spoke the words, she nearly winced.
What the hell was that?
“Fine, thank you,” Bastian replied.
When he didn’t say anything further, she tried again. “You look nice. Is this a new suit?”
“Yes, it is.”
Oh, for the love of—
“Did Celeste pick it out for you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her recently.”
“Shouldn’t we all spend more time with our Mistress?”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Her crutch bumped into Bastian’s shoe, and she started to apologize, but his face held no recognition of anything having happened. Did he not feel pain? “It’s about what you told me on Obedient before the third competition.”
His eyes scanned the dancers beyond them. “I don’t recall us speaking.”
She started. Could he be lying? But she pressed on.
“You’d told me about your family and what they made you do…”
“Cirque du Borge is my family,” he said. “The people I knew before don’t matter any longer. Performers don’t need their memories to heed their calling. All that matters is that our Mistress is pleased.”
The music changed, and the performers once again changed partners.
“Good evening, Ms. Grimm.” Bastian took the hand of a woman in a bright blue gown. But Gwen couldn’t see her face through her tears.
Turning, she pushed through the dancers and off the dance floor. Leaning over, she stood beside one of the food tables, pretending to reach for one of the delicacies. Meanwhile, angry tears streamed down her cheeks.
Rora appeared a few moments later.
“Well?”
Gwen turned, ready to snap at her. She wanted to snap at anyone, but Rora especially. All she could feel was the anger and despair threading through her veins. “He doesn’t remember anything. It’s like he’s a completely different person. Sound familiar?”
Rora froze. “Are you crying?”
“What the hell does it look like?” Pushing past her, Gwen limped toward the massive windows at the back of the room and walked out the door. She shuffled down the terrace, seating herself on a stone bench. Not far off, she could hear the laughter and chatting of lovers in the gardens.
For the first time in years, she allowed herself to feel defeated. Gwendolyn Grimm, the Union’s best tinkerer, had found a problem she couldn’t fix. And she felt utterly useless.
Tears tumbled down her face, and her whole body shook with sobs. She placed her head in her hands.
Skirts rustled nearby, but she didn’t bother to look up. A moment later, a hand was on her back.
“You really do love him.” It was Rora’s voice, which held a hint of surprised amazement.
Gwen didn’t bother to reply.
Slowly, Rora lowered herself onto the bench beside Gwen. “I thought your relationship with him was just a rebound. You getting back at me. But now I can see that what you have is real.”
They listened to whistling crickets and the croaking of frogs for a time—the sounds broken only by the rhythmic thumping of lovemaking somewhere in the boxwood hedges.
“You can’t give up now,” Rora said at last. “He needs you now more than ever.”
Gwen wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Nothing I do matters. I tried to help the performers, but all I’ve done is butcher half of them to death.”
“And the rest are alive,” Rora added. “You discovered something isn’t right with the chips.”
Gwen sniffed. “Some good that did. We still can’t remember our pasts. People are dying, and I’ve lost the person I wanted to save the most.”
“Without you, I’d be in a coma or dead, as would Marzanna.” Rora’s jaw set with determination. “If we can be saved, so can Bastian.”
“I can’t reach him,” Gwen said. “I tried, but it’s like he’s not there.”
“The Mistress must have done something to him,” Rora said. “Why else would he be following her around? He hates the woman, for goodness’ sake. Not to mention, if they can take our memories, who’s to say they can’t do other things to us?” Rora took her shoulders, forcing Gwen to meet her eye. “It’s time to buckle up, buttercup. If you want to save your man, you’re going to have to fight.”
Slowly, Gwen nodded.
Rora was right. She couldn’t give up now. She couldn’t let the Mistress win.
Bastian needed her. It was time to fight back.
Chapter 32
Rora stood and extended her cyborg hand toward Gwen. The very same hand that Gwen had made for her; the hand that started this mess in the first place.
Against all odds and common sense, she took it.
Rora guided Gwen back into the ballroom. “Let’s see what we can learn about your man tonight.”
Looking around, Gwen couldn’t see Bastian or Celeste anywhere.
They hurried over to where Marzanna and Akio had seated themselves at a table with several other cyborgs.
“Have you seen Bastian?” Gwen asked.
Brows furrowed, Marzanna pointed toward the main door. “He just left with Celeste.”
With a murmured thanks, Gwen and Rora hurried out of the ballroom. To the right, she saw a flash of red disappearing around a corner.
“That way!” Gwen grabbed Rora’s arm, speed-hobbling down the halls.
“Where are they going?” Rora asked as they turned down hall after hall in the opposite direction of the bedrooms in the east wing.
“They must be heading to the courtyard,” Gwen said.
Turning down several more hallways, they eventually entered the main foyer. Celeste and Bastian exited the entrance to the palace, which several guards held open. Rora grabbed Gwen’s arm, and they crouched behind a column. Leaning forward, they peered around it, trying to listen.
“Don’t stay out after dark,” one of the guards said. “Even the palace grounds aren’t safe for your kind at night.”
Celeste nodded, smiling. “We won’t be long. We want to check on our beasts, make sure they’re settling in.”
They disappeared beyond the main palace door, which was bolted behind them.
Gwen frowned. “They’re going to the stables? Now?”
Shrugging, Rora pulled her toward the door. “Come on!”
They strode forward, hands clasped. Rora leaned into Gwen, a bright, random smile on her face as though Gwen had just said something hilarious.
“Flirt with me.”
Gwen blinked, not understanding, but then she looked at the guards and realization dawned.
Slinging her free arm over Rora’s shoulders, she leaned close and nibbled Rora’s earlobe before whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Laughing, Rora swatted at her playfully, a sway to her step. Gwen followed her lead.
When they came up to the guards, one said,
“What’s your business?”
“I want to show my darling the town,” Gwen said. “We’ve never been to Allegiant before.”
Although she couldn’t see the man’s face beneath his helmet, she could have sworn she saw him lifting an eyebrow.
He doesn’t believe us.
Without pausing to think about the stupidity of her actions, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Rora’s. Just as she had all those weeks ago, Rora yielded easily to Gwen. The acrobat smelled of her usual rose and peach blossom perfume, which plumed into Gwen’s nose as Rora’s breasts press against her abdomen.
Parting Rora’s lips, she slipped her tongue into the shorter woman’s mouth, kissing her for a moment longer before letting go. When she did, Rora breathed heavily, her lips reddened and eyes glazed.
The soldier harrumphed. “I’ll tell you the same as I’ve told every cyborg who’s approached this door. Be back before dark. Otherwise, things will end badly for your kind.”
Gwen winked at him with her human eye. “You’re a doll.”
Unbolting the door, he opened it, and they strode out.
On the other side of the door, several guards stood with long guns tipped with spearpoints. Gwen paused to smile at them before staggering down the street with Rora, the two of them laughing at nothing at all.
When they were out of sight of the main door, Gwen removed her arm from Rora’s neck. “Where are the stables?”
Rora ran a finger over her lips absently. Clearing her throat, she lowered her hand and pointed down an immaculate cobblestone street. “I think I saw it this way when we were walking in.”
A few minutes later, they were met with the smell of manure.
As they turned down the end of a street, she spotted the entrance to the stables, where a stable boy stood guard.
“That’s it?” Gwen gestured to the lack of guards. “Are they not afraid of thieves?”
Rora shrugged. “I guess the emperor is confident within his own walls. Maybe the punishment for crimes here is much steeper than it is on other planets.”
The stables consisted of a massive stone building two stories tall, nestled between stone buildings on either side and separated by narrow alleys. From where they stood in the shadows across the street, Gwen thought she could see windows on the side of the stables. She pointed at them.
“Think you can get up there?”
Pulling up her skirt, Rora revealed a rope and small grappling hook.
“How the hell did you hide that in there?” Gwen asked. “I would have stabbed myself in the crotch.”
“Eloquent, as always, Gwen.” She gestured to the stable boy. “Distract him, would you?”
Gwen scratched her head. How the hell was she supposed to do that? But it was now or never.
Striding from the shadows, she ambled toward the stable’s front entrance. The boy looked up from where he sat on a wooden stool behind a counter. When he saw Gwen’s cyborg eye, his face went from polite attention to obvious disgust.
Nostrils flaring, he said, “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” Moving slowly on her crutch, she stopped and leaned on the counter. She ran her tongue over her teeth, blinking slowly. “Can you tell me where the nearest tavern is? It seems I’ve lost my way.”
From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement as Rora crossed the street and disappeared down the alley beside the stable.
“There are no taverns in the palace proper,” the boy said. “You’ll have to return to the main city.” In a softer voice, he added, “Or whatever dark hell you came from.”
There was a sudden clank of what must be the grappling hook against the stone before a louder clattering on the cobblestones.
The boy stood. “What was—”
“When I was your age, I thought cyborgs were abominations, too,” Gwen lied, slurring her speech. The boy hesitated, uncertain whether to leave this deranged cyborg alone—to possibly enter the stables and eat the animals—or check on the sound. “Unnatural, with the technology. No one should have that kind of power.” She tapped her cyborg eye. “That was, until I got this. I’d always been good at figuring out what a person really wants when I was human. But it wasn’t until they installed this eye that I went from discerning men’s desires to seeing into their minds.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
Stars, he couldn’t be older than fourteen.
Gwen shrugged. “I never thought such a thing was possible. Now that I have this ability, I realize it isn’t a gift but a curse. I’d always thought people had pure intentions overall. Only the few vile ones locked up were the dark of heart. But do you know the nasty, vile thoughts men have? It isn’t the machine that makes cyborgs monsters. It’s us, our human nature. The machine only amplifies what’s already there.”
“Th-that’s not true,” the boy stammered, looking around. “The machine makes you evil.”
She allowed her eyes to flicker to the desk, where she spotted oils behind the counter and grease stains around the crotch of his pants.
Thank the stars I’m not a teenager anymore.
Cyborg eye whirring, she looked hard at the boy, pretending to read his thoughts. “Ah, I see. You’re one of them.”
“One of who?”
“You’re one of the folks driven by lust. Shouldn’t you be keeping guard? It seems you’ve been quite distracted by other activities this evening.”
His eyes widened in horror. “How could you know that?”
“I told you already.” She pointed at her eye. “Cyborg powers.”
She hadn’t heard the sound of the grappling hook in a few minutes, but she wasn’t sure if Rora had gotten into the upper-story window yet. Racking her brain, she tried to think of something else to keep the boy occupied.
“You saw someone not long ago.” She pretended to look deeply into him. “A tall fellow with olive skin and a woman with bright red hair.”
The boy’s eyes widened further, if that was possible. Slowly, he nodded, glancing over his shoulder. But there was only a massive wood wall, behind which horses whinnied. At the side of the wall was a doorway with a half-gate.
“They came around here a few minutes before you.” He paused, looking her up and down. “I thought you said you were looking for a tavern.”
There was a loud crashing outside.
Flinching, she glanced backward. The boy was on his feet at once, pausing long enough to give her a look that said, “Don’t touch anything!” before he disappeared around the corner of the building.
“Fuck.” Turning, she started to shuffle after him.
“Gwen!”
It was Rora. She was in the alley on the opposite side of the building the boy had run off to. Gwen hurried over and hid beside her. Even in the shadows, Rora seemed pale, her dark features having lost some of their usual warmth.
“What did you find?” Gwen demanded, surprised to find her hands gripping Rora’s shoulders.
“You should probably see this for yourself.” She gestured to the rope and grappling hook, which dangled from the window one story above them.
“I’m in no shape to climb. That’s why you’re here. Just tell me what you saw.”
Rora shook her head. “You really should see this. Now.”
There was an edge of urgency to Rora’s voice that froze the words she’d been about to speak.
“There’s a stack of crates around back,” Rora said. “You should be able to climb up to see through another window. Come on.”
Nodding, she followed Rora behind the building. Hiking up her dress and tucking her skirts into the belt at her waist, she dropped her crutch on the ground before climbing up the crate. With Rora’s help, she eventually made it.
She peered down through the glassless window, which overlooked dozens of stalls two stories below. Nearly fifty watchmen were stationed throughout the stable. One stood at each animal stall, as well as two at every entrance and exit, and more walked the length of the building.
The cyborg animals, including the red dragon, were within their cages. At the stall in the back corner was no animal at all, but a man.
Bastian kneeled at the center of the stall, utterly motionless. A table had been set up next to a wall beside him where Celeste had an open tool kit and several portable mainframes with screens where green text flowed upward. She held something small in her hand that Gwen couldn’t see. Looking back at Bastian, she realized what she’d missed before.
His port was open on the back of his neck.
She turned to Rora, eyes wide. Recognition filled both of their eyes.
Celeste was tinkering with his chip. Had that been why Bastian hadn’t seemed to remember Gwen or their conversations? Could Celeste have changed his memories?
Or deleted them?
Standing, Celeste went over to Bastian, running a nail along the side of his cheek. “I appreciate your assistance, my pet.” She walked behind him, placing a chip into his head. “Can’t be too careful with everything so close to unfolding. I want to be certain you understand your orders for tomorrow, and what to do if things don’t go according to the plan.”
She held something between her fingers, which she slipped into a hidden pocket of her scarlet gown.
“I doubt you’ll ever need this chip again. Once you kill the emperor tomorrow, you’ll likely be tried and executed. There will be no point in returning your memories or personality to you. As charming as you once were, I don’t need the old Bastian Kabir. I need my little soldier.”
As she spoke, Bastian didn’t move. He simply stared ahead at the wall.
“I didn’t bother to seek out most of my performers. I didn’t care what their background was. But Carlisle? I sent him to find you. I needed someone with combat experience who was forgettable. And you, my darling, are most certainly forgettable.”
She waved her hand dismissively in the air as though Bastian had spoken.
“Sure, Abrecan knows his way around a bow, but a gun is far more subtle and far harder to detect. Besides, the man is as wide as a mountain. The minute he walks into the room, everyone will be watching him, wondering just what violence he’s capable of. No one will be looking at the thin, dark ringleader.