It’s not really a question.
Aspect glances at me. “Aspect stay—with Kori?”
The logical thing would be to ensure a witness, even a mechanical one, for whatever’s about to happen. But something in the careful pressure of Adria’s fingers over my armored wrist sends sparks through my arteries, turning my blood to lightning. I want to see whatever she’s deigned to show me, and I don’t think I want anyone else to share that moment.
“Go back to my chambers,” I tell them. “Power down outside the door. Recharge as much as you can.”
“Be safe,” Aspect says, among the most human mannerisms they’ve learned as of late.
But I’ve already invaded the planet’s forbidden side, plunged headlong into its rebel queen’s twisted psyche. I’ve long abandonedsafe.I want the thrill of forbidden knowledge.
I want to see what memories pulse in this strange, monstrous girl’s mind, beyond any other dayfolk’s reach.
Aspect retreats the way we came. Silly, Sillier, and a reluctant Grumpy follow them, apparently eager to continue making new friends. Four canine paws stammer happily down the hall and out of earshot.
Adria’s hand hasn’t left my arm. Her other hand presses into the small of my back, urging me forward without threatening to break my armor. “Come,” she says.
Drunk on possibility, I follow.
Once upon a time,
the imprisoned princess took hold of her bonds
and drew them tight enough to bleed.
CHAPTER
16
ADRIA
“So where are you taking me?”
There should be fear in Kori’s voice, but I can practically imagine the raised eyebrows, hopelessly curious, behind her filtration mask.
“The archives,” I say without turning around. “My people don’t artificially store, transfer, and trade memories as yours do. Instead, we keep records like our Earthside predecessors. Written records, digitized and alphabetized.”
Kori snort-laughs with derision. “Youkeepjournals?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“I was always taught that the nightfolk were further from the Earthside ways than any of us. Twisted into something new, something other. Not a trace of original humanity left.” Another little laugh escapes Kori. “And here you are, overthrower of the old regime, leader of all who live in the shadows, taking little notes on goings-on instead of utilizing the Morpheus tech to directly pull and archive experiences.”
“Your people were afraid to forget what once was. Mine burned away the chaff to make room for something better.” I tap my forehead with one blunt claw, where I presume the dayfolk insert their mechanized implants. “Morpheus tech was hopeless resistance to the Diakópsei’s power.”
“Its infection, you mean.”
“That’s what your people say. I prefermetamorphosis.”
“Like a caterpillar,” Kori says wistfully.
At that, I’m the one who turns to Kori, eyebrow raised. “A what?”
“I forget the Shadowlands doesn’t have as many Earthside memories archived. It was … like a small worm, sometimes fuzzy. It would wiggle down a branch and weave a basket for itself and crawl in, and then it would change. And it would come out, and it would have wings, all kinds of colors, thin as stained glass. Beautiful.”
I shake my head. “Why cling to memories of the Old World, when you’ve never embraced the potential of the new one?”
Kori’s answer is nearly a snarl. “Some of us like being human.”
