“How long was that mask supposed to work?” I ask Pryana as we scramble to our feet.

“Thirty minutes,” she says before tacking on, “theoretically.”

“You might have mentioned the ‘theoretically’ before.”

The screech of boots echoes on the linoleum in the hallway. Our only chance is that they don’t know which room has been breached. Hopefully the mask can at least get this detail right.

“This way!” Pryana calls, shoving me into the small observation room attached to the office. My foot catches on the metal examination table and I plunge forward, knocking over a nearby cart. Pryana catches me and forces me back on my feet, dragging me along behind her before I can even recover from my stumble. At the door we pause, peeking out to check the hallway, which is, miraculously, empty. I hesitate for a moment, but Pryana rushes toward the door that leads back into the main area of the compound and I’m left with no choice but to join her.

As we clear each set of swinging doors, the muffled shouts following us grow closer until Pryana grabs my arms and pulls me through the doors to the dining room. “In here.”

As soon as we enter she pushes me toward an empty seat and takes the one next to me. The dining hall has changed. The large mahogany table that occupied the space when I first came to the Coventry is no longer there. Instead there are rows of individual tables. At each one a Spinster eats alone. As in the lower studios, every girl is confined to her own space, which keeps them from speaking to one another.

A few heads turn toward us and I smile brightly. The other girls turn back to their meals without returning the gesture. Plain chicken and a chunk of bread are placed before me. In the past extravagant feasts were presented at mealtime: curries and pastries and soups. This is utilitarian, nourishment and nothing more.

Pryana catches my eye and motions to the food. Picking up my fork, I try to eat even as my pulse races. As I chew on the dry meat, I study the other Spinsters. Their dresses are as plain as the food. A few have pinned up their hair, but hardly any wear cosmetics. Pryana and I look like peacocks in comparison, which only unnerves me more.

It’s obvious we don’t belong here right now.

Turning my attention to my plate, I force myself to eat. To blend in.

The door opens behind us and a group enters noisily, causing every girl in the room to sit up and look around. I catch my breath and force myself to do the same.

A handful of guards linger in the doorway and my stomach drops as Maela pushes past them. She scans the room, her eyes landing on me.

“Ladies,” she calls out. “There has been a security breach. Please line up against the wall.”

No one breathes a word. There’s not even a sideways glance as each girl does exactly as she’s told, myself included. Pryana squeezes in next to me, but I don’t dare look at her as Maela paces down the line, studying us. She doesn’t stop in front of me, even though she must know who breached security. Maela is playing with us.

“One of you entered a secure area without permission,” she says. “Who was it?”

I want to step forward, but I hold myself back. Cormac isn’t here to save me from Maela’s wrath.

Maela wags a finger at the group. “Come now. If you don’t confess, I’ll be forced to deem everyone here guilty. I’d hate to send all of you to the clinics.”

Enough people have been wiped thanks to me. I shift my feet but Pryana holds me back.

“It was me.”

I lurch forward in surprise to look at the girl who spoke. There’s not a spot of color on her dark skin and her full cheeks make her look even younger than Amie. A few girls around her cast confused looks, but no one says anything.

“Gillian?” Maela raises an eyebrow as she plants her hands on her hips. “You broke into the clinics?”

Gillian nods, her gaze fixed on Maela. “I thought I could escape.”

I take a small step forward, knowing I can’t let this girl lie to save me. I don’t know why she’s doing it. But I do know the punishment for girls who try to escape. But as I move out of the line, Pryana’s nails dig into my arm and drag me back.

“Very well.” Maela nods to the guards. They don’t shackle the girl. Instead she falls into step behind them, as though she knows exactly what’s expected of her. A shiver races down my neck.

Maela waves off the rest of the group. “You may finish your meals.”

As she turns to leave, her eyes meet mine. The tilt of her head would be imperceptible to anyone else. No one here knows Maela like I do. The message is clear: it’s my move.

When the dinner shift ends, Pryana and I race back to my quarters and we’re barely through the door before I drag her into the bathroom.

“Nice trick,” she says as I turn on the faucets to drown out our conversation.

“I learned how to survive around here. It seems you have, too.”

She shrugs. “We do what we have to do.”

“Including letting an innocent girl confess to treason?” I fight to keep my voice lower than the running water, even as blood pounds in my ears.

“I didn’t see you step forward.”

“I tried to! I want answers!” I demand, losing control over the volume of my voice.

Pryana’s jaw clenches and her coffee-colored eyes flash to mine. She looks away and shakes her head. “Gillian sacrificed herself for the cause.”

“What cause?” I manage. “What cause does the Agenda have that requires suicide?”