If anyone were going to kill Kinok, the Mad Queen seemed like a good bet. And maybe Ayla could even do some spying of her own, seeking out any information that could help the human Resistance. For years, her people had been attempting to rise up against the Automae. For years, the attempts had ended only in death.

Rowan’s face flashed through Ayla’s mind one more time before she raised her chin, meeting Junn’s eyes. “You can rely on me as well, your majesty.”

“Lovely,” said Junn. “Now, as a token of my appreciation, I have a gift for you.”

She knew all along I’d say yes, Ayla thought, trying not to scowl. The door to the aviary opened, the guards stepping aside to let a servant through. A pageboy, though taller than most, in the customary green. Head bent in deference, he crossed the stepping-stones and knelt before the platform, offering the queen a small silver box.

“Well?” said the queen, when Ayla didn’t move. “It’s for you.”

Ayla took the box, praying it wasn’t full of explosive powder or a poisonous mist or some sort of Made contraption that would stab her in the face—despite the queen’s apparent interest in keeping her alive, she wasn’t about to trust a royal leech. Trying not to cringe too obviously, she opened the lid.

It wasn’t a weapon. It was a bracelet.

Ayla frowned. She tilted the box from side to side, letting the sunlight catch all angles of the bracelet. It was a delicate gold chain with a small blue jewel dangling from it, sparkling in the sun. It was pretty, sure, but—was Ayla supposed to wear it? Oh, maybe she could sell it. Discreetly, of course, so as not to offend, but the jewel alone must be worth at least a hundred silver queenscoins. And if that chain was real gold . . .

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s very beautiful.”

For some reason, the queen laughed. “So it is,” she said. “But that’s hardly the point. Clever girl, you should really be more observant.”

“What—?” Ayla started, and then she followed the queen’s gaze down to—the pageboy. He was still kneeling in the dirt, motionless, head bent, but now that Ayla was looking, really looking, there was something terribly familiar about those long limbs, that dark curly hair. “Benjy?”

Benjy the pageboy looked up. “Hi, Ayla.”

Queen Junn left them alone in the aviary, sweeping out of the room with one last quicksilver smile. The guards stayed behind. Ayla climbed down to sit beside Benjy on the edge of the stone platform, ears ringing from the constant birdsong, and couldn’t help gaping at him. In a palace like this, she might have been less surprised to see a ghost.

“How,” she burst out, the second the door closed behind the queen. “How—what—?”

“I was captured by one of the festival guards,” Benjy explained. “Right after you—I actually saw them catch you, I wasn’t too far away, but half a second later I was being wrestled to the ground.” He huffed. “They were about to throw me in the dungeons overnight, but we were intercepted on the way there. One of the woman guards, the ones all in green. Said I wasn’t going to the dungeons, I was coming with them. So I get handed off, and the woman guard takes me to a guest room and tells me to get comfortable. I didn’t try to fight it—I figured you were around here somewhere, and I wouldn’t be any help if I got myself sent back to the dungeons. Then, this morning—”