The tears ended as quickly as they’d come, but Ayla was left feeling shaky and hollow, as if she’d cried for hours. She stared at her lap, miserable, familiar thoughts circling in her head like vultures: She had been there when Rowan died. Maybe she could’ve done something. Maybe she could’ve forced Crier to let her out of the carriage, to push her way through the crowd of humans and Automae, to kneel over Rowan’s body and kiss her forehead. Neither she nor Rowan believed in the old gods, but Ayla thought if she’d gotten the chance to send Rowan off properly, she would have murmured: From light you were born and to light you shall return. Go now into the stars. They’ve been waiting for you.

Ayla bit her lip hard, cutting off those thoughts at the quick. She didn’t want to start crying all over again.

“You are newbuilt,” said Lady Dear, as if just now realizing it. “Newborn. You’re a child.”

Ayla bristled. “I am not. I’m sixteen. Crying doesn’t make me a child.”

“Being young does. Why do you cry, child? What have you lost?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Ayla wanted to be angry, but she was too tired. She was just too tired. “What do you know about pain,” she said. “What could you possibly know about grief.”

“I have lost people,” said Lady Dear.

I have a heart like you, Ayla.

I feel things too.

“You don’t feel things like us,” Ayla said, not sure who she was speaking to: Lady Dear or the echo of Crier in her head. Either way, she sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

“We feel things differently,” Lady Dear agreed. Her voice was even. “But no less deeply, I would say.”

Ayla snorted. “You would say.”

“When I was newbuilt,” said Lady Dear, “and still lived in the Midwifery with the other newbuilt children, settling into my body, I became close with another girl. Her name was Delphi. Our beds were beside each other in the sleeping room.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ayla mumbled.

Lady Dear ignored her. “We spoke to each other the most,” she continued. “Those were strange weeks. Adjusting to your own newly formed mind. Adjusting to your body. Learning how to use it. Learning about our world. Delphi and I studied together. We were . . . friends, I think.” She paused. “It is difficult to use human words to describe inhuman relationships. But I think we were friends. I think I loved her. When it was decided that she would be terminated, I felt . . .”

“Wait,” said Ayla, straightening up. “Who decided? What was wrong with her?”

“Her pillars were unstable,” said Lady Dear. “It happens. The Makers are very skilled, but creating life is a tricky business. Alchemy is not a tool, you see. It is a force, and nobody, not even my Kind, can control it. Work with it, yes. Shape it, yes. Kindle it within a proper vessel, yes. But never control it. Mistakes happen. Mistakes are Made.” She held Ayla’s gaze. “Delphi’s pillars were unstable. It was decided that she would be terminated and remade.”